I Cannot Get You Close Enough (6 page)

Adrian became my new best friend. He would drop by in the afternoons for tea or a drink. He disdained coffee and laughed at me for drinking it. He said it would stain my brain cells and make them weak. He said it would lead me to wear black. He wore the most beautiful colors of any man I had ever known. I remember a pair of khaki slacks and a khaki-and-white tweed sweater he would wear with a windbreaker lined with dark fir green. It sounds ordinary but there was a way the dark green lining lit up his blue eyes and the white in the tweed reflected the white in his hair. I don't think any of this was studied. I think colors made sense to him the way words do to me. We went sometimes in the afternoons to see revivals of movies he had done and he would complain about how the prints had faded and the colors bled from his costumes. Anyway, we liked each other and he fell into the habit of staying at my apartment when we had been out late to dinner or a play. We would walk in the mornings to museums or sit at a cafe on Madison Avenue and admire the costumes young people wear. Adrian would laugh with delight at a scarf tied around a young girl's forehead or the way a boy had laced his shoes with colored laces.

He pursued the matter of Sheila diligently but no one could remember the names of the Turks. He called David Marchman a dozen times, usually in the early morning from my phone.

“Try to find someone who remembers,” he kept asking. “It's bloody important to these people. Little girl about to be taken off to bloody Cyprus or Turkey. Well, thank you. Keep trying, David. Anyone you can think to ask.”

“Nothing?” I asked, when he had hung up.

“Everyone who was there agrees they were communists. She was going to marry one of them. That's what she said. They were going to Istanbul to live. David has friends all over. He's an environmentalist, you know. Has a house full of computers he runs for Greenpeace. Toting up evidence from around the world. He's quite a nice fellow. You must meet him someday.”

“Let's have breakfast and walk in the park,” I said. I liked having him there, in his dressing gown, talking to London at seven in the morning, water boiling on the stove, the sun lighting up the tops of the buildings, a new day, a new world.

Meanwhile, Sheila was proceeding with her suit. A lawyer called me demanding a deposition but I put him off by saying I was on my way to Europe. Then Daniel called with more news.

“She's demanding to see Jessie,” he said. “She's in New York, Sister, did you know that?”

“No, where is she staying?”

“At the Pierre, so if it's drugs she's ahead this month.”

“Then let her come and visit. What difference does it make?”

“Because Jessie doesn't want to see her. She's still mad at her for going off without telling us.”

“Well, you can't keep her out of Charlotte. It's her home. Isn't she coming to see her mother and father?”

“I don't think so. I don't think she's talking to her father.”

“Daniel. Calm down. It's okay. What can I do to help you?”

“I think I'll bring Jessie up there this weekend. She can see Sheila at your place. It might be easier for her if you're there.”

“Sure. Come on up. Whenever you like.”

“How about Friday night and she can see Sheila on Saturday.”

“Sure. It's fine. I'd like it.”

“I'll call you back. Let me make some reservations.”

In thirty minutes the phone rang again. It was Jessie.

“Aunt Anna.”

“Yes, my angel, my darling. You're coming up, aren't you?”

“On Friday. On flight 6778 on Delta Airlines. Are you glad?”

“Oh, yes. We'll go to a concert Sunday. The philharmonic is playing Beethoven's Second. Do you still like it?”

“I'd love to go. Listen, can we buy some clothes like we did last time?”

“Of course. At Bloomingdale's. Oh, yes, I would love to go shopping with you.”

“Well, Dad wants to talk to you. Here he is.”

 

Then Daniel got on the phone. “Sheila's coming to your place Saturday morning at ten. I told her she couldn't take Jessie off alone and she agreed. I think she'll try to kidnap her, Anna.”

“No, she won't. We'll be there.”

“Did you get the flight number?”

“Yes. Do you want me to come out to the airport?”

“No. It's too much trouble. Just check the weather if it's bad. We might be delayed.”

“Come on then. I'm glad you're coming.”

Friday afternoon was gloomy and wet. It was seven o'clock before the taxi pulled up in front of my building. Looking down from the fifth-floor window I saw them get out. Jessie in a red raincoat with a yellow umbrella. Looking wonderful even from the fifth floor in the rain. I walked across the room and opened the door and stood watching the elevator. Then she was there and I held her in my arms. Eleven years old and already almost as tall as I am. Long arms, long legs, long waist, milky white skin, skin like alabaster, like marble, eyes as blue as the sky. The most wonderful of all my nieces, the most beautiful and perfect. I stood in the entrance hall and held her in my arms. She shimmered and trembled and was Jessie. It was like holding a waterfall. As though your arms were full of light, and of course they were.

“You angel,” I said. “You gorgeous child. Listen, it's only seven-fifteen. Bloomingdale's is open for three more hours. Let's go.”

“Oh, can we?” she said. I had been joking but all of a sudden I decided it was not a joke. I turned to Daniel. “Jessie and I are going to Bloomingdale's. Drop that bag. Let's go shopping. Then we'll get something to eat.”

“Let me go to the bathroom.” He laughed his old childhood Daniel laugh. “Fix me a drink for the road.” I went into the kitchen and got out some ice and made him a Scotch and water in a road glass. God bless my baby brother. He was still the sweetest man in the world. He knew this was a night to be lived through. If I said, Let's drop everything and go to Bloomingdale's, he knew it was the thing to do.

By eight o'clock we were walking in the huge glass doors of the store. The crowd of shoppers was thinning but plenty of people were still there. There were two hours to shop. “Where do you want to start?” I asked Jessie. “Your wish is my command.”

“I want to look at some boots,” she said. “Remember that time we came here and you got me those red boots?” She had been eight years old and we had gone to Bloomingdale's to find her some rain boots.

“Sure I do, honey,” I said. “Who could forget a day like that.”

So we started in the shoe department and bought a pair of knee-high leather boots and a shoulder bag to match. Then we bought a pair of aqua high top tennis shoes and four pairs of colored socks.

“An hour left to go,” I said. “Where do you want to go next?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Let's just wander around and see what all is here. Is that okay with you, Dad?” He was following us, carrying the packages.

“Good idea,” I said. “Besides, we can come back tomorrow afternoon and finish up. Let's case the joint. Let's get on the escalator and ride.”

We rode an escalator that went up over the jewelry department, then rode back down and looked at the makeup and perfume. Then we rode up two floors to the girls' department and Jessie tried on a fir green blazer piped in white and a Black Watch plaid skirt and several sweaters. At a quarter to ten we went back downstairs and stopped at the candy counter. We bought white chocolate squares and wandered out onto the street, holding our packages and eating candy.

“Let's go to the Stage Deli,” Daniel said. “Remember when Dad's stockbroker took us there when we were about her age?”

“Buddy Friedman,” I answered. “Daddy used to say, Buddy is my Jew. They would laugh and hold their stomachs when he said it and I would die of embarrassment. His son was killed in Vietnam. His only child.”

We rode in a taxi to the Stage Deli and had pastrami sandwiches and potato salad and Jessie drank hot chocolate and kept her chair very close to mine.

“What time is my mother coming tomorrow?” she asked.

“At ten. I'm glad, honey. It isn't good to never see your mother.”

“She went off and didn't tell me. Grandmother Elise says she will never forgive her for that and neither should I.”

“Never forgiving someone only hurts you,” I said. Daniel shook his head at me, so I let it go at that. I pulled Jessie closer. I kept one arm around her while I ate.

 

When we got home she wanted to sleep with me and of course I let her. I slept fitfully, feeling her beside me. I would wake and reach out and touch her, touch her gown, then touch her hair. She is a miracle, I kept thinking. Nothing must ever harm her.

So I'll perjure myself if I have to. Or pay someone else to do it or whatever I have to do. Spy or gossip or lie. That's that.

About five I got out of bed and went into the kitchen and called Adrian. He answered sleepily, “Hello, hello. Adrian Moss here. Hello.”

“Adrian, forgive me for calling you so early. You have to do something for me, something important.”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I need you to come over here this morning, about ten-thirty. Sheila is coming here at ten to see her little girl, my niece. My brother brought her yesterday. He really does drink quite a bit, Adrian. It's possible she might get the child. I want you to drop by very casually. Say you have to return an umbrella, no, a book. Say you brought back a book. Then she will have to confront you, whether she remembers meeting you or not. You can confront her, question her. Will you do this for me?”

“Of course. At half past ten then?”

“Yes.”

“I'll be there. Are you all right, Anna?”

“I will be when this child is safe.” I hung up then and went into the small kitchen and began to cook.

By nine-thirty Daniel and Jessie and I were dressed and waiting. At ten we sat down in the living room and talked about Bloomingdale's. We talked about the Black Watch plaid skirt and the blazer, about how great it would look with the boots, about whether she should have one turtleneck sweater to go with it, or two. “Two,” I said. “A white one and a dark blue and a dark slip. I never will forget my first navy blue petticoat. Helen and I both had one but Helen hadn't lost her baby fat and it stuck on her waist. It was stuck on her waist like a ship aground on an island. Dearest Helen, how is she, Jessie?”

“She's okay. But DeDe is throwing up, she's anorexic, isn't she, Dad? No one can get her to stop.”

“She needs to be in therapy. Daniel, please tell Helen to get her some help. You can't solve these things alone anymore.” Then the doorbell rang. It was twenty minutes after ten and I went to the door and Sheila was there. She was wearing a black designer suit and very smart black shoes and black hose and silver jewelry. Her hair was short and curled around her face and she seemed prettier than I remembered. She walked past me into the apartment and ignored Daniel and turned to her child. Jessie did not get up from the chair.

“I know you're mad at me,” Sheila began. “But you don't know what I've been through.” Jessie looked away.

“Look at me,” Sheila said. “Come over here and sit with me.” She pulled Jessie up from the chair and led her over to the sofa and seated herself beside her. She held Jessie's hand. Then she began to talk about herself. About her career, about plays she was being “considered” for, about her famous titled friends, about a letter she got from the governor of Virginia, about people who had said wonderful things about her. “Don't you want to come stay in London with me?” she said. “Don't you want to be with me for a few years now?”

“She isn't going to live with you in London.” Daniel got up and walked closer to the sofa. “You aren't going to go live with her, Jessie. Don't you worry about that.”

“Let her talk, Dad,” Jessie said. “Please let her talk.” She looked up at him. She was trying so hard but she didn't know what to do. How does a child litigate between her parents?

“You could come stay with me and go to Switzerland to school next year,” Sheila was saying. “You love Switzerland and we could get you into a school there. They have the best schools in the world. You can meet princes there, the people who run the world. I want you to know the big world now. And I want you near me. It's embarrassing for me to tell people you are over here.”

“She isn't going to school in Switzerland,” Daniel said. “She's a cheerleader. She's on the soccer team. She's a normal girl, Sheila. She's going to stay that way. Why are you starting this? Why start this after all these years?”

“Two years.”

“Two and a half. You left in July.”

“Oh, please don't fight about it.” Jessie turned to her mother. “I missed you so much. I wanted to see you.” She was beginning to cry but Sheila didn't notice. Sheila was still looking at Daniel.

“For God's sake,” I said. “Goddammit, Sheila, why did you come here and start all this? Don't cry over her, Jessie. She isn't worth it. Not after what she did to you.”

“I have done nothing to anyone, Anna,” Sheila began. The doorbell was ringing. Two short polite rings. Then another. I got up and went to the door and let Adrian in. “Oh, hello,” I said, in a stage voice. “Come on in. Nice of you to drop by. My brother's here. Come and meet my brother.” I took Adrian's coat and led him into the living room. Daniel was standing by the sofa glaring at Sheila. Jessie had settled into the flowered cushions. Sheila started to turn on the charm, then stopped herself. She blanched. She turned absolutely white.

“This is Adrian Moss,” I began. “A friend from England. My sister-in-law, Sheila Hand, Adrian. My brother Daniel. My niece Jessie.” The men shook hands. Adrian smiled at Sheila, then sat down beside her in a chair.