Once Is Not Enough (23 page)

“Head?”

“Go down. . . .” He pushed her head toward the limp thing that now rested on the inside of his leg.

She jumped out of bed. “I’m going home!” Then she stopped when she saw the blood. It had made a violent blotch on the sheets and was running down her legs.

He sat up. “For God’s sake, January, why didn’t you tell me you had the curse!” He jumped out of bed and ripped off the sheet. “Oh, Christ . . . right through to the mattress.”

She stood very still with her hand clamped between her legs. She felt that if she moved her hand, her insides would fall out. He turned and looked at her. “For God’s sake, don’t drip blood on the rug. There’s some Tampax in the medicine closet.”

She raced into the bathroom and locked the door. She took her hand away and nothing drastic happened. The bleeding had stopped. She took a towel and washed the blood off her legs. She felt sore and torn inside. The bright light over the medicine chest gave her face a yellow cast. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eye makeup was streaked, her hair was a mess. She must dress and get out. She washed the makeup off her eyes. Then, draping another towel around her, she opened the bathroom door and dashed into the living room. He didn’t even look up. He was still naked, but he had stripped the bed and was working furiously with cleaning fluid on the mattress.

She grabbed her clothes from the living room, picked up her
boots and stocking pants from the bedroom, and rushed back to the bathroom. When she came out, the bed was still stripped, but he was dressed.

“Well, I’ll just have to wait until it dries before I can tell,” he said. “I’ll probably have to call a cleaning service. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

He didn’t speak until they were in the cab. Then he put his arm around her. Involuntarily she pulled away. He took her hand. “Look, I’m sorry if I was cross about the sheets. But they’re Porthault, and you should have told me you had the curse. I know you’ve lived in Europe and some of those foreign characters like it. But I never wade through the red sea. Did you find the Tampax all right?”

“I don’t have the curse,” she said.

For a second he didn’t understand. Then it hit him and he slumped in his seat. “Oh, my God! January, you aren’t . . . I mean you weren’t . . . oh, Christ! But whoever heard of a twenty-year-old virgin? Especially one who looks like you. I mean, you felt tight, but I figured because you were so slim and . . . oh, Jesus . . .” He wound up with a groan.

They drove for a few blocks while he sat and silently stared into space.

“Why are you so upset?” she asked.

“Because, dammit, I don’t go around taking virgins.”

“Unfortunately, someone has to,” she said. “I remember a boy in Italy telling me that.”

When they reached the corner of her street, he asked the driver to stop. “Look, let’s go into that bar for a nightcap. I want to talk to you.”

They both ordered a Scotch. She hated the taste of it but hoped it would make her sleepy. God, how she wanted to fall into a dead sleep tonight.

David made rings on the napkin with his glass. “I’m still in shock. But . . . look . . . I’m really proud that you selected me to be the first. And you won’t be sorry. Next time I’ll really make you happy. January . . . I . . . I really care for you a great deal.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s fine. I mean I’m very flattered.”

He reached over and took her hand. “Is that all you feel?”

“Well, David—I—” She stopped. She had been about to say, “I don’t know you very well.” That was wild. She had just gone to bed with him.

“January . . . I want to marry you. You know that, don’t you?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I didn’t know you wanted to marry me. I know that Dee wants you to marry me. But I didn’t know you wanted to. I mean, this is all ridiculous, isn’t it, David? We’re strangers. We’ve been to bed together but we’re strangers. We sit here trying to find things to say to one another and it shouldn’t be like this. I mean, aren’t you supposed to want to shout . . . to sing . . . when you’ve had your first love affair? When you’re in love isn’t something marvelous supposed to happen?”

He looked past her and said quietly, “Tell me what you think it’s supposed to feel like?”

“I don’t know. But . . . well . . .”

“Like you never want the night to end?” he asked.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“And that you’re afraid to leave because it’s so wonderful that you want to own the person . . . be together every second.”

She smiled. “Sounds like we’ve both been watching the same late movies on TV.”

“January, will you marry me?”

She stared at her drink. Then she took a long swallow. She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know, David. I didn’t feel anything for you and—”

“Look,” he cut in. “Those things we both talked about. They don’t really happen. Maybe for one night with kids strung out on pot . . . or people enmeshed in a clandestine love affair . . . or—”

“Or?” she asked.

“Or . . . well . . . if a teeny bopper meets her hero . . . someone she’s always worshipped. I suppose every girl has her
dream man . . . just as some men have dream girls. Most of us go through life never meeting or realizing our dream.”

“Must we?” she asked.

He sighed. “Maybe it’s better that way. Because if you ever get it, you might find it impossible to let go. And you can’t hold a dream forever. You can’t marry a dream. Marriage is something different—it takes two people who want the same things, two people who like one another.” When she remained silent he said, “I . . . I love you, January. There . . . I’ve said it.”

She smiled. “Saying it and meaning it are two different things.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you’re trying to sell yourself almost as hard as you’re trying to sell me.”

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“No.”

“No? Then why did you come back with me tonight?”

“I wanted to fall in love with you, David. I thought maybe this would do it. But it hasn’t . . .”

“Look . . . it’s my fault. I didn’t know you were a virgin . . . Next time it will be different. I swear.”

“There won’t be a next time, David.”

For a moment he looked nonplussed. “You mean you don’t want to see me again?”

“I’ll see you . . . but I’m not going to bed with you.”

He motioned for the waiter and paid the check. “Look, this is just a normal reaction after what’s happened.”

She stood up and he helped her into her coat. He held her arm as they walked down the street. “January, I’m not going to crowd you. I won’t ask you to go to bed with me. I don’t care if we wait months. Maybe you’re right . . . let’s get to know each other better. But I promise you—you’re going to marry me. You’re going to love me and want me . . . But we’ll take it step by step. Well spend Thanksgiving together in Palm Beach. We’ll have four days and nights together. At least that will be a good start. And I promise—I’ll never ask you to go to bed. When it happens, it will happen the way you
want it. And as you fall asleep tonight . . . remember, I love you.

When she let herself into her apartment she ran the tub and tore off her clothes. She eased herself into the warm water . . . and tried to think of all the things David had said.

And it wasn’t until later, as she lay in bed, trying to sleep, that she realized he had not even bothered to kiss her goodnight.

When she awoke the following morning, she found she had hemorrhaged during the night. Her first thought was to call Linda. But she realized she wasn’t up to Linda at the moment. She could just see Linda’s expression if she heard the story. She tore through the phone book and found the number of Dr. Davis, the gynecologist Linda had told her about. When she explained she was hemorrhaging, she was told to come right over.

Oddly enough the examination itself was easier than sitting before his desk, fully clothed, and telling him the cause of her condition. To her relief he explained that although it was rare to experience this kind of bleeding, nothing was really wrong. He gave her a prescription for the pill, and also for a sedative. Then he told her to go home and stay in bed for the rest of the day.

When she got back to her apartment there was a messenger ringing her doorbell. He had a small package from Cartier’s for her. She signed for it, and went inside. It was a hand-carved ivory and gold rose attached to a heavy gold chain. The note read, “Real ones die. This will last much longer—to remind you that my feelings are also lasting. David.”

She put it in her drawer. It was beautiful, but at the moment she didn’t feel like thinking about David. She had stopped and gotten the prescriptions filled. The way she felt now, she had no desire to start on the pill. She put them away, beside the Cartier box. But she took one of the sedatives. Then she called Linda and said she had spent the morning at the dentist’s and wouldn’t be in.

She got into bed and tried to read . . . then the pill took its
effect. She was in a heavy sleep when the phone rang at five o’clock. It was David. She thanked him for the necklace. “Could we have a quick drink this afternoon?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not. I’m . . . I’m piled up with assignments,” she said.

He paused. “Well, there’s going to be a Securities Analysts’ meeting on the Coast in a few weeks, and several heads of companies are in town now. I’m afraid I’ll be tied up with meetings the next few nights.”

“That’s all right, David.”

“But I’ll call you each day. And the first free night, we’ll have dinner. I’m getting tickets for
Hair
next week.”

“That’s fine, David.”

Then she hung up and lay in the semidarkness. It was a peaceful feeling of half wakefulness, half sleep. But at nine o’clock the sedative wore off and she sat up and turned on the lights. The whole night stretched out. She thought about food; but she wasn’t particularly hungry.

She had made a list of subjects that might make interesting articles. She had intended to submit them to Linda today. She studied them now. Perhaps she should try to start one. She was particularly intrigued with the idea: “Is there life after thirty?”

It had come to her when Linda turned down a secretary who had top references and accepted a nineteen-year-old girl who just barely got by with shorthand. “January, I don’t want a woman of forty-three to be a secretary at
Gloss
. I don’t care if she was secretary to a president of an oil company for twenty years.
Gloss
is a swinging
young
magazine. I want shiny beautiful
young
people in this office.”

January had noticed when she had gone for her “commercial” that most of the girls who worked as secretaries and receptionists at the advertising agency were all in the nineteen-to-twenty-nine age bracket. Of course it didn’t apply to executives, or the woman who was head copywriter. Linda was pushing thirty—but for her job, she was young.

She liked Linda. But aside from their mutual enthusiasm for the magazine, they were worlds apart. At
Gloss
, Linda
was “Power.” When she walked through the halls, everyone snapped to attention. Linda at the weekly editorial meeting was cool and beautiful—in total command. Every editor and junior editor admired her almost classic elegance in looks and style. Yet Linda away from the office, with a man—any man-was devoid of any stature. She couldn’t understand Linda’s attitude about having a “body” next to her. Being able to enjoy sex with a man even if you didn’t particularly like him. Last night had been dreadful . . . even before the pain. She hadn’t felt any desire for David’s body. Was something wrong with her?

She had to talk it out with someone. Not Linda! Linda would immediately suggest vitamins or a psychiatrist.

Suddenly she felt she had to see Mike. Maybe they could have lunch tomorrow. She couldn’t really tell him what happened. But just talking to him might help. It was only nine thirty. He wouldn’t be in, but she could leave a message.

She couldn’t believe it when he answered the phone. (Oh, God, maybe she had interrupted him and Dee. . . .) She tried to make her voice light. “I can call back if you’re playing backgammon.”

“No. As a matter of fact you woke me.”

“Oh . . . I’m sorry. Apologize to Dee . . .”

“No, wait a minute. What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“I’m wide awake now and I’m starving,” he said. “Hey, how’s about if I jump into a cab and pick you up. Well have a hamburger.”

“Where’s Dee?”

“I shot her. She’s hanging in the closet.”

“MIKE!”

He laughed. “Be downstairs in front of your building in fifteen minutes. I’ll tell you the gory details.”

They went to the bar down the street and she studiously avoided the table she had sat at with David the previous night.

“Your old man is slowing up,” Mike said. “Played eighteen holes of golf, came home at five, and fell into a dead sleep. Dee wanted to go to dinner and a movie, but I couldn’t budge. She must have tried . . . but obviously I slept on. She left me
a note that she was off to play backgammon at a girlfriend’s. I guess she thought I’d sleep through the night.”

“And I woke you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m glad.” The waiter brought their hamburgers. He bit into his eagerly. “I was starving . . . as you can see. My stomach would have gotten me up around midnight, but I would have missed seeing you.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “How come you were sitting home tonight?”

“Oh . . . I had a date with David last night. Tonight he’s at some kind of a meeting.”

He nodded. “Translated—things aren’t going right.”

“He gave me a necklace from Cartier’s,” she said suddenly.

He pushed his beer away. He lit a cigarette and said casually, “A little early for Christmas, isn’t it?”

“He wants to marry me.”

His expression relaxed. Suddenly he smiled. “Well, Jesus, that’s a whole different story. Why didn’t you give me the bottom line right away?”

“I’m not in love with him.”

“You’re sure about that? I mean . . . you’ve known him only a short time. You’re positive it’s no deal?”