closet and took everything to the sitting room. There, with motel pen and on motel stationery, I wrote Tom a note, saying “Love, thanks, and goodbye.” It seemed a little flat, but at least was what I had to say. I slipped out and the clerk looked up in surprise, from the book he was reading, but checked me out: seventy-five dollars for the suite, twenty-two dollars for food, forty cents for some phone call I couldn’t remember making.
I picked up my suitcase, put on my coat, walked out to the car, and drove off into the dawn-of another life.
That night, I was back in the Garden of Roses, and five minutes after I got there, it was as though I’d never been away. Bianca at first acted insulted, but when I mentioned “money, Bianca-too much to lose just by turning my back,” she eased off ever so little, and then life went on as before. Liz said: “Baby, have I missed you-but never mind that. The main thing is, you’re back. And how’s our Tom …?”
“He’s fine,” I told her, betraying not a hint of emotion. “He helped me quite well in a matter we were both concerned in.”
“An overnight matter, as I understand it-some three nights running. I knew the boy had it in him! Now, spill, Joan, and don’t leave anything out.”
It was hard, as I would have loved to tell it all, but I answered, “Nothing to spill, I’m afraid, Liz. It was a legal matter, and it’s done.”
“A legal matter?”
“… And it’s done.”
An hour later, after business had got started, she was beside me saying sidelong: “Couple of big shots, Joan, here in the corner booth — they want to know if I have a pal, and would we like to see them later, after we close for the night. They already have rooms in a motel, and what they’re flashing at me is hundred-dollar bills. So if it’s true that you and Tom aren’t an item…” I told her, “Another time, Liz-tonight I have to catch up on my sleep.”
“O.K.,” she said, “I’ll take care of them both, I guess-it’s what legs are for, one of the things anyhow.”
“The main thing, maybe.”
“We could even say that, yes.” But then she blew out her lips and said, “Not an item …!”
The next night was nothing but one more night. The night after that Mr. White came in.
I saw him first and turned to the bar, where Jake had seen him too and was already fixing his drink. When it was ready to go he was at his table, the same one he’d always sat at. I served it without saying a word to him, and he asked: “Well? Aren’t you speaking to me?”
“Are you speaking to me is the question. It’s been quite a while, Mr. White. I wasn’t sure you placed me.”
“I place you.”
“I don’t take things for granted. It’s been weeks, after all. Was your business successful?”
“Very much so. It should be signed shortly.”
“And the other matter?”
“It’s a tricky situation, but my lawyer says it can be done.”
“… If you still wish to do it, of course. Let’s not pretend you didn’t go away for a month at least partly to try and forget me.”
“I don’t deny it, Joan,” he said simply. “I did.”
I opened my mouth to go on with it, trade some more blows back and forth, but looking at his expression I knew, the time had come to switch. I hadn’t jumped in his lap, I hadn’t yelped for joy on seeing him, had acted as though neglected, and not too pleased about it. But now I thought maybe it was best that I calm down, and remember the things that had been between us. So I said nothing until a minute at least had passed, and then, very quietly, asked, “So? Could you?” And then: “Did you?”
He let at another minute pass, and then, barely whispering it, said: “… No.”
“… Why don’t you ask what I did while you were gone?”
“O.K. What?”
“Tried to forget you was all.”
“So? Did you?”
I let him wait for a bit, then told him: “No.”
And then he said it, what I’d left Tom’s side to hear: “Joan, we have to get married.”
“Your way?”
“It’s not the way I’d want it-it’s the way the doctors dictate, the way it has to be.”
I stood there with my heart beating up, for I knew the way the doctors dictated was the only way for me- with him. I’ve asked myself, many times since that fateful night, if I was leading him on, pretending one state of mind while really being in another. The answer has to be yes. If I tell what I really felt, there on the floor that night, it was sure exultation, that I’d put it over at last, this gigantic plan I’d had, that would give my darling to me, on a lawn that he could play on, in a house we both could live in, as part of a world that we could be proud of. I’m trying to tell it as it was, not leaving anything out that matters, or putting anything in that isn’t true. So, I was two-faced and now I admit it. But, if you’re a woman, how about you, what would you have done? If you had exactly been in my shoes, with this opportunity offered you and that little boy to think of, I think you’d have done what I did. But not more than I did, not the things the newspapers later accused me of. And I swear on my life, on my blessed son’s life, I didn’t do them either.
“… When?” I asked.
“Not sooner than a week. My lawyer raised some questions that have to be answered-or at any rate, gone into. I want you to be protected-fully protected, by law.”
“On that, I trust you completely.”
“I appreciate that, Joan-but with the best intentions in the world, I could leave you wide open for trouble in case of a certain eventuality.”
“What eventuality, Mr. White?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Then, if you mean what I think you mean, I’d rather not, either. I hereby withdraw my question.”
“You sound like a lawyer, Joan.”
“I grew up around the sound. My father is one.”
“I’ve often wondered about him.”
“… I’d rather not discuss him.”
The bitterness I felt must have been in my voice, as he did something he very seldom did-reached out and patted me tenderly, on the side of my trunks. Suddenly he announced: “We’ll be married, Joan, but actually, as we’ll order our life, I’ll be a father to you. That way we can be together. I can see you all the time, and fill what must be a void in your life.”
I took his hand and held it, sealing the bargain.
During the night, it occurred to me that if he needed a lawyer, so did I, and once more I called Mr. Eckert in Marlboro, and around noon the next day I drove over to see him. He cut me off when I mentioned a retainer, saying the two-fifty I had already paid “still had some time to run, as I’ve done nothing to earn it-so, you’re all paid up, and what’s on your mind, Mrs. Medford?”
I told him.
When I was done he got up and started walking around. “I don’t like it,” he growled. And then: “I don’t like it even a little bit.”
I waited, and he went on: “You’ll be married, but then if he changes his mind you won’t be. I mean, suppose he seeks an annulment. No consummation, no marriage-you know about that, I assume? So, say you’re willing to consummate, which you might think knocks his suit in the head. But not if non-consummation was part of the contract- a court would hold, I’m afraid, that you can’t have it both ways. If you entered into a marriage that wasn’t a marriage, that’s the marriage the court has before it, not some marriage you’re willing to make after the fact. And if I were a judge, I’d have to hold that a marriage that excluded consummation was never a marriage at all.”
“… So? What do I do?”
“You mean, to get the money?”
“Do you have to put it that way?”
