15
CASSY SAYS SHE THINKS
SHE KNOWS WHAT ALEXANDRA
IS GOING TO SAY
“You have to eat dinner with us,” Cassy was saying to Alexandra in the cab driving home. “I forgot to call the caterers. We’ve got food for sixty.”
“So you’re not perfect,” Michael muttered, looking out the window. Cassy, on the other side of Alexandra, leaned forward.
“What?”
Michael turned. He was going to have a black eye, the outline of which was darkening by the minute. He lowered the cold pack from his cheek. “I said, so you’re not perfect after all.” Pause. “A fact Alexandra perhaps should be made aware of.” He turned back to the window.
Cassy sat back in her seat without a word. After a minute Alexandra said, “I am rather tired. Perhaps we should do this another night.” Both Cassy and Michael looked at her.
“Well,” Cassy said, “maybe—”
“Oh, Christ,” Michael said, “you can’t leave me with her” He imitated Cassy’s voice. “’Michael, I think you should do this—Michael, I think you should do that—Michael, sweetheart—’ Who the fuck needs it?”
Silence. Alexandra was looking down at her hands. The Cochrans were looking out their respective windows. The cab turned down 87th Street, and then right again onto the Drive. The police blockades were down and only a few neighbors were still out, picking up trash. The cab pulled up in front of their building.
Michael started to reach for his wallet.
“I’ll get it,” Cassy said.
“I can pay for the goddam cab, can’t I?” Michael yelled at her.
Cassy fumbled to open her door. Alexandra reached over to unlock it for her.
“No,” Michael said to the driver, “I changed my mind. I’m driving on.”
Cassy tossed her head. “Great, where are you going? Sam Wyatt’s for round 2?”
Michael glared at her. “You are such a cunt,” he said.
“Fine.” She yanked the handle of the door. “I don’t care what you do,” she said, getting out. Alexandra started to slide out.
“Don’t,” Michael said, taking hold of her arm. “I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Alexandra said, taking her arm back. She climbed out and closed the door behind her. The cab pulled away.
“Well,” Cassy said, standing there, scratching the back of her head, looking at the entrance to her building.
“Cassy,” Alexandra said.
“Hmmm?”
“Come on.” She pulled on Cassy’s arm and Cassy looked at her, not understanding. “Come on,” Alexandra repeated. “Let’s just get away from here for a while. Let’s just go.
“A flicker of a smile passed over Cassy’s face. Then she shook her head. “No, I’ve got all that food upstairs... “Cassy looked back at her.
Alexandra was smiling, eyes twinkling. It was the look of someone who suspected she was about to get her way. “Come on,” she said, taking Cassy’s arm.
“But where will we go?” Cassy said, being pulled along.
Alexandra laughed, stopped and looked at her. “Anywhere,” she said. And then she resumed pulling Cassy along. “We’ll get my car and take it from there.”
They walked up 88th to West End Avenue and then over to a garage on 87th Street. Alexandra’s car turned out to be a navy-blue MG and Cassy covered her face when it came down on the elevator. “You don’t expect me to get into that thing, do you?”
When Cassy got in, she felt as if she were sitting on the ground. It was comfortable, in fact rather marvelous, but she rolled her window down for a sense of a little more space. Alexandra got in and started unhinging two large metal hooks over the windshield. “Oh, you’re not—” Cassy protested.
“Oh, yes, I am,” Alexandra said, laughing. She unsnapped and unzipped this and that and then hopped out to bring the top down. “Okay,” she said, getting back in, “buckle up.” Alexandra snapped her seat belt into place, helped Cassy with hers, took out a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment, put them on, revved the motor, put the car into gear, and grinned.
“Kidnapped by Darth Vader,” Cassy said.
Alexandra laughed and drove the car out of the garage.
It was wonderful. Cassy felt as though she were flying. The wind blew against and around her face and the buildings loomed like canyon walls and children waved to them and it was free and open and it was wonderful. Alexandra headed east on 86th Street, toward Central Park. “How about my house?” Strands of her hair lashing against her face, Cassy’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Sure.”
They stopped for a light at Columbus Avenue and two boys behind them in an old Valiant honked and waved. The driver leaned out his window and called, “Hey! How about having some fun?”
Alexandra smiled into the rear-view mirror; Cassy peered around the headrest and whipped back around again. “Good Lord—I’m old enough to be his mother.”
“Hardly,” Alexandra said, sunglasses in Cassy’s direction.
The light changed and they shot ahead, the boys tailgating them.
“This happened to me in Nevada a few years ago,” Cassy said over the noise. “I was driving a friend’s Porsche and this car was following me. When I stopped at a light, this teenager pulled up beside me, took one look at me and nearly had a heart attack.” She laughed.
“Don’t,” Alexandra said, downshifting for the approach of the Central Park West light.
Honk, honk, honk went the boys’ car.
Alexandra looked in the rear-view mirror, pulled over into the right-hand land, and slowed almost to a stop. The boys behind them cheered.
“Alexandra, you’re not thinking of—”
As they crept to the corner, the light turned yellow. Alexandra revved the motor, slammed into first and the car shot across the intersection just as traffic on Central Park West began to move. They sailed into Central Park, the traffic closed up behind them, and the boys were stuck at the light.
The cool air of the park rushed over Cassy and she laughed. “It’s fun running away with you,” she called.
When they reached the other side of Central Park, Alexandra turned down Fifth Avenue, drove past the Metropolitan Museum, and then turned back into Central Park at 79th Street. “Just for a while,” she said to Cassy. And inside the park she took the turnoff for Central Park South and then took another turnoff and headed north, and another heading west, and on and on until she had taken Cassy on a motor tour of the whole park.
Cassy loved it. “You’re cold,” Alexandra said later, glancing over at her. “It’s getting too dark to be safe doing this anyway. I’m heading for home.”
Alexandra lived at the corner of 86th Street and East End Avenue. Her apartment, she explained, actually belonged to her uncle Arnold. He had lived there for forty-three years. Now he was back in Kansas, to be near her parents, and Alexandra’s lawyer was in negotiation with the owners about transferring the lease.
They parked in the building’s underground garage. Cassy watched as Alexandra put the top back up and then they took the elevator up to the sixth floor. Outside Alexandra’s door was a stack of newspapers, each neatly slipcased in plastic wrap. Cassy picked them up: the Washington Post; the Los Angeles Times; the Chicago Sun-Times; the Houston Chronicle; the London Times; and last, but not least, the Kansas City Star.
Alexandra sure liked white. The apartment was open and breezy in a way that reminded Cassy of a British colonial outpost in the tropics. The floorboards were light, there were what appeared to be close to a million plants, and then, of course, the white-the walls, the rug, the couch... No, Cassy decided, this was not a home intended for children. Certainly not a little boy. (She thought of the nice purple elephant Henry once drew on their living-room wall.)
What Cassy assumed was meant to be a dining room was now Alexandra’s work area. There was an enormous white (of course) table (a dining table?) that had a blotter and word processor on it, three stacks of magazines and journals, and several folders bulging with papers. There were a VCR and a small TV in the corner, bookshelves of videotapes, a set of Encyclopedia Britannica and World Book. an Oxford Dictionary... and plants. Yes, Alexandra certainly liked plants. The kitchen was small and cheery and—surprise—white. Even the TV set on the counter.
The bedroom was a fair size, with a nice view of Carl Schurz Park and the East River. The room, surprise, surprise, was pale blue. There was a double bed with shelves at the foot of it, where sat another small TV and more magazines and a pile of books. A chaise longue was under the window, beside which sat a small table and more books.
Cassy’s eye landed on the phone next to the bed. As if reading her thoughts, Alexandra said, “Go ahead. I’m going to change into some jeans—in the bathroom—and then start dinner. Bluefish okay with you?”
Cassy called the Marshalls’ and managed to recreate the story of the afternoon for Henry in a way that did not at all accurately reflect what had happened, but it did, at least, prepare him for seeing his father looking like a prize fighter.
Afterward, Cassy sat on a stool and watched Alexandra cook dinner. Alexandra asked her if she would mind eating on TV tables in the living room. Cassy said no, and Alexandra checked the asparagus, replaced the lid on the steamer and turned to her. “At the risk of sounding rude, would you like to talk or would you like to watch a movie?”
Cassy thought a movie sounded terrific and Alexandra sent her off to choose one. When dinner was ready, Cassy was still wading through the tapes, unable to make up her mind. There seemed to be eight categories in Alexandra’s collection—Colbert, Crawford, Davis, Dietrich, Garbo, Harlow, Hepburn and Lombard.
“We want something short,” Alexandra said.
“Oh, gosh, I don’t know—they’re all wonderful. I—I don’t know, you choose.”
Alexandra skimmed the titles and picked one. “Red Dust, “she said, “I bet you haven’t seen that for years. And it’s not even an hour and a half.”
And so they sat in the living room and watched a large Mitsubishi TV and shared their dinner and coffee and fruit with Clark Gable, Jean Harlow and Mary Astor. While Cassy enjoyed the movie immensely, she was also very much aware of the mess waiting for her at home—sigh—and the office. And Rosanne. Her thoughts drifted to her...
She helped clear the living room, and while Alexandra washed the dishes, Cassy had her permission to poke around. Cassy was stalling about going home (to God only knew what), and she knew Alexandra knew it. They were both yawning their heads off.
Cassy started looking at the photographs hanging just outside the kitchen in the front hall.
“I can spot your mother a mile away,” she called out.
A laugh. “We all look like Mom,” Alexandra called back.
“But you have your father’s mouth. This is your father—this man sitting at the desk?”
“Yes.”
“What does he do?”
“He used to be a congressman. Now he’s in private practice again. As a lawyer.” Alexandra came out into the hall, drying the steamer.
Cassy’s brow furrowed. “Your father isn’t Paul Waring, is he?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
Cassy looked at his picture again. “I remember his health insurance bill.”
“That got killed,” Alexandra finished, returning to the kitchen. “They called him a socialist.”
“Is he?” Cassy laughed.
“No.”
After a while, “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Three brothers, one sister. Paul’s the oldest. Then Elizabeth. Lincoln and David. And then me.” She came out again, holding the dish towel. She pointed to a group wedding photograph. “That’s Mom, Dad, my grandfather, Paul—he’s an assemblyman; that’s Linc, he’s a rock singer; David’s a lawyer; and Elizabeth teaches high school English.”
“Lincoln’s a rock singer?”
“I know,” she laughed. “You’d never know from that picture. He has orange and purple hair, last I heard.”
Cassy smiled. “Anyone married?”
“They’re all married. Right out of college. Linc got married in college.” She pointed. “These are my nieces and nephews.”
“Wow,” Cassy said.
“I know. The Warings are known for propagating at an alarming rate.”
“Hmmm,” Cassy said, straightening up. “It’s sure a good-looking family. “
Alexandra smiled, folding the towel.
“Who’s that?” Cassy asked. It was a picture of a young blond woman waving from a dock. “She’s very pretty.”
“An old friend,” Alexandra said, moving near Cassy to look at it.
Cassy waited for details but none came. “What’s her name?” Cassy finally asked.
“Lisa,” Alexandra said, walking out.
Cassy looked at the picture again and fiddled with one of her earrings, thinking. She leaned closer, examined the picture again, and then walked out to the kitchen. “Alexandra?”
“In the living room,” came the answer.
She was rewinding the video cassette.
Silence.
“I liked Gordon very much,” Cassy said.
Alexandra was watching the digital counter. “We knew each other at Stanford.” She glanced over. “He’s been great to me since I moved here.”
Silence.
“Quite frankly,” Cassy said, lowering herself into an easy chair, “I was jealous that night.” Alexandra’s head shot around. “All the way home I wondered what it would be like to go home with Gordon instead of Michael.”
Alexandra turned back to the machine.
Cassy crossed her legs and smoothed the denim on the top. “Does that sound awful to you?”
“No. It sounds very normal to me.” The tape stopped and Alexandra pushed the eject button. “Gordon liked you too. If you want... “she started, putting the tape back in its case. She smiled at Cassy. “Well, I mean, if you ever—” She laughed, embarrassed. “Of course you could have anyone you want,” she finished, moving across the room to put the tape back.
Cassy laughed slightly and then said, “You certainly don’t sound very attached to him.”
“I am,” she called from the work area, “but not the way you think.” Pause. “I was once—we lived together, actually. But,” she said, coming back into the room, “that was a long time ago.”
Cassy watched Alexandra as she walked over to the couch, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. “I really should be going home,” she said.
Alexandra sat down and tossed a pillow in her hands. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you would like. Or come again. Any time.”
;Cassy let her head fall back against the chair. “It’s been quite a day.”
“Yes,” Alexandra agreed, catching the pillow.
Silence.
“You really haven’t ever slept with Michael, have you?”
“Cassy!”
“Sorry.” She got up and pulled down her sweater. She smiled and walked over to the couch. “I’m sorry, it just occurred to me that it would kill me if I found out later that all along you had been—you were—” She sat down on the end of the couch. “What I mean to say is—thank you for everything you did today, for being so wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Alexandra drew her back up against the end of the couch. “You’re welcome.”
“And I’d like to be a friend to you too. Help you, if I can.” She looked down at her hands, turning her wedding band. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Silence.
“Alexandra—” She raised her eyes. “Don’t go with Michael. Under any circumstances, don’t go with him. Not now. Not the way he is.” She lowered her eyes. “It was inexcusable for me to talk the way I did today bringing up that idea.” Pause. “I wasn’t thinking—” She pounded her thigh with a fist. “Damn it,” she said, looking up at Alexandra, “I was thinking. I was thinking of him, of his career—at the risk of yours.” Pause. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Alexandra smiled.
The eyes.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said gently. “We were only talking.”
“Still... “Cassy touched the leaf of a plant on the windowsill behind them.
Silence.
“Cassy.”
Alexandra had her arms wrapped around her legs and was resting her chin on her knees. She dropped one hand to pluck at her sock. “There’s something I want to tell you—about me.” Alexandra’s eyes skipped up briefly—checking to see that Cassy was listening—and dropped again. “You’ll be able to blackmail me for a thousand years.”
Cassy waited.
“I, uh—” Alexandra exhaled, slowly, and bounced her chin on her knees three times, debating.
Silence.
After a moment Cassy said, “I think I know what you’re going to say.”
Alexandra’s eyes met hers.
“It’s okay,” Cassy said. She smiled. “This is New York, you know.”
Quietly. “Do you really know?”
Gently. “That you’re gay.”
“Oh, God,” Alexandra groaned, “is that what you think?” She fell back and looked to the ceiling. “One affair makes me gay?” She sat up. “Please don’t say that. Even I don’t know what I am—please.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassy said, “I spoke too quickly. I just—well, I thought there was—you—I don’t know, I—” She sighed, smiled and then shrugged. “What the hell do I know? You tell me.”
Alexandra looked agonized. She ran a hand through her hair. “This wasn’t such a great idea,” she said, blinking rapidly. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Well, anyway, now you know who Lisa is. Was.”
“Alexandra,” Cassy said quietly, reaching forward to touch her arm. Alexandra looked out the window. “It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Who you love is not important—the fact that you can love is. Really. The rest of it—” She gestured with her hand. “Look at me. I’ve been Miss Goody Two-shoes my entire life and look what it got me.” She shook her head, slowly. “Alexandra—You’ve got to live the life that makes you happy. And whether it’s a woman or a man—whose business is it?”
“The whole world’s,” came the reply, “or at least the tri-state area’s.”
“Are you worried about that?” Cassy leaned forward. “Alexandra, dear darling girl, I hate to tell you, but you’re not the first-bisexual-woman to be in the public eye.” She fell back with a laugh. “You’re going to have to do better than that to win sympathy from me.”
Silence. Alexandra brought her hands to her face and Cassy realized she was crying.
“Don’t,” Cassy said softly.
“It’s easy for you to say,” Alexandra said, springing from the couch. “Nobody gives a damn about what goes on in your marriage, just so long as you’re married.” She whirled around, covering her mouth with her hand. “Cassy, I’m sorry,” she said, sinking back down onto the couch. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just—I’m—” She lowered her face into the crook of her arm on the back of the couch.
Cassy leaned forward, patted her back and let her hand rest there a moment. Alexandra’s shoulders were trembling. “It’s okay, Alexandra, it’s okay,” she murmured. “We’re both so tired—so much has happened today.” Pause. “You must know though, Alexandra, that what you’ve told me makes me respect you all the more. Admire you all the more.” Pause. “You’re a wonderful young lady, you know. And you’ve got one of the biggest and brightest careers ahead of you... “Sigh. “And I understand,” she said, patting her back again, “how difficult things are for you right now. Living in a strange place... all the excitement... all the pressure that’s on you... “Cassy withdrew her hand.
Alexandra sat up and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She cleared her throat, swept her hair up with both hands and held it there. She sniffed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she dropped her hands into her lap. “But would you understand,” she said, “if I told you I think I’m falling in love with you?”