The Marriage Plot (54 page)

“This is our first marital mishap,” Leonard said softly, in the dark. “We’re handling it. We’re dealing with it.”

It wasn’t until they left Paris that anything seemed the matter. From the Gare de Lyon they took an overnight train to Marseille, occupying a romantic sleeper cabin that made romance impossible. With its disorder, sense of danger, and mixed population, Marseille seemed like an American city, or merely less French. A Mediterranean-Arabic atmosphere prevailed; the air smelled of fish, motor oil, and verbena. Women in head-scarves called to broods of brown-skinned children. At a zinc bar on their first night, sometime past two a.m., Leonard became instant friends with a group of Moroccans in soccer jerseys and flea market jeans. Madeleine was exhausted; she wanted to go back to the hotel, but Leonard insisted that they had to have
café cognac
. He’d been picking up words along the way, deploying them every so often as though this meant that he actually spoke French. When he learned a slang term (the word
branché
, for instance, when applied to persons, meant that they were “plugged in”), Leonard told it to Madeleine as if
he
were the fluent speaker. He corrected her pronunciation. At first, she thought he must be joking, but this didn’t seem to be the case.

From Marseille they traveled east along the coast. When a dining-car waiter came to take their order, Leonard insisted on ordering in French. He got the words out, but his pronunciation was atrocious. Madeleine repeated Leonard’s request. When she finished, Leonard was glaring at her.

“What?”

“Why did you order for me?”

“Because the waiter didn’t understand you.”

“He understood me fine,” Leonard insisted.

It was evening by the time they reached Nice. After checking into their hotel, they went out to a small restaurant down the street. Throughout dinner, Leonard was conscientiously distant. He drank a lot of house wine. His eyes glittered whenever the young waitress came over to their table. For nearly the entire meal Madeleine and Leonard sat without speaking, like a couple married for twenty years. Returning to their hotel, Madeleine used the bad-smelling communal WC. While she was peeing, she read the sign in French that cautioned against throwing paper of any kind into the toilet. Turning her head, she located the source of the stench: the wastebasket was overflowing with soiled toilet paper.

Gagging, she fled back to their room. “Oh my God!” she said. “That bathroom is so gross!”

“You’re just a princess.”

“Go in there! You’ll see.”

Leonard calmly took his toothbrush into the WC and returned, unruffled.

“We have to change hotels,” Madeleine said.

Leonard smirked. Glassy-eyed, he said in a prim voice, “The princess from Prettybrook is appalled!”

As soon as they went to bed, Leonard grabbed her by the hips and turned her onto her stomach. She knew that she shouldn’t let Leonard have sex with her after the way he’d treated her all evening. At the same time, she felt so sad and unwanted that it came as a huge relief to be touched. She was making some awful pact, one that might have consequences for her entire married life. But she couldn’t say no. She let Leonard turn her over and take her, not lovingly, from behind. She wasn’t ready and it hurt at first. Leonard paid no attention, blindly thrusting. She could have been anyone. When it was over Madeleine began to cry, at first quietly, then less quietly. She wanted Leonard to hear. But he was asleep, or pretended to be.

When she woke up the next morning, Leonard wasn’t in the room. Madeleine wanted to call her mother, but it was the middle of the night on the East Coast. And it was dangerous to go on record about Leonard’s behavior. She would never be able to take it back. Instead, she got up and searched his toiletry case for his pill bottles. One was half empty. Leonard had refilled the other one before the wedding, so that he wouldn’t run out while they were in Europe.

Reassured that he was taking his medicine, Madeleine sat on the edge of the bed and tried to figure out how to handle the situation.

The door opened and Leonard burst in. He was beaming, acting as if nothing had happened.

“I just found us a new hotel,” he said. “Much nicer. You’ll like it.”

The temptation to ignore the previous night was great. But Madeleine didn’t want to set a bad precedent. The weight of marriage pressed down on her for the first time. She couldn’t just throw a book at Leonard and leave, as she’d done in the past.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“O.K.,” Leonard said. “How about over breakfast?”

“No. Now.”

“O.K.,” he said again, somewhat softer. He looked around the room for a place to sit, but there was none, so he remained standing.

“You were so mean to me yesterday,” Madeleine said. “First you got mad when I ordered for you. Then you acted like I wasn’t even there at dinner. You kept flirting with the waitress—”

“I wasn’t flirting with the waitress.”

“Yes, you were! You were flirting with her. And then, we came back here and you—you—you just used me like I was a piece of meat!” Saying this made her burst into tears again. Her voice had gone all squeaky and girly in a way she hated but couldn’t help. “You acted like you were … with that waitress!”

“I don’t want to be with the waitress, Madeleine. I want to be with you. I love you. I love you so much.”

These were exactly the words Madeleine wanted to hear. Her intelligence told her to distrust them, but another, weaker part of her responded with happiness.

“You can never treat me that way again,” she said, still hiccuping with sobs.

“I won’t. I never will.”

“If you ever do, that’s the end.”

He put his arms around her, pressing his face into her hair. “It’s never going to happen again,” he whispered. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

They went to a café for breakfast. Leonard was on his best behavior, pulling out her chair, buying her a
Paris Match
from the newsstand, offering her a brioche from the basket.

The next two days went well. The weather in Nice was cloudy, the beaches full of pebbles. Hoping to take full advantage of her prewedding diet, Madeleine had brought along a two-piece swimsuit, modest by the standards of the Côte d’Azur but daring for her. But it was a little too cold to swim. They used the lounge chairs reserved for them by their hotel only once, for a couple of hours, before rain clouds chased them back inside.

Leonard remained attentive, and sweet, and Madeleine hoped that their fighting was over.

The plan was to spend their last two days in Monaco, before taking the train back to Paris for their return flight. On a cloudless late afternoon, the first truly warm, sunny day of their trip, they boarded the train for the twenty-minute ride. One minute they were passing cypresses and glittering coves, the next they were arriving in the overbuilt, overpriced precincts of Monte Carlo.

A Mercedes taxi took them up a corniche to their hotel high above the town and harbor.

The front desk clerk, who wore an ascot, said they were lucky to have come when they did. The Grand Prix was starting the next week and the hotel was completely booked. Now, however, it was relatively peaceful, perfect for a couple on their honeymoon.

“Is Grace Kelly around?” Leonard asked, out of the blue.

Madeleine turned to look at him. He had a big smile, his eyes glassy again.

“The princess passed away last year, monsieur,” the desk clerk replied.

“I forgot about that,” Leonard said. “My sincere condolences to you and your countrymen.”

“Thank you, monsieur.”

“This isn’t a real country, though, right?”

“Excuse me, monsieur?”

“It’s not a kingdom. It’s just a principality.”

“We are an independent nation, monsieur,” the clerk said, stiffening.

“Because I was wondering how much Grace Kelly knew about Monaco when she married Prince Rainier. I mean, she probably figured he was the ruler of a real country.”

The clerk’s expression was now impassive. He produced their room key. “Madame, monsieur, I hope you enjoy your stay.”

As soon as they were in the elevator, Madeleine said, “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?”

“That was so rude!”

“I was just playing with him,” Leonard said with his antic smile. “Have you ever seen the movies of Grace Kelly’s wedding? Prince Rainier’s in a military uniform, like he has some great realm to defend. Then you get here and you realize the whole country could fit inside the Superdome. It’s a stage set. No wonder he married an actress.”

“That was so embarrassing!”

“You know what else is a joke?” Leonard continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. “The way they call themselves Monegasques. They had to come up with a special, slightly longer name for themselves because their actual country’s so dinky.”

Leonard charged into their room, tossing his suitcase on the bed. He went out onto the balcony but in a few seconds came back in. “You want some champagne?” he said.

“No,” Madeleine answered.

He went to the phone and dialed room service. He was operating just fine. The qualities he was displaying—extroversion, vitality, boldness—were the qualities that had attracted Madeleine to him in the first place. Only now they were amplified, like a stereo with the volume turned up so loud that the sound distorted.

When the champagne arrived, Leonard told the waiter to set it on the balcony.

Madeleine walked out to talk to him.

“Since when do you like champagne?” she asked.

“Since I got to Monte Carlo.” Leonard raised his hand and pointed. “See that building? I think that’s the casino. I can’t remember what Bond film it’s in. Maybe we should go check it out after dinner.”

“Leonard?” Madeleine said in a soft voice. “Sweetie? If I ask you something, promise you won’t get mad?”

“What?” he said, already sounding irritated.

“Are you feeling O.K.?”

“I’m dandy.”

“Are you taking your pills?”

“Yes, I’m taking my pills. In fact”—he went back inside to get his lithium from his suitcase, then returned—“it’s time for my medicine right now.” Popping a pill into his mouth, he tossed it back with more champagne. “See? I’m fine and dandy.”

“That’s not even something you say. ‘Fine and dandy.’”

“Apparently, I do say it.” He laughed at this.

“Maybe you should call your doctor. Just to check in.”

“Who? Perlmann?” Leonard scoffed. “He should call
me
. I could school that guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Leonard said, gazing down at the distant yacht-filled harbor. “Just that I’m making some discoveries a guy like Perlmann could never even
conceive
of making.”

The evening got worse from there. After finishing the bottle of champagne mostly by himself, Leonard insisted on ordering another. When Madeleine refused to let him, he got angry and went down to the bar. He began buying drinks for the other patrons, a group of Swiss bankers and their girlfriends. When Madeleine went to find him an hour later, Leonard acted overjoyed to see her. He hugged and kissed her, over doing it.

“This is my beautiful bride,” he said. He introduced the bankers. “This is Till and Heinrich. And these girls’ names I forget, but I’ll never forget their pretty faces. Till and Heinrich know a great restaurant they’ll take us to. It’s the best in town, right, Till?”

“It’s very good,” the Swiss said. “A local secret.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to go to a place with any American tourists in it, you know what I mean? Or maybe we should go straight to the casino. Can you eat at the casino?” It was difficult to tell if the Europeans saw how strange he was acting or if they took his excessive familiarity as an American trait. They seemed amused by Leonard.

It was then that Madeleine did something she regretted. Rather than hauling Leonard off to see a doctor (though she had no precise idea how to do this), she went back upstairs to the room. Getting Leonard’s pills from where he’d left them, she had the hotel operator place a long-distance call to Dr. Perlmann’s number, which was written on the prescription label. Perlmann wasn’t in his office, but after Madeleine said it was an emergency, the secretary took the number of Madeleine’s hotel and promised that Dr. Perlmann would call her right back.

After fifteen minutes passed with no response, Madeleine went back down to the bar, but Leonard and the Swiss bankers were no longer there. She checked the hotel restaurant and the patio but found no sign of them. With growing alarm, she returned to the room to find that Leonard had been there while she was out. His suitcase was open and clothes were flung on the floor. There was no note from him. At that moment the phone rang. It was Perlmann.

Madeleine told Perlmann everything that had happened in a long rush of words.

“O.K., I need you to calm down,” Perlmann said. “Can you do that for me? I’m hearing a lot of anxiety in your voice. I can help you, but you need to calm down, O.K.?”

Madeleine gathered herself. “O.K.,” she said.

“Now, do you know where Leonard might be going?”

She thought for a moment. “The casino. He said he wanted to go gambling.”

“Listen to me,” Perlmann said, his voice steady. “What you need to do is get Leonard to the nearest hospital. He needs to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. Right away. That’s the first thing. They’ll know how to take care of him at the hospital. Once you get him there, give them my number.”

“What if he won’t go to the hospital?”

“You need to get him there,” Perlmann said.

The taxi driver sped down the corniche with his brights on. The road twisted back and forth. Sometimes the sea was in front of them, black and empty, and it seemed as if they might plunge over the cliff, but then the car swerved, and the lights of the city appeared, ever closer. Madeleine wondered if she should go to the police. She tried to think of how to say “manic-depressive” in French. The only word that came to mind,
maniaque
, sounded too severe.

The taxi entered the densely populated area around the harbor. The traffic grew heavier as they neared the casino. Surrounded by formal gardens and lighted fountains, the Casino de Monte-Carlo was a Beaux Arts construction, with fanciful wedding-cake towers and a domed copper roof. Lamborghinis and Ferraris were parked six deep outside, the lights of the marquee reflecting off their hoods. Madeleine had to show her passport for admission, citizens of Monaco being prohibited by law from entering the casino. She bought a ticket for the main gaming room and made her way inside.