The Casanova Embrace (32 page)

"You had no right," Frederika repeated. Despite
her revulsion, she felt the beginnings of being drawn toward the woman. It is
not possible, she told herself again, her anger mounting to a new threshold,
then sputtering. She felt a wave of nausea roll over her. Then her body began
to shake with chills. She huddled in the blanket.

"I think he has betrayed us both," the tall woman
said. Was she gaining an advantage over her? He was using her, Frederika
insisted to herself. It could not be the same with her. It could not be.

"You're a goddamned liar!" Frederika shouted.

"A liar?"

"He used you for your money."

"And you," the woman shot back. "What did he
use you for?"

"I would die for him," Frederika said, her voice
hollow. She heard it echo in the room. "I killed for him," she said
quietly, her anger spending rapidly as she tasted the dregs of defeat.

"You see. We are both his victims."

"Victims?"

"What else would you call it?"

"I would do it again," Frederika hissed.
"How can you know what is between us?" She pounded a fist suddenly
into her thigh. "Can't you understand that all you were was a casual fuck?
What did it matter to him?"

The tall woman remained calm, in control now, watching her
coolly. It was Frederika who was faltering and disoriented.

"At least I had no illusions," the woman said
proudly. "He moved me. Like I have never been moved before. That was all
that mattered."

"Then why did you want more?"

"It was a fatal error," the tall woman agreed.
"I know that now. But it is too late. I should have been satisfied with my
share and shut away any other possibilities."

"You screwed up everything," Frederika said. She
wondered where Eddie had gone, could understand his agitation now.

"He said he would be back," Frederika said. She
felt the chill of evaporating tears on her cheek. They must have come without
her knowing, tears of pain. "And he knew you were watching him."

"He knew?"

"I told him. I have been observing you for days. I
thought you were"--she swallowed deeply--"the enemy. An agent."

"Believe me. I would rather I was as well." The
woman sat down again. "I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

"Who are you?" Frederika asked. The tall woman
smiled thinly, but the warmth was visible.

"I am Penny McCarthy." She shrugged.
"Anne."

"Anne?"

"He calls me Anne. It is my middle name."

"I'm Frederika Millspaugh." The tears came now,
cascading without shame. "Pleased to meet you," she said. She had
wanted to be sarcastic, but it had not come out that way. Slivers of light came
through the blinds now. The sun was rising. It would be a bright day.

They sat in silence for a long time. Automobiles honked as
the traffic rolled past, the beginning of the rush hour. An occasional shout
pierced the din, a child's voice.

"So what happens now?" Frederika asked. The onset
of morning seemed to symbolize a change in her entire world. It will never be
the same again, she thought.

"I've been thinking about that myself." The light
removed the shadows from the woman's face, except for the deep blue hollows
below her eyes. In the brighter light the woman's eyes were green, incredibly
green. Frederika found herself searching for positive qualities in the woman,
justification.

"I think he's gone to find you," Frederika said,
remembering. "He will want to be certain."

"I saw him leave. But I'm sure he didn't see me."

"What happens when he discovers you're not where
you're supposed to be?"

"I have no idea."

The urge for questioning seemed odd. But Frederika did not
want the woman to leave. There was more to know, more information required, if
she was to survive this. What she really wanted to ask, she dared not. Could
she possibly ask another woman how she felt, what she felt? It would be
unbearable.

"So he lived with you," Frederika said,
deliberately oblique, hoping to catch the woman off-guard.

"No."

"No?"

The woman looked around the room. Compulsively, she rose
and opened a closet door. We are two jungle cats, circling each other, Frederika
thought, the image embarrassing in its accuracy. Had Eddie reduced them to
that?

"See. He didn't live with me either."

"All right, then. Where did he live? Where did he
go?"

The knowledge came to them both at the same time, Frederika
was sure. There was a sisterhood between them, born of shared humiliation.

"I don't know," she said.

"Is it possible there are others?" Anne asked.
The inquiry seemed childlike, naive.

Frederika blanched, since she, too, had been thinking the
same thought.

"He wasn't, after all, just hatched from an egg, full
grown." She did not try to hide her sarcasm, but it was directed at
herself as well.

"Others?" she asked.

"It is not impossible."

She looked at the woman, sure now of the truth, aware of
the image that must be in both their minds, the slender body, the power of its
sexuality, the electricity of what it could convey.

"No," Frederika said. "It is not
impossible." The words were emphatic but without conviction. Despite her
reluctance, there was a relationship growing between her and this woman.
"You spoiled the whole damned thing," she said quietly to the tall
woman, who nodded.

"I know."

"And now?"

"I wish it were possible to begin again at square
one."

"And where is that?"

"I wish I knew," the tall woman replied.

"It's the place we were before you tried to get more
than you were entitled to." Would she really settle for that? Frederika
thought. She had blotted out all other possibilities in Eddie's life. Could she
abide his consorting with the two of them?

"I could never adjust to it," she decided, the
thought articulate. She could sense that the tall woman had understood.
"Can you understand that..." She paused. "...Anne?" Was she
being patronizing? Or taking advantage of Anne's age. There was more than
twenty years between them. She was, obviously, even older than Eddie. At that
age, she thought, pride might be thwarted. One could accept demeaning.

"Nor me," Anne said. Frederika was not really
surprised at her reaction. This woman was not going to accept half a loaf. Nor she.
Perhaps it would be better to ignore the possibilities of choice at this point.
It was, after all, Eddie's choice. But would they submit to that kind of slave
auction? I would, Frederika thought. It would be bearable if I could have him
forever. But nothing is forever, she reasoned, confused now by the sudden
onslaught of possibilities.

"Do you really think there are others?" Frederika
asked. "Like us?" She could suspect the answer to that question.

"I have no doubt about it," Anne said. "Not
now."

"But how can we be sure?"

"We'll find out."

Frederika felt in league with the woman now,
conspiratorial. Despite her resistance, they were moving toward sisterhood, a
thought which she detested. How can I be allied with that woman? I will share
nothing with her, she thought. She has no right to know what went on between
Eddie and me. What is going on?

"We can at least check his whereabouts, between
us," Frederika said.

"Yes, that. And we can do what I've done."

"Follow him?"

"Yes."

"Or we could confront him," Frederika said. But,
considering the circumstances, we could hardly expect his cooperation, she
thought. She could see that Anne had also rejected the idea.

"Between us. If we are clever. If we are careful ...
we could track him," Anne said.

Frederika felt squeamish. It seemed a violation of Eddie's
privacy. But he has violated us, she thought, anger rising again, this time
directed at Eddie. He has betrayed us both. The bastard! So she could also hate
him.

"Yes," she said, her sense of purpose tangible
now. "I can do that." Yet her resolve was not quite unencumbered.
"And what happens when we do find out ... discover?"

Anne shrugged, expelling a sigh. "I don't know,"
she said quietly. "It may not seem as important then as it does now."

They exchanged telephone numbers. When Frederika handed
hers to Anne, for a brief millisecond, their eyes met. Anne's green eyes seemed
like two blazing searchlights probing her. Could it have been the same,
Frederika wondered, the intensity, the joy, the pleasure, the sense of
wholeness.

Anne stood at the door, hesitating. Then she turned.
"Has he ever mentioned Miranda?" she asked.

Frederika thought, searching her mind.

"No." She waited for a response.

"It was said suddenly. I don't think he
realized."

"Another woman? Like us?"

"Another woman yes," Anne said quietly. "But
not like us. NO! Not like us." She turned again and let herself out.

Frederika lay in her bed for hours after Anne had left,
wallowing in a bottomless void. For years she had felt nothing, was certain
that she had died, and then with Eddie she had felt everything. Was she on the
verge of death again? The brightness was fading in the room when the
telephone's ring shocked her into full awareness. Reaching for it, she wondered
if it might be Eddie and she began to compose herself. She had assumed there
had been a silent understanding between them. Say nothing. Don't let on.

"He was here." It was Anne's voice. Frederika
felt her own resentment. Had they made love? The image was too unbearable to
continue and it broke in her mind into a thousand pieces.

"Are you there?" Anne asked, her voice unhurried.
Frederika pictured the tall woman in the trench coat, hovering over her.

"Yes."

"I admitted that I followed him. He questioned me. I
did not tell him that we have met, nor does he suspect that I know. He is
assuming that I think he lives there."

"And he said nothing to clear up the matter?"

"No."

"Did he wonder where you've been?"

"I told him I walked the streets."

"Did he believe that?"

"I don't know. But he is suspicious." She paused.
"He made me promise that I would not try to find out more about him. Not
now."

"And then?"

"I doubt if any of my explanations satisfied him. I
think he will now be more cautious than ever. More secretive." Is she
confiding everything, Frederika wondered.

"He was with you all day?" Frederika asked
cautiously. The pause that followed telescoped the answer.

"Yes."

What was it like, she wanted to ask.

"I wish I could say I was revolted," Anne
whispered finally.

"Nothing was changed?"

From my bed to hers, Frederika thought, her heart pounding,
punishing herself with the cutting edge of her own humiliation. Was my body
smell still lingering on his skin? Were my juices still visible, tastable? The
idea of it was a mortification. We must punish him for this, she vowed,
touching the nub of a beginning terror. Her question to Anne remained
unanswered. So there is still a delicacy between us, she thought, gathering her
malice.

"And where is he now?"

"There is no way of knowing. I thought I might follow
him, but he is too suspicious now, very guarded. It would not be easy."
There was a pause again. "When do you expect him to come to you?"

"Is there ever a set time?"

"Will you call me when you know?"

"Of course." Why should she be spared the pain of
it. "And I plan to follow him. I plan to find out. There is no stopping
now, Anne. You realize that."

"Yes."

Frederika lowered the phone, heard Anne's breathing,
perhaps a sigh, then depressed the connection. Immediately she had the urge to
call her back, to find out more about what had happened between them, then
fought back the temptation. She dressed quickly and went to work, but her mind
was on the street outside and she peered through the windows, searching the
passing faces. She wanted, needed, even a brief moment's preparation before any
confrontation. That night she worked particularly hard, to drown her mind and
body with fatigue.

"You're really pushing tonight, kid," Marcia
said.

"I need the money," she snapped.

For the next two days and nights, she reacted like a
sleepwalker, passing through her life half-conscious. Only the sound of the
telephone restored her alertness.

"Did he call? Have you seen him?" It was Anne's
voice. She called at least three times every day.

"No." A pause. "And you?"

"No."

"Do you think he suspects?"

"I think he is suspicious, surely. But he cannot know
the truth."

"Not unless you told him."

"What purpose would there be in that?"

"I'm not sure."

"You must be more trusting."

"I'm trying. Believe me, Anne, I'm trying."

There seemed, Frederika thought, an edge of hysteria to
Anne's voice as the calls persisted.

"He didn't call? You didn't see him?"

"No." Frederika was firm.

"How can I be sure?"

"You can't." Frederika felt her own nastiness.
"And how can I be sure you haven't?"

"It's maddening."

"How do you think I feel?"

"Please forgive me."

Frederika didn't answer. By the end of the third day, she
was frantic and let the phone ring endlessly. Finally she picked it up. Before
she could respond, she heard Eddie's voice.

"Will you be there?"

"Of course." She had planned to go to work.
Instantly, her plans changed.

"I will be there shortly."

Thankfully, he arrived within a half hour. She was
beginning to develop a kind of psychic palpitation as her mind groped through a
series of speculations. How would she observe him? Before, her reactions had
been natural, inevitable, like the force of gravity. Could she dissimulate now?
Could she lie? Was it possible? It was like contemplating death. Then his key
was in the door. He stepped into the apartment and, as he did so, her mind went
blank and only the primitive force remained. She curled about him, swallowing
him, it seemed, as she had once seen a python swallow a pig in an old movie. If
he was startled by her reaction, he said nothing, letting her envelop him as if
it were his due tribute.