Chapter Twenty-One

 

The announcement was in the paper the next morning. In the Society section, the column marked “Engagements.” Will Allen. Kate Grayson. To be wed on the twenty-seventh of November in Trinity Cathedral. Ms. Grayson the daughter of publishing CEO Lloyd Grayson, a recent graduate of Sarah Lawrence, and an avid cycling enthusiast, wine taster, and yearly visitor to the shores of her family’s Martha’s Vineyard summer home.

On the morning train, Eleanor folded her paper so the column was open to it. A black and white photo of the happy couple above: Will in an Armani suit, Ms. Grayson in a black dress and simple pearls, her hair pulled in a sleek knot to one side.

She was pretty, Eleanor noticed. An elegant contrast to Will’s last choice. The thought of Marianne came with pain: pain for the thought of her alone in the studio apartment, curled on the bed with the first waves of morning sickness.

How could Will do this? How could he use her and shove her aside without any guilt, any feeling? A handful of weeks in their existence which would forever alter Marianne’s life and from which Will exited unscathed. It did not do to think about it too long, for Eleanor could feel the blood grow heated in her veins over the memory of Will’s gaze when he looked at Marianne, the way he touched her openly, passionately, without thought for how it affected someone as sensitive as Marianne.

She folded the paper completely in half. Then tossed it into the neighboring seat, where someone else could have it if they wanted it. Destroying one copy was pointless, since there were countless others in the city; and the same announcement would appear in every other paper in town as well. Although Marianne didn’t read anything more than the headlines, she would undoubtedly hear about this through friends with ties to society.

The train came to a stop, half of its passengers seeming to exit while another crowd swept on from the platform. A man in a brown trench coat entered, walking along the aisle until he caught sight of Eleanor and stopped short.

It was Edward. From the look on his face, he was surprised to see her there. Embarrassed also, judging by his expression. The seat beside him was empty, so he sat down. Two seats ahead of Eleanor, who was doing her best to look out the window.

She had been looking into his face beforehand, of course. She wondered if he had read her shock as easily as she had read his own. She had felt the color leave her face when he boarded. A rush of attraction had engulfed her, giving way almost immediately to resentment and humiliation. A cold and bitter second wave of emotion at the sight of him, drowning all longings from before.

The doors closed. The train jolted, then moved forwards again. Eleanor continued gazing out the window, avoiding looking towards the back of Edward’s head. He seemed absorbed in staring forwards, towards the commuters seated in various states of reading, boredom, or self-entertainment.

Several minutes passed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Edward’s head move. He was glancing towards her, even as she kept her gaze fixed away from him. He turned in his seat, one arm resting on the back of it as he glanced towards the opposite aisle. She had a full view of his profile now, past the empty seats between them.

His lips moved. “When I met you ...” he began, his voice emerging faintly, stiffly. “I was intending ... I didn’t mean for anything to happen.”

She said nothing. Her lips pressed themselves together as she watched the scenery fly by outside.

“I knew I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be with you in any sense,” he said. “But it seemed so harmless at first that I said it was friendship. And things between Lucy and I – were so very far from permanent.”

Eleanor didn’t answer.

“Lucy had spoken about you, who knows how many times. But I had pictured someone ... older, somehow. I didn’t realize – I didn’t put it together until much later. Too late.”

She was determined not to say anything. She felt fearful that it would somehow show in her face what she was feeling.

“I met Lucy when I was ... when I first entered law school. She was twenty. There was something about her confidence which drew me. Seeing someone so determined and open about their path while I was fumbling around. I seemed old for her, even at twenty-six. But we began dating and ... we didn’t stop. Not when she transferred to another school, not when I went home to Washington.”

The sound of someone coughing, the tinny sound of someone’s cell phone tune. Eleanor heard these things, even as she heard the sound of Edward’s breathing. Sensed them the way she sensed the movement of his head resting on his hands.

He sighed. “When she said she was settling here, it was with the suggestion that I come, too. So I thought I would do it. It seemed like the inevitable. She and I.”

Through the window, the view of two cars crossing the intersection seemed like a still life: the pedestrians seemed melancholic figures stranded with their own thoughts, like figures in an Edward Hopper portrait. Eleanor’s hands were folded on her lap, ironing the creases from her business skirt.

She knew Edward was looking at her now. She could feel his gaze without moving her head.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said. An ache of apology in his voice. Of regret. Whether for hurting her or losing her, Eleanor couldn’t know.

For a moment, she was still silent. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. “About Lucy. About your impending engagement.” She looked at him. The meaning of the expression on his face was one she couldn’t interpret.

He did not look away. “I suppose because ... if I didn’t mention it, then there was no excuse to stop,” he answered, carefully. His voice was trembling. “Seeing you – speaking to you. Something I assumed would happen when I mentioned Lucy.”

“Did you ...” She didn’t finish this thought. She looked away, blinded by a sudden wave of tears that clouded her vision. Silence lapsed, in which she was aware that Edward glanced at her for a moment. Only a moment, she knew, before he gazed forwards again, into the opposite aisle.

“Would you have ... still spoken to me?” he asked. “If you had known?”

It was a long moment before she answered. “No.” Her voice was quiet, an element of pain in it. “No, I wouldn’t have. Not the same way.”

She wouldn’t have followed him to the movie and sat waiting to run into him at its close. She wouldn’t have gone to the restaurant and sat at a table in hopes that he would see her and join her. She wouldn’t have lingered in the coffee shop in hopes that he would speak to her and that she would see that beautifully warm smile that made her blush with longing. None of that would have happened, not if she had known that he was in Pittsburgh to spend time with Lucy Deane.

Even if he had been attracted to her – cared about her – it didn’t matter. In the back of his mind, Lucy was there. The reason for his presence in Pittsburgh, his new life, his new job, his new friends who introduced him to film retrospect screenings and dinner parties.

Edward was still, but the emotion in the air was palpable. A taste of pain, a cloud of misery. He wanted to look at her again, she knew. And then he did.

“I am truly sorry,” he repeated, gently. “That I hurt you.”

There was nothing else to say for either of them. He didn’t turn around to sit in his seat, but remained in thought as he was, sideways, so that Eleanor was forced to notice his profile. The signs of pain and deep disappointment etched in the lines of his face, the corners of his eye and mouth, and wonder what he was thinking. This, until she dropped her gaze from the window to the floor below.

When the train halted at the next stop, Edward rose. He exited the train with the moving sea of passengers disembarking to the platform and the bustle of the outside world. Through the window, Eleanor caught a glimpse of his brown coat, briefly, before he was lost in the crowd.

Although it was her stop, she remained seated. The new crowd boarded, the doors closed, and the train rolled on with Eleanor still in the same place. She rode on, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular, her mind turning away the thoughts which came to it with persistence in this silence of rumbling tracks and restless human forms.