Boston was fine, even if it wasn’t New York. From her room high up in a block on the south side, Talissa gazed out towards the Charles River. She was expecting Felix for the evening and wasn’t sure how to behave.
They had seen each other on her return from London, but she could tell at once that something had changed, irreversibly. He had talked for a long time about someone called Jada, a woman he had apparently become close to. Her family was difficult to deal with, he said, because of ‘cultural differences’.
‘You could have come to London more often,’ Talissa had said.
‘I came when I could. Any time work allowed. But I didn’t feel at ease in your apartment there.’
‘Why not? I made the room all homey for you. I bought your favourite beer. Or don’t you like that one any more?’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘What was it then?’
‘I knew your landlady was judging me. She was saying bad things about me.’
‘Don’t be crazy. You’re bigger than that.’
Talissa thought she knew what had happened. She had put her work before her emotional life: before him. Felix must have felt that she had shown where her priorities were. She could hardly blame him. He had also told Leon, who told Susan, who at once passed it back to Talissa, that he felt betrayed. She had, after all, had a child with another man.
She had tried to win him back by gentleness and flattery, by being kind and not hoping for too much. She was not going to give up on the other half of her because of that one misjudged conversation in which she had become suddenly self-conscious, like a tightrope walker who looks down. Yet from her side, that was how it looked.
She remembered bits of conversation from the early days, when they lay still after making love. ‘What are you listening for?’ ‘Your breathing,’ he said. ‘If there’s any catch in it I know I haven’t done my job.’ ‘And now?’ ‘As clear as a southern breeze.’ These were the moments when she had felt filled with a peace that could never be broken – but which through her impulsiveness she had apparently squandered.
This could happen, it seemed. You ruined it, your one big chance at love, by inexperience, at the age of twenty-six. The rest of your life would be a shadow play.
Her two-year position as a paid postdoc had been renewed by the Helen Lingard Institute, though this was now her final year and she had been promised an assistant professor job when she returned to New York in the fall. She had her own loft apartment in Boston now, only one room, but spacious, with a screened-off sleeping area, a queen bed and a balcony with a river view, if you strained your eyes a little. The HLI was on Prospect Street in Cambridge, between the headquarters of HubSpot and MediPlus, and took about a half hour’s walk from where she lived, over the bridge with its new cycle and pedestrian paths that had halved the traffic going past the old Mobil gas station. She used the time to gear herself up for the challenges of work. The research group consisted of six people and she sometimes felt she was the least gifted of them all. There was a competition to impress the boss, Kristof Landor, a Hungarian émigré of terrifying intellect with a way of moving his head suddenly on its axis, like a hawk.
At a party in Landor’s Back Bay house, Talissa had met a cousin of his, Aron, who worked in construction. ‘They got the brains. My side of the family got the brawn,’ he told her over a large bourbon, clutching his glass in a paper napkin. For a year afterwards, she met Aron in the small apartment at his head office or in a white clapboard inn near the golf course at Brookline, where he seemed happy to indulge her playful fantasies. His own demands were always the same, that she pretend to be a dental nurse as he gazed down her shirt front. He liked to use the language of his business when they fixed their next rendezvous. ‘Site visit Tuesday?’ The construction business offered no end of erotic double meanings; they made her smile, though she drew the line at having their liaison described as a ‘servicing agreement’. Aron Landor was a simple guy, Talissa thought, which was one of the reasons she enjoyed his company, until his wife became suspicious. ‘This project’s done, missis,’ he told Talissa in the end. ‘I’m real sorry. I’m handing in the keys.’ ‘I know,’ she said, kissing his cheek. ‘It’s been a pleasure, mister.’ And so it had been, to fool around with no thought of children, no entanglements, just a pulse of secret anticipation at the HLI on the days when she’d be heading out to see him. It had helped her to think less about Felix and the fact that their love affair had lasted only ten months.
As the big dinner day came near, she had begun to worry that she couldn’t remember what Felix liked to eat. Beer was what he drank, craft beer to be precise – Desperado, Copperneck and others easy to track down in the specialist stores in her neighbourhood. She made a salad with butter lettuce and grilled shrimp and a dressing she’d invented, with sides of cornbread and yellow tomatoes of a strain that had been rescued from extinction, the deli guy said, by growers in Oregon. On a last-minute impulse, she dashed to the spice store and also made a cashew nut curry, consulting the recipe that was still on her handset. She squeezed in half a lime at the end and raised a glass to Mrs G.
She had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. That soft skin, the thing her genes had first cried out for; then the loose curls and the narrow wrists that led to those hands … broad but with delicate fingers that, when he was in the mood, were able to carve thoughts in the air. She felt as if she might faint, and made up her mind to appear indifferent.
He kissed her, turned away and looked out of the window.
After a minute, Talissa said, ‘What are you staring at?’
‘See that car down there?’ he said.
‘Which one?’ She crossed to the window.
‘The black town car. The one parked in front of the warehouse.’
‘Yes, I see it.’
‘Who does it belong to?’
‘How should I know? I never saw it before.’
Felix went and sat down on the sofa.
‘Let me get you a beer,’ said Talissa. ‘You seem a little distracted.’
‘We’re on the verge of this huge deal, you know.’
‘That’s good. Did the big investor come through?’
‘They turned against us.’
‘But there’s others?’
‘There’s a lot of interest. We’re taking offices in Murray Hill.’
‘That’ll be expensive.’
‘People let you down.’
During dinner, he seemed to find it hard to concentrate and changed the topic, seemingly at random, but perhaps in accordance with a logic that Talissa couldn’t see.
‘Are you still in the same place with your Brooklyn couple?’ she asked, trying to get him onto familiar things.
‘They didn’t renew. They’d been planning to move in a friend of theirs all along. They didn’t tell me.’
‘So, where are you living now?’
He looked at her hard, as if for the first time. ‘I live in Queens.’
‘Is it a nice place? A house or what?’
‘It’s OK.’
‘Do you like the shrimp?’
‘What? I don’t like shrimp. What’s this?’
‘It’s cashew nut curry. I got the recipe from my landlady in London.’
‘She was not a good person. She told lies.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Kavya was like a mother to me. As long as you kept her off politics, she was great company as well.’
‘She was always saying bad things. She was a schemer.’
‘Bullshit. You shouldn’t talk like that about people you don’t know.’
Felix was looking at the underside of a plate. ‘Where are these from?’ he said.
‘They came with the apartment.’
‘I think they’re from Dresden.’
‘Maybe that’s the style. I didn’t know you were a ceramics expert.’
‘People pay millions for these waterfront properties. We sold one to the MediPlus chief executive. For twelve million. He’s going to put a pool in.’
‘What do you mean you sold it? You in Boston real estate now?’ Talissa laughed.
‘That woman told me.’
‘Which woman?’
Felix didn’t answer.
Talissa stood up and poured herself some wine. ‘Would you like to know what I’ve been up to?’
There was no reply, but Talissa told him anyway, omitting the visits to Brookline and the old-style underwear that was apparently standard for a dental nurse.
‘So I aim to be back in New York in September … Did you hear that? Felix?’
‘OK.’
‘Would you like some dessert? I got this from the French patisserie. Or I have organic cheese from a local farm. In Fairhaven or somewhere.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
When she came to look more closely, he did look thin.
‘How’s Jada by the way?’
‘She was unfaithful.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Though I guess it spares you those “cultural issues”.’
‘I’m with Desirée now.’
‘Who’s Desirée?’
‘Jada’s sister.’
‘Jesus. Is that a good idea?’
Felix didn’t answer but stood up again and walked over to the window. ‘Sonofabitch is still there,’ he said.
Talissa went and stood beside him. A terrible fear was creeping up in her. ‘My love,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm, the beautiful arm that used to hold her. ‘Will you tell me just what’s going on?’
Felix said, ‘They must have called ahead from Penn Station when they saw me get the train.’
‘But why are they following you?’
‘My phone’s bugged. My messages.’
‘Have you called the police?’
‘They have the police in their pocket. What do you think those lobbyists are doing up on Capitol Hill? Making sure they pay no tax. That’s just for the little guys. The girl on the checkout. They pay the taxes so the system stays in place.’
‘You sound like a hippy or something.’
‘It’s how it works. They don’t just read your messages, you know.’
‘And how do you know this? Who told you?’
‘I’m smarter than they think.’
Talissa poured herself more wine. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this. Felix talked for another hour in his urgent yet toneless voice, yawing and banking in the breeze of his thoughts, driven on by some narrative reasoning that was hidden from Talissa, though compelling to him. She tried to help by suggesting connections between the men in the car, the woman who told him things, the investors who had let him down and other actors in his life. He was too impatient to explain and brushed her questions away. For Talissa, it was like coming in on the end of a long spy movie and trying to catch up on who was on which side and who’d said what to who and why and what the hell it all added up to.
By the end of the evening, it was clear to her that there was no point in searching for the lost pieces of a complicated jigsaw. What had gone missing was Felix.
The next day she called Susan.
‘I don’t know, T. He was always a little weird, wasn’t he?’
‘What do you mean? You introduced us!’
‘Yeah, I know. He was OK back then. His dreams and schemes were kind of what made him attractive, weren’t they? They were part of the package.’
‘He was so romantic.’
‘That’s what I’m saying. But then, I guess … things kind of got the better of him.’
‘What does Leon say?’
‘I haven’t seen Leon in almost six months.’
‘But they were close, right?’
‘Yeah, in a guy way. I’m not sure they ever, like, really confided.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ said Talissa. ‘I feel there’s something badly wrong.’
‘You think? It’s not just macho bullshit? They have their pride, you know. And if it’s not worked out for him in business, he’ll have to make up some weird excuses.’
‘It’s not like that. He believes this shit. He believes it so much he can’t concentrate on what’s actually in the room.’
‘OK, honey, I’ll take your word for it. I haven’t seen the poor guy in months. Don’t cry, T-T.’
‘I’m not crying. But I am upset.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘We were lovers. We were … I knew he was flaky. I didn’t always trust him. But I … I took his part. I wanted it all to work out for him. I loved him.’
She’d never said these words before, she thought, not even to Felix.
‘I know you did, honey.’
Talissa breathed in.
‘You still there?’ said Susan.
‘Sure. But if I interfere, he might think I’m trying to get back with him or something.’
‘But you are, aren’t you? Does he still have feelings for you?’
‘I don’t know. He started talking about something else straight away. He didn’t really engage with me all evening. He never asked me how I was.’
‘So. No feelings.’
‘Not for me,’ said Talissa. ‘Not for anyone, I think.’
‘Hasn’t he got someone else?’
‘Well, there’s someone called Desirée, who’s the sister of his ex. Jada. But I wasn’t that convinced.’
‘Who the hell is Jada?’
‘Someone whose family he had “cultural differences” with. Don’t laugh.’
‘I never met the woman. Never heard of her.’
‘Perhaps it was a secret affair.’
‘Listen,’ said Susan. ‘I’ll call him.’
‘Won’t he think that’s weird?’
‘No. He was my friend first, remember? It’s OK. I’ll suggest we meet up. Maybe invite Leon, too. I should see Leon anyway. I don’t like to leave things hanging. So I’ll meet with them and call you back.’
‘I like you, Kojak.’
‘Thanks. How’s your love life anyway?’
‘I have no love life. I’m an anthropologist. I view people scientifically.’
‘What about that builder guy? Has he hung up his power t—’
‘Call me.’
It was a joke going back to the ninth grade that Talissa was a femme fatale with insatiable appetites while Susan was the chaste and practical one. It had not been true then and it was not true now, thought Talissa – though as she’d passed the age of thirty, who knew? A friend of her mother’s had told her that her romantic life had only started to blossom in her fifties.
For the moment, she felt no need for someone. Occasionally she wondered if, without Felix, she was better off alone anyway: the absence gave her something to idealise and long for. When she was a sophomore, a college counsellor had told her this was because her father had died when she was young and she had become determined that no one should replace him. ‘OK,’ said Talissa. ‘If you say so. But I only came by to get a vitamin supplement.’
She didn’t think about Seth. Mary had messaged and sent a photograph in the first week, but Talissa had asked her not to send any more. There was something about the way Seth looked that made her feel unhappy: he was familiar yet unfamiliar. Perhaps it was only that he looked so little like her. The picture made her feel anxious and she put it away in a drawer.
Anyway, the protocol was that there should be no contact until he was twelve and it was there for a reason. He was Mary’s son.
Susan called to say she had met with Leon and Felix. It seemed they had had a lot to drink in a bar in Tribeca, then gone to a steakhouse in Brooklyn. Felix didn’t make much sense, she said, but wanted to be left alone. He had moved to an apartment on Park Avenue, apparently. After dinner, she and Leon took the subway north together. Leon said he thought Felix had been referred to a psychiatrist, but he’d seen him only once; he was pretty sure the Park Avenue apartment didn’t exist and that Felix was still in Queens. She and Leon had another drink back at her place and one thing had led to another, so the evening had not been a complete write-off, Susan said. ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ said Talissa.
In June, she packed up her stuff and, in the Allston tradition, left what she didn’t want out on the street for next year’s undergrads to help themselves. In the summer, she took a backpack and a small tent up into the Adirondacks, having discovered that camping was really not that bad. She didn’t cook on a fire as well as Alaric did (less practice, she told herself), but she slept for eight hours a night and it was cheap as hell. She fell in with some other people, nature freaks, and they explained the bird life. She told them about excavations and a pioneer woman archaeologist who used to sit on top of the trench and shout down to the students: ‘Dig faster! Faster!’ In October she moved into an apartment in Harlem, not far from where Susan was living with Leon, and began her work as an assistant professor, with some teaching and her own research into Homo vannesiensis.
It was a hopeful time of year, when the wind came off the Hudson and blew her coat back against her as she walked towards the subway.