The Blue Line (27 page)

“And so?”

“I suppose it was the way they said it. Ben was with me at the gym when you called off our first date, remember?”

“I see. Fat Betty also made a snide remark at work when I got back from Argentina.”

“None of it matters anymore, my darling.”

“It might. My father called me.”

Theo remained stone-faced.

“Don't you want to know what he said to me?”

“No, I don't want to know. I really don't.”

“Well, we'll see.”

She took her glass of champagne and held it up, moving closer to Theo.

“To our love.”

“To an eternity together,” he answered.

They interlaced their fingers. For the first time Theo experienced a sense of release. The sea was a precious jewel and the sky was worthy of his gaze.

Mia was his.

The waiters marched solemnly up to their table, presenting the dishes and uncovering them in unison. The sun was beating down on everything except their table, which basked in welcome shade. But Theo and Mia were oblivious to their surroundings; they carried on laughing and enjoying themselves under the envious gaze of a couple at the next table who hadn't exchanged a single word.

Once they had finished their meal, Mia pushed back her chair to face the sea and stared into the distance. She followed a flock of seagulls returning from the open sea. The sky was an expanse of smooth blue separated from the sea by a long
mauve line. A slight breeze sprang up, rippling the plate-glass stretch of water. Mia arranged a shawl over her shoulders.

“I don't think I've ever been this happy.”

As she said these words, he took the blue velvet box out of his pocket, placed it gently on the white tablecloth, and opened it. He removed the solitaire, reached for Mia's hand, and slipped the ring onto her finger.

“So that nothing will ever separate us.”

—

The young woman sat on the side of the bed, her head heavy. She had had nightmares all night long. Theo caught her by the waist before she could get up, wanting to kiss her, but she freed herself. She went into the bathroom and took a long shower. When she came out, a cloud of steam billowed into the bedroom as if following her. She shut the bathroom door. Theo was standing by the window, about to draw the curtains. She made him stop. She had been avoiding sunlight for days.

He watched her slip on her black dress and knelt beside her to help her slide her feet into her heels. He couldn't bear it when she returned to her apartment. Ever since Julia had said she was leaving him, Theo had become needier, almost possessive.

Mia left him and returned to the bathroom. She emptied out her purse into the sink and stood in front of the mirror, pushing away the damp towels still lying on the floor with her foot. She pulled her hair back and expertly twisted it into a bun that shone like onyx. Then she leaned close to the mirror
and rummaged through her makeup. She went through her daily routine, but with extra care.

When she had finished, she examined herself with satisfaction.
I look like my mother
. For the first time, the thought of resembling her mother wasn't left to the realm of abstract concepts. She turned around instinctively and she saw that Theo was staring at her. There was a strange intensity in his look. Unsettled, she glanced around the room, as if someone else was looking at her.

She finally shrugged, laughing.

“I keep feeling like he's going to jump out at us.”

She extended her arm to caress Theo, who grabbed it with fervor. She broke free, nervously picked up her handbag, and left, shooting him an “I'll be back soon” look before pulling the door closed behind her.

—

When the elevator doors opened on the lobby floor, Mia saw a swarm of men in blue uniforms going up and down the corridors and stationed at all the exits. Police cars were parked at the entrance, lights flashing.

She intuitively backed away, feeling guilty without knowing why. The police? What were they doing here?
What if they're looking for Theo?
The thought hit her like a sledgehammer. She went pale, seized with panic.
What if Theo killed my father and didn't tell me?
An officer stared at her from the other side of the lobby. She looked for the nearest exit.
No, that's impossible
.
We
haven't been apart for days
. The policeman bent to whisper something into the ear of another officer, who nodded without turning around.
He's not a killer
.
Not yet
. The policeman crossed the lobby with a firm step, heading toward her. Mia could feel her knees about to give way.
Maybe my father's just killed Theo
.
They've found Theo's body in the room
.
They're coming to question me
. She met the policeman's eyes.
That's ridiculous. I'm losing my mind
. The officer approached Mia cautiously. He introduced himself politely, one hand resting on his gun.

“Good morning, ma'am. We're evacuating the hotel, and we need your full cooperation.”

She could feel the sweat pearling on her forehead. She half listened to the questions the officer was asking, heart pounding. The man became aware of her distress and asked in an authoritative voice: “Ma'am, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I'll be fine,” she stammered.

“I repeat: was there anyone else with you in the room?”

“No, no, I was alone.”

Checking his files, he continued: “You say you were in room 410. But according to the hotel register, the room was booked in the name of a Mr. Theo d'Uccello.”

“It's . . . Maybe Reception made a mistake,” Mia replied, still in the grip of her imagination.

“That's okay, ma'am. Don't worry,” the man said in a protective tone. “We still have time to get everyone out. Go see my colleague by the entrance; she'll tell you how to proceed. It's important to get all the cars out of the parking lot as soon
as possible. We think the plane will manage to land at a nearby airport, but we have to take protective measures.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Mia replied, wild-eyed.

A hotel employee was holding the main door wide open to make way for a dozen guests, who couldn't get out fast enough. As Mia began walking, she glanced to the left and saw the officer posted by the staircase moving toward the emergency exit at the end of the corridor. She followed him, pushed open the door to the stairs, and disappeared.

She reached the fourth floor out of breath. Holding her shoes in her hand, she raced down the empty corridor and slipped into the room. Theo was still lying naked on the bed waiting for her with the radio switched on. The strident wails of sirens filled the room.

“I knew you'd be back.”

THE PLANE

Boreal Winter

2006

J
ulia rushes outside. She wants to call for help, to run as fast as she can. She turns back in a panic, takes the stairs two at a time, hunts for her car keys in her handbag, and tears back downstairs.

The movers' truck is blocking the driveway. She bears down on the driver. The guys in the back heaving furniture and cardboard boxes grumble, but the driver obeys.

Julia is at the steering wheel. She calls Theo from her cell phone while the truck is backing out: once, twice, twenty times. He has switched off his phone.

She sends him a text message. Three words: “Danger. Death. Leave.”

If there's no traffic and she drives flat-out, she can get to
the hotel in twenty minutes. She accelerates, heading for the Connecticut Turnpike. It'll be too late. She has to make it there in fifteen minutes. She'll have to run all the red lights. Too bad!

She presses the hands-free button on the steering wheel to call Diane. No answer.

“This is insane!” Julia shouts, banging the steering wheel.

She gets on the ramp and steps hard on the gas. The other cars are traveling at moderate speed. The left lane is empty; without hesitation, she pulls into the fast lane. Julia has never driven so fast in her entire life. Her phone starts ringing. She sees Diane's number flash on the screen. She pushes the button on the steering wheel to answer.

“Diane, Theo's in danger. I can't reach him. His phone is off. He's at one of the hotels in Fairfield. I can't remember the exact name!”

“Is this a fit of jealousy by any chance, darling?” Diane answers, laughing.

“I'm talking about the plane, Diane! We have to get him out of there!”

“Calm down, Julia. I can't understand a word you're saying. What are you talking about?”

“The plane, Diane! The plane's going to crash. We have to find the phone number of the hotel!”

“Oh, I see! The plane that's making a crash landing. I've just been following it on the radio. It's okay, darling. It's going to land on a runway in Stratford. You don't have to worry.”

“Diane!” Julia screamed. “Listen to me, please! I saved your life; the least you can do is believe me! You have to warn the hotel: the plane is going to crash into it. Do you understand?”

“Okay, okay, don't freak out. I've got you. I'll call. Don't panic, honey.”

“Of course I'm panicking! Hurry, please.”

She has just passed Bridgeport's red-and-white-striped smokestack. Julia hangs up.
I'm fifteen minutes away
.
No, ten!
She floors the gas pedal. A warning sign over the highway announces a mandatory detour. Julia is forced to slow down. The highway is closed at exit 23. A police officer is directing traffic.

“We have an aircraft in distress over the area,” he explains to the drivers who lower their windows as they pass him. “Keep going, keep going!”

All the surrounding streets have been closed off. A security cordon is blocking access to the neighborhood.
I've got to make them understand.
Julia talks to a policeman, but she manages only to annoy him.

“Get out of here, or I'll have to arrest you!” he bellows.

I absolutely have to get through
. She gets back in the car and drives slowly along the barricade but finds no way in. On the radio a young reporter is announcing that the plane has suddenly dropped in altitude.

Julia lowers the windows and pokes her head out. She can't see the plane or hear its engines. It must be farther away than she thought; she might still have a chance. She parks the car in the residential area and walks with her hands in her pockets
toward a house just outside the police cordon. The officers are busy informing the residents. They all have their backs turned to her. Julia slips between two houses, crosses a garden, skirts the garages, and enters the neighboring garden.

She's done it. She's inside the cordoned-off area. Julia starts running as fast as she can, heading straight ahead. She jumps over hedges, crosses streets, squeezes through bushes. The neighborhood is deserted. In the distance she can see a mall and the sign of a Stop & Shop. The railroad tracks can't be far. Julia keeps running.

The bicycle in front of the house with the pretty white picket fence seems to be calling out to her. Julia jumps on it and pedals away, letting her instinct guide her through the maze of streets.
Please let me get there in time; please don't let the police stop me.

Before crossing a large avenue, Julia brakes abruptly and straddles the bicycle on the sidewalk. She takes out her phone and checks her messages. Theo hasn't replied. She copies the text message and sends it to the various e-mail addresses Theo uses.

She starts cycling again, back hunched, pedaling even faster. The roar of jet engines suddenly fills the air. She looks up. The plane is there, hovering in front of her, flying ever closer to the ground. It looks poised, unshakable. Julia recognizes the hotel building to the right. The plane is losing altitude too quickly. It won't manage to avoid it. Julia is paralyzed
with fear. Her telephone rings once, twice, thrice, then goes silent.

“Theo!” Julia screams at the moment of impact.

—

The force of the explosion throws her to the ground. Thick black smoke begins coiling up into the sky. Julia teeters away from the bicycle, stunned. She's sifting through images of Theo in her memory. She sees him now, exactly as he was when they first met at Anna's birthday party. There he is again, a broken man standing on her doorstep when they met in New York.

Before her the flames, the spirals of black smoke, the police, the firemen. There are ambulances too. Julia keeps walking forward. The carcass of the plane is smoking, its nose crushed against the concrete and the steel bars. She reaches the parking lot of the hotel without anyone paying attention to her.

Theo's car is there, intact.

Julia feels her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulls it out mechanically. There's a message from Theo in her in-box. She looks around, mad with hope. She reads it: “Thank you, my love.”

Julia looks anxiously at the picture he has attached. It is a wedding photograph. She doesn't recognize any of the people. She enlarges the image impatiently and looks more closely. A
fat, almost obese man reminds her vaguely of someone. She sifts intently through her memory. The image comes back to her in a second, neatly. She looks away, astounded. Mama Fina's newspaper clipping! Julia collapses to the ground in tears. El Diablo! Standing next to him, wearing a lace wedding dress, she recognizes Mia Moon.

—

Such a beautiful day. The leaves on the hundred-year-old trees along the avenue flutter, playful, trying to catch the wind. Julia looks out the window. A smooth blue sky. The mauve line between the sky and the sea. Another beautiful day. Another day without him.

Julia goes to sit on the bed. A plane flies over the house. Strangely, she doesn't think about the accident. Instead she is brought back to their last night together, when, soothed by the engine hum of another plane, she prayed to remain by his side forever.

She moves to the mirror on the landing, fixes her hat with its black veil, and slowly goes downstairs. Ulysses is standing next to the front door waiting for her.
What a handsome man he is
. He holds his hand out to her as she comes down the last few steps. When she is close enough, he strokes her cheek.

“Sweet Mom.”

“Let's go, my angel. I'm anxious to get there.”

Ulysses silently follows each of her movements. He hastens to open the door for her. Julia walks down the front steps and
lingers for a few moments to ruffle the fluffy blue blossoms of the hydrangeas.

“It's that easy. Look.”

She does it again, as if she were caressing a child's head.

“There's no secret to it. Love, Ulysses: nothing but love.”

Ulysses continues to watch her in silence. Ever since he's been back, he finds there is something endlessly moving about his mother.

“Do you want me to drive, Mom?”

“No. I know the route. And I want to stop thinking. Driving will force me to focus on the road.”

“Mom . . . Are you sure you're okay?”

She raises herself on tiptoe and kisses his cheek.

“I'll feel much better afterward.”

Julia rummages in her handbag, checks to make sure she has her phone and black gloves, takes out her sunglasses, and climbs into the car holding a tube of lipstick.

As she is touching up her makeup in the rearview mirror, Ulysses sees the neighbor pulling open her curtains to watch them. The door opens and the elderly lady comes hastily forward, a bouquet of mauve flowers in one hand. Julia lowers her window.

“That's so kind. Thank you. I'm very touched.”

The old lady hands the bouquet to Ulysses. Her blue eyes are filled with tears.

“I can't believe she is the one offering me her condolences,” Julia says, reversing out of the driveway.

She emerges from the tangle of streets around the house, crosses the large avenue running through the town, and speeds onto the highway entrance ramp.

“Is it far?” Ulysses asks.

“Half an hour or so. It's a pretty little cemetery in Westport. Not far from their office, with old trees and plenty of birds. I went to visit it with Kwan.”

“Kwan?”

“Yes, Kwan. Mia's husband.”

She turns on the radio. Theo's CD automatically starts playing. Julia leans over the steering wheel and hurriedly switches it off.

“It's so stupid,” she says, drying her tears.

She checks her side mirror to make sure the route is clear and adds, having calmed down, “At least this way I'll really look like a widow.”

Ulysses takes her hand.

“Oh, Mom.”

They leave the Bridgeport factory smokestack with its wisp of white smoke behind and, shortly afterward, pass the small town of Fairfield. From the highway they can see that the partially destroyed hotel is already rising from its ashes. A team of workers in high-visibility jackets have taken over the site with construction vehicles and dump trucks. Ulysses moves forward in his seat and stares at the place.

“I'm so glad you're with me. I wouldn't have wanted to be alone . . . in front of all those people. The coworkers . . .”

“Olivier called me. . . .”

Ulysses observes her profile: the head held high, the softened features.

“You look so young, Mom!”

“You're just saying that to flatter me.”

“No. I'm saying it because I think Theo is stupid.”

“Don't ever say that, Ulysses. No one can judge.”

“He was incapable of loving.”

“Hate and love are the two sides of the same coin, Ulysses.”

The road turns seaward and away again to plunge through a forest of majestic trees. Everything seems immense: the asphalt spooling into the horizon, the infinite sky full of motionless clouds, all suspended in the swath of blue.

“Mama Fina used to say the dead see through their loved ones' eyes.”

“Mom, you don't really believe that!”

Her eyes glow like burning coals.

“Oh, yes, darling, I believe it more than ever!”

Embarrassed, Ulysses avoids her gaze as the car forks right. They drive up a small road skirting some beeches, a scattering of white houses visible through the curtain of trees. Closer to the road, they pass a kneeling woman placing flowers on a tombstone in the middle of a garden of maple and willow trees.

“Is this it?”

“No. That was the colonial cemetery. Ours is a little farther on. See how beautiful the light is, filtering through the trees.”

Ulysses does his best to take an interest in the landscape.
But something he can't quite put his finger on is making him feel uneasy.

“Who's going to be here, Mom?”

“Not many people, I suppose. A few colleagues from the office, Mia's family, and the two of us.”

But when Julia drives up the path leading to the cemetery gates, Ulysses realizes it's not going to be an intimate funeral. A dozen black limousines are jammed into an overflowing parking lot. Julia maneuvers onto the shoulder near the main entrance and leaves the keys in the ignition. She throws a quick glance around her. A few people dressed in black are starting to make their way slowly up the path. Behind them, next to the entrance, a group of men wearing black sunglasses are leaning against the trunks of some tall evergreens, smoking.

“I have to speak to them for a minute. Would you wait for me here, darling?”

Without giving Ulysses time to answer, Julia hastens toward the men. Ulysses sees them throw away their cigarettes as she approaches and formally shake her hand. Julia talks to them for a while, turning frequently to glance at Ulysses, takes her cell phone from her bag, and holds it out to show them the screen.