The Cousins (11 page)

12

I
N THE SPRING
, to Olivia’s amazement, Roger agreed to go with her to Jenny and Paul’s son Sam’s bar mitzvah. Perhaps it was because Cambridge was not that far away; the shuttle to Boston was less than an hour, and even with the long ride to and from both airports, it could almost be considered commuting. It was a far cry from the trips to California he had declined. She wondered if he finally felt it was appropriate to show some kind of family solidarity, not only with her but with her kin. Whatever his motivation, she was delighted to have him with her.

Cambridge was old and historic and pretty. Houses had gardens in front of them, there were cobblestoned streets, and little patches of ice still lurked in the grass, reminding her that they had had a harder winter than the New Yorkers. The cab passed Harvard, ringed with old redbrick buildings, and Harvard Square, filled with college students rushing around. Paul taught there, and Olivia wondered what it must be like to spend your life in a place where fresh young faces came and went, on their way to their unknown future lives, while you just stayed there, getting older.

There were some very good hotels to choose from in the area, but Jenny had put the family into a no-frills hotel none of them had heard of, because she wanted to save them money. The lobby was dark, with a big aquarium for decoration, and even the fish looked dispirited. The halls smelled like an omelette, which was either age or the shampoo that had been used to clean the carpet. The rooms had thin towels and tiny pieces of deodorant soap in the bathrooms. Olivia and Roger’s room was dark too, and had no view.

They had passed some of the other cousins in the lobby, checking in or going upstairs, and none of them had been pleased.

“Motel Six,” Nick said, and laughed. He was there with his wife, Lynne, and their young daughter, Amber. “Don’t you miss the Biltmore in Santa Barbara?”

They were a handsome family; Nick the successful New York ad man, Lynne the vivacious beauty, Amber in her crinolines and little ruffled socks.

“Amber’s never been in a hotel like this before,” Lynne said. “When we got to the room she said, ‘Where’s the fruit? Where are the flowers?’” She chuckled proudly at her daughter’s consternation. “She’s used to the Four Seasons. ‘Where’s the fruit? Where are the flowers?’ ”

“It’s only for two nights,” Olivia said, feeling sorry for Jenny that her good intentions had been off the mark, and hoping Roger didn’t dislike it that much.

They unpacked in their ugly room. “The bed’s good,” Roger said.

“And the room is really clean,” Olivia said.

“I found a shower cap in the bathroom,” he said, “so we know it’s not Motel Six.”

“It’s fine. Don’t say anything to Jenny tomorrow. I know they’ll all complain and upset her.”

He ordered a bottle of inferior red wine from room service—their best—and put a porno movie on the hotel’s pay TV channel. “Let’s pretend we don’t know each other,” Roger said. “This is our first date.”

“Some first date,” Olivia said, laughing. “What am I, a hooker?”

“Call girl,” he said. “You’re much too classy to be a hooker.”

“Okay,” she said, but she couldn’t take it seriously. The movie was more silly than sexy, and the wine, she could tell right away, was going to give her a headache in the morning. They were lying in the big bed. She was wearing the white satin nightgown she wore when she traveled, and Roger was wearing the pajama bottoms he wore when he traveled. Impishly, she poured a little of the wine on Roger’s chest and licked it off. It tasted better on him than it did in the glass, but then she had always liked the way he tasted. He immediately undressed.

Ah, she thought hopefully, and undressed, too. As she was about to kiss him he pulled away and said, “Wait.” With an expression of very serious concentration he poured some wine on each of her breasts and began to lick it off. It felt quite pleasurable, but it was also peculiar. The wine was cold and wet, and even though Roger had been careful, it was running down her sides onto the sheets. They were going to have to sleep in that. She didn’t even want to imagine what previous guests had dumped on this same mattress.

“What did you think when you saw me?” he asked.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“When you came to the room,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Right. I’m the call girl. Well, I was thrilled. You’re just my type. You are, you know.”

He had dribbled the wine onto her belly now and was licking it off, and she wished he would stop. It tickled. Over his shoulder she could see the actors on the TV screen—three of them, a man and two women—doing things to each other and making appreciative noises. She was sure Jenny would never have dreamed that any of the relatives would be using their hotel room this way the night before the momentous rite of passage, and in spite of herself she started to laugh. Once she started to laugh she couldn’t stop.

There are moments, she thought, and there aren’t. This just isn’t one of them. There was nothing about the porno movie that could turn her on, and right now Roger didn’t either. She felt they were more like two kids playing than lovers. He was so sweet she wanted to hug him. He was her best friend, he was funny. . . .

He looked up and gave her a glance: not amused, as she was, but almost pensive. Oh, sweetheart, she thought, I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“For laughing.”

“Well,” Roger said cheerfully, “this room’s atmosphere isn’t conducive to passion.”

“I know. That was the point, wasn’t it?” Olivia said.

“Of course it was.” He clicked off the movie. “I’d better get a towel for these sheets.”

“Then we won’t have enough to take a shower tomorrow,” Olivia said. “Avoiding the wet spots will force us to cuddle.”

“I don’t need anything to force me to cuddle with you.”

“I love you,” Olivia said. She curled into Roger’s embrace.

“I love you, too,” he said. He turned off the light, and after a while they fell asleep.

In the morning they went downstairs to the hotel dining room to have breakfast, which was included in the price of the room. Nick, Lynne and Amber were already seated in a booth and Lynne waved them over.

“It’s so nice to see you,” Olivia said. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” Lynne said. “We all live in New York and we never see each other. We should make a date.”

“Absolutely,” Nick said.

The waitress came over and took their orders.

“Try the yogurt,” Nick said. “They can’t ruin it.”

“What do you think of the hotel?” Roger asked.

“We’re moving to the Ritz this afternoon.”

“Should we do that, Olivia?”

“Why bother?” Olivia said. “The Ritz is in Boston, it’s too far away. It’s not worth the trouble; we’re here.”

“Olivia has acute separation anxiety,” Roger said. “Even from bad hotels.” They all laughed.

“Who else is here?” Lynne asked, looking around.

“Taylor and Tim, Uncle Seymour, Aunt Iris, Aunt Myra, Kenny probably,” Olivia said. “I wonder if he’ll bring his girlfriend. Melissa and Bill are coming with their kids, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” Nick said. “And my father. He’s been staying with them.”

Anna the Perfect was not coming, because years before when she had given her son’s bar mitzvah she had not allowed Jenny to bring her children. At the time Jenny had only two, and she was insulted. Bar mitzvahs, she had told Olivia, were for family, and cousins should get to know each other. So Jenny and Paul had refused to go, and now, of course, Anna and her family had declined the invitation to come here. They were probably relieved. They, like Charlie the Perfect, had their own busy lives and hardly knew the other cousins; and their children (and Charlie’s grandchild) didn’t know them at all.

The waitress brought their food. “So how is life?” Nick asked.

“The clinic is thriving, we’re fine and we’re going to Paris for a long weekend this summer for Roger’s birthday,” Olivia said. “And your life?”

“Haven’t lost any clients,” Nick said. “The renovation on our new apartment is finally finished. And the next time you see our bank commercial, look carefully at the guy at the end of the line—it’s me. I put myself in for a kick.”

“You wanted to be an actor when you were a kid,” Olivia said.

“I don’t remember that.”

“I do.”

“And I’ve taken up helicopter skiing in Colorado,” Nick said. “It’s what I did last winter whenever I could get away.”

“What is it?”

“A helicopter takes you to the top of a mountain where it’s completely newly fallen snow. Four feet of virgin powder. No one else has been there. It’s so quiet and peaceful and beautiful you can’t imagine. Then you ski down.”

“I’d prefer he had a different hobby,” Lynne said mildly, smiling; but Olivia could see the apprehension hidden behind her smile.

“Oh, it’s completely safe,” Nick said. “I’m an expert skier. I’m even getting bored with the double black-diamond trails.”

“What are those?” Olivia asked.

“The steep ones that go straight down with the trees sticking out of the snow. You know, it’s just as dangerous on the bottom. The other skiers bump into you.”

“And on top,” Lynne said lightly, “there are only avalanches and holes you don’t know about.” She shrugged. “Nick doesn’t want to go with a partner.”

As if that would be any help in an avalanche, Olivia thought, but she didn’t say anything because little Amber was there, picking off tiny pieces of her cold croissant and carefully arranging them around the rim of her plate.

“A partner would destroy my solitude,” Nick said. “And besides, I don’t need one. I have a ski suit with two signaling devices sewn in that alert the helicopters in case anything happens to me. They’re on one arm and one leg, on opposite sides for whichever way you fall. Then the helicopters send in rescue parties.”

“Rescue parties?” Amber said, looking up and brightening. “What kind of parties are they?”

“Oh,” Nick said, improvising, “they make a bonfire and roast marshmallows. Balloons. The usual.”

“Amber, don’t you want some jam on that?” Lynne asked, changing the subject.

Rescue parties so they can find the body, Olivia thought. She glanced sympathetically at Lynne, who was fussing over her child’s breakfast. What is it about people, she wondered, that makes them think risking their lives is fun? If you’re poor, and just your daily subsistence is a frightening struggle, you dream of security, but as soon as the rent’s taken care of you start bungee-jumping.

Stan and Grady had been at one extreme, but the others, each in their own way, looked for excitement. There was careful Jenny, who loved the “ritual” of skiing, and then there was carefree Nick, who wanted to ski in uncharted places. Even Charlie the Perfect, who could fly First Class anywhere in the world, insisted on flying his own small plane around America every chance he got. He simply considered it a sport, like tennis, but more interesting. Once Olivia had asked Taylor—who had given up risks herself but understood and sympathized with the motivation of people who hadn’t—why people wanted to do dangerous things, and Taylor had looked at her as if she were simpleminded. “It makes life worth living,” Taylor had said.

After breakfast they all went back to their rooms to dress up. The temple was conveniently within walking distance of the hotel. She and Roger were half a block behind Nick and Lynne and Amber. Amber had on a perfectly coordinated Little Victorian Girl outfit, and was holding each of her parents’ hands, walking fast to keep up with these taller people, her gait cheerful, obviously looking forward to seeing the cousins of her generation and playing with them, and to going to this happy event.

Olivia imagined Lynne and Amber carefully shopping for that outfit, and thought how strange it was that after all these years she still could not identify with a mother as much as she could with the child. She had no interest in choosing children’s clothes. But even if she’d had to do it, most kids today were strong-willed enough to insist on having what they wanted anyway.

She thought of her own childhood trips to the store. They were battles she always lost. “You’re my little doll,” her mother had told her, even in high school, buying her a ruffly pink party dress when Olivia begged for black. “I always dressed you like a doll.” She remembered the mother-daughter dresses, which Olivia had hated, that Lila had insisted they wear.
I don’t want to be you
, she had thought. And she wasn’t, nor was she what Lila had wanted her to be. She was nobody’s doll. But what a struggle it had been. . . .

* * *

The temple was large and beautiful, with sunlight streaming in through stained glass. She and Roger sat behind a row of whispering, giggly girls who were probably Sam’s classmates. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said to Roger. He patted her hand.

Sam’s brother and sister, Max and Didi, were sitting in the front row with their parents, trying to look grown up, but his younger sisters, Kara and Belinda, lasted about five minutes into the service and then left to go to the room outside that was for the little kids. Olivia looked with admiration at the three girls’ intricate hairdos and thought about the chaos and excitement that must have reigned in their household that morning.

After the service, the rabbi, who seemed young and zippy, got up to say that he let each bar mitzvah choose his own part of the Bible to discuss. Sam came up, wearing a suit and tie. He was pale but self-possessed, thirteen, at that transition age when he looked a little like each of his parents and not really like what he would when he grew up, an unfinished puppy, today about to become a man in the eyes of his religion, if not anywhere else.

“I have chosen this section because I have three sisters and a brother,” Sam said, “and I know about sibling rivalry. Today I am going to discuss the story of Cain and Abel.”

Olivia grinned at Roger. “That’s my cousin,” she said proudly. Around her she could see the other relatives smiling too, at the outrageously forthright young man cheerfully discussing the betrayal and murder of one’s own family member.