Who else? Probably a salesman or someone soliciting for a charity, but could it be anyone else? The only man she had met lately was that grease-monkey at the gas station, and he didn’t even know who she was.
No, it couldn’t be him.
Each day the calls disturbed her just that much more. Not only was it a nuisance to keep missing a phonecall, but in addition the possibility of discovery became increasingly unattractive. Ronald’s case was occupying the bulk of his time and leaving him so tired each evening that he seemed almost at the point of collapse. Carla could see that he was completely wrapped up in it, seeing it as representing not only his fortune but the professional reputation he had established. If he could win the case, his career would be crowned with success. Carla knew how Ronald always drove himself harder than was necessary. He had inherited the bulk of his money, and he found it necessary to continually prove to himself that he could have done all right on his own. He felt guilty over having inherited the greater part of his wealth through no effort on his part, and by excelling in his profession he was able to assuage these guilt feelings.
But, as he said more than once, this case was one which could go either way. He maintained that his client was in the right; proving this, however, was another matter. And one breath of scandal could ruin everything completely.
Carla was constantly alert, trying to detect some sign that her love affair was noticed by somebody else. Try as she might she was unable to detect a clue. Lizzie seemed to be acting a bit differently lately, but this didn’t seem in any way connected. Ronald’s only change was the attitude of detachment which always went hand in hand with total absorption in his work.
The doorman at the Tiffany glanced knowingly at her each afternoon, but she discounted him quickly enough. She knew that she was by no means the first woman to visit Charles in his apartment, and she guessed that the gray-haired doorman ought to be used to that sort of thing by now. The management of the Tiffany didn’t care about the private behaviour of their residents — not as long as the rent was paid and the residents were fairly discreet. Charles had told her that there was a lesbian couple on the fifth floor, and an interior decorator on the fourth floor who continually brought various men to his room for private parties. Considering this, Carla decided it was strange the doorman even gave her a second glance.
The thought of marriage to Charles began to prey on her mind until there were times when she could think of nothing else. It would be so completely different, waking up every morning with her lover beside her, eager to take her into his arms. Then too, there was the fact that she was beginning to fear losing Charles if she didn’t have a firm hold on him, the type of firm hold that only marriage could give her. Although he seemed to enjoy their lovemaking just as she did, she thought at times that she detected an inner restlessness in the man, a sign that he would eventually look around for new worlds to conquer. Sometimes she would be talking to him and he would stare off into space, hardly seeming to hear a word she said. Moments like that made her nervous and worried that he might leave her. And that was one thing she felt unable to bear.
Yet she was afraid to broach the subject of marriage directly. She knew that such a step could scare off any man, particularly an accustomed and comfortable bachelor like Charles. At the same time, she couldn’t help trying to work the idea into the conversation.
“Charles,” she said on their fourth afternoon together, “how come you’ve never married?”
He looked up. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered.”
“Hmmm. I don’t know exactly. I’ve never wanted to, I guess.”
“It’s strange,” she went on.
“How so?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d think a lot of women would have wanted you to marry them.”
“I suppose a few of them did.”
“And you weren’t interested?”
He shook his head. “Never, Carla. I’ve never thought of a woman in terms of things like marriage and babies. It just hasn’t seemed proper to me. I’m happy, you see, and the thought of any curtailment of my freedom or end to my happiness automatically repels me.”
“Does marriage have to end a man’s freedom?”
“Maybe not,” he said, smiling, “but it almost invariably does. Look at the average marriage — a ‘trust’ based on suspicion and a delicate system of checks and balances rivalling the working of international diplomacy and leaving a man more thoroughly bound than a serf under the feudal system.
“But even that isn’t the most important thing. Carla, look at the sort of relationship we have. It’s one that endures simply because it’s healthy and alive. As soon as one of us tires of the other, the relationship will end with no hard feelings on either side. No strings, no ties that bind — in short, nothing but mutual attraction. A relationship between a man and a woman can be a beautiful thing, but it remains beautiful only so long as it remains free and permissive.”
“I guess I understand.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, darling.”
He lifted her chin in his hand. “Then why so sad? What did I say to make you unhappy, Carla?”
“Nothing.”
“There must have been something,” he said, shaking his head. “Goodness, you’re almost in tears! What is it, honey?”
“It’s... oh, I just wish you wouldn’t talk about anything like us breaking up!” She clenched her hands into little fists to keep from crying.
He smiled. “Poor baby,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Poor little baby. You’re so young in some ways and so old in others that sometimes I forget about the young part of you. In time you’ll come to realize that everything has to end sometime, but now you love me and I love you and it’s no time to think of such things, is it?”
She shook her head, unable to open her mouth without crying.
“I understand,” he said. “It’s no time to talk about break-ups or endings or anything of the sort. Come here, Carla. Kiss me.”
She kissed him — gently at first like a child, then fiercely with the hunger and desperation of a woman who suddenly has realized that love can be a transient affair. His arms tightened around her in response to her passion and he forced her back unto the sofa. His hand closed over her breast and held it like a dove.
The world turned into a ball of fire and spun madly before her tightly-lidded eyes. Time and space ceased to matter. Only the moment was important.
She cried out once, sharply.
And then all was still.
Chapter Six
“Darling?”
Ronald’s face across the dinner table seemed troubled, and for a terrible moment she thought he knew the truth. The moment passed, however, and she realized that his trouble came from the case and not from her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing more than usual. Except that I have to leave town tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? How come?”
He sighed. “The damned case, Carla. There’s a man in New York I have to see, and I have to see him as soon as possible. I’m catching a flight down tomorrow morning, and I’m afraid I won’t get back until Friday morning or afternoon.”
“I see,” she said. Instantly her heart swelled as she realized what that would mean — a whole day alone with Charles! But she contained herself and asked: “Want to tell me about it?”
“Sure.” He pushed his dessert away half-eaten and produced a cigar from his jacket pocket, puncturing the end and lighting it. “Remember I told you about Hodges?”
“The second assistant?”
“That’s him. He’s the main opposition witness, and the man is obviously going to lie in his teeth. It will be perjury — clear-cut perjury. But proving it is another matter.”