"Eva?" Deidre called. She laid her gloves and hat on the table next to the couch.
"She isn't here," Cal said, handing her an envelope.
Puzzled, she took it. It was unsealed. Their names were written on the front in Eva's flowing script. "What do you mean, she isn't here?" Cal just grunted; he was already on the other side of the room, pouring himself a drink. Deidre's blood ran cold as she read the note. "She's gone!" she gasped. "And she's getting married out there!" She turned to Cal. "Can you believe this?"
"I knew she was planning to marry him, if that's what you mean."
She stared at him. "You knew they were engaged?" Her voice was low. "Why didn't you tell me? Do I not have the right to know?"
He sipped his drink. "Don't be hysterical. You know now. It isn't as though this means anything for either of us. Unless you count our only child's throwing her life away, that is."
"Is that what you told her?" Deidre couldn't remember the last time she had been so angry. She clenched her fists, overcome by the urge to knock the glass from Cal's hands. It wasn't the first time she had thought about swinging a fist at him. She never had, of course. She wasn't stupid; she knew quite well what kind of man he was. It was her incredible ability to swallow her emotions that had kept her experiences with his temper brief and sporadic. But that control was quickly slipping away. "How could you say such a thing?" He moved to step past her, but she blocked his path. "Have you forgotten our position?" She laughed bitterly. "I certainly haven't."
"There's no reason to make it worse!" he snapped. "This won't last forever."
"Sure it won't."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"We've been over this—I've lost count of how many times. Our lives will never be what they were before. We may as well accept that."
"I don't see you accepting it." He turned up his glass and drained it in one gulp. Grabbing the bottle, he said, "Where is this acceptance you keep insisting I have? Is it wandering around in a daze all day? Is it standing in front of the mirror draped in old clothes, wishing for the good old days?"
Deidre's eyes narrowed. "Is it drinking up every cent we have? Is it diving to the bottom of a bottle of brandy and hoping you'll finally drown?"
"Don't you talk to me about what I do!" Amber liquid sloshed onto his hand. "I'm the one who gave you that life you miss so much! Without me, you would have been nothing!"
"Do you really believe that?" she asked contemptuously. "I chose you. There were men lining up to marry me once. I was the most beautiful girl in two cities. You were lucky to get me." It was as if a valve had been opened; suddenly, everything she had held back for twenty years came rushing out. "I managed your houses. I stood at the helm of your empire with you. I bore your child. I endured your affairs, the whispers behind the hands, the rumors about the kitchen maids' children. I endured it all with grace and dignity. I stood by you when everything was crumbling." Her voice shook. "I am the only person you have left! Look around you. It's just the two of us now. Eva's going off on her own, and I'm surprised she waited this long." She took a deep breath. "I don't know why I'm still here. I'm such a fool." She shook her head slowly.
He watched, stunned, as she turned to leave. "Wait."
"For what?"
"I…I don't know." He was disgusted with himself for not having anything better to say. Didn't he always win? Didn't he always have a solution? His ears echoed with his voice. A real man makes his own luck. What was he, then? A man or a rat? The rat is doing better than me. He gulped down his drink. Warmth spread across his body. His mind slowed down.
"I'm waiting," she said impatiently.
"So am I."
"I'm not waiting for that. Not anymore. I have to learn how to live in this reality, even if…" She sighed. "Because it's all there is."
"It can't be!" He nearly choked on the words. "This cannot be how my life ends!" He slammed his glass down onto the table. "This is not how things were supposed to go, Goddammit!" He gestured toward the window. "They are supposed to be dead or, at the very least, miserable. I am not supposed to be thinking about them, let alone with a daughter about to marry their son. My daughter should be marrying royalty, because that's what she was supposed to be." It was the closest Cal had ever come to saying he loved Eva, and for a moment neither he nor Deidre knew what to do.
"It doesn't sound to me," Deidre said finally, "as though you really want to lose her."
Santa Monica
Jack and Rose shared the armchair next to the window. Dylan sat between Eva and Lily on the couch. Lily rubbed the carpet with her shoe. Eva was looking around the room, studying the drawings on each wall. Dylan's eyes were on her. He studied her as if he were memorizing the way she moved. It reminded Jack of the way he had studied Rose when they first met. For the first year of their marriage, he had drawn her almost constantly, using every pose he could think of. He had filled an entire portfolio with just sketches of her going about the day. He had never seen anyone like her; the air moved when she came near. He wanted desperately to capture just a tiny piece of her in a drawing.
Dylan, on the other hand, drew Eva only when he was alone. She loved his sketches, but he couldn't bring himself to share the ones of her. They were too personal, somehow. What if she didn't like them? Unlike Jack, he wasn't relaxed about his art. It was something he kept secret, only sharing it with those he really trusted.
"So, what brings you here?" Rose asked. "And don't say you just felt like it. I love you children, but you're not that much like your father." She squeezed Jack's hand. "And after all, you brought Eva along," she added with a smile in Eva's direction.
Eva smiled back shyly. "I hope you don't mind," she said.
"Not at all."
"Well," Lily began, "I'm not part of this. I should go unpack while they explain." She moved to stand up.
Dylan shot her a look. "You were asked to come for a reason," he said.
"I thought you just wanted my company," she said innocently. "I never imagined you had an ulterior motive for inviting me along." She smiled sweetly.
Dylan glared mildly at her. "Fine. Go."
Eva reached over and took his hand. His palms were sweating. She squeezed it between both of hers. "Mom," Dylan began slowly, "you're right. We did have a reason for coming." He took a deep breath. He looked from Rose to Jack. "We—I—we came to tell you something." He turned to Eva. She smiled encouragingly. "Eva and I are getting married."
"I don't know why you were so afraid to tell us that," Rose said, standing up. She hugged Dylan. "You know we wouldn't discourage you."
"Yeah, I know," he said sheepishly.
Rose turned to Eva. "I'm glad it's you," she said, touching her hand.
Jack clapped Dylan on the back. "Congratulations," he said. He gave Eva a brief hug. "I don't think he could find anyone better."
Eva blushed. "Thank you."
*****
The next few days were the best Eva had ever known. She and Dylan were together constantly, and she never once had to worry about her father coming to find out what she was up to. Lily never missed an opportunity to tell a story about their childhoods. Jack and Rose joined in and told a few. Dylan and Jack were never without a sheet of paper and a pen, or in Jack's case, a piece of charcoal. They spent two days at the pier, and on the third, Dylan and Lily showed her their favorite parts of the city. They all sat together in the evenings. Jack and Dylan drew, Rose knitted, and she and Lily read. For once, she didn't feel out of place with a book in her hands.
"I love it here," Eva said. The warm ocean breeze blew her hair back. A bright sunset covered the sky. "I understand why they stay here. It's wonderful."
Dylan smiled. "I'm glad you're happy." He slipped an arm around her waist. She moved closer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged his middle. "We'll have to find a place of our own," she said. "The way your parents have here."
"Any ideas?"
"A few."
"Want to share?"
She tilted her head up and kissed him lightly. "Right now I like exactly where we're standing."
*****
Cal scowled at the crowds of people he and Deidre passed. They were filthy and skinny. Every one of them was covered with dust and grime. Some were walking; others were in cars or trucks that looked just about ready to fall apart. Each little group seemed to be carrying everything it could. Desperation shone brightly in each pair of eyes. Their bellies were swollen yet empty. He felt a stab of guilt, but buried it beneath a thick layer of contempt. That couldn't be me, he told himself.
He didn't lose the feeling that he was holding his breath until later that night as he walked on the beach. The water made a soft whoosh sound as it rolled onto the shore. The moon was full and bright overhead. He hadn't told Deidre he was leaving. She had already fallen asleep; he saw no reason to wake her.
"What are we doing here?" he wondered. He wasn't even sure how the decision had been made. One moment they were standing in their apartment in Massachusetts, and the next they were boarding a train for California.
"We're going to show her we love her," Deidre had said. And now here they were.
The thought of seeing Jack and Rose again made him slightly nauseous. They'll be smug. I'll be standing there in my old clothes, and they'll know they're old. They'll know all about… He stopped walking and looked around. The lights of the city were gone. "Where the hell am I?" In the distance he saw a dim light. As he came closer, he realized it was coming from the windows of a modest house that sat at the top of a short hill. He had never in his life asked a stranger for help, but he was just a bit afraid to go wandering back off into the darkness.
He slowly walked up to a set of French doors. A blue curtain covered one. He was just about to knock when a laugh broke the silence. He looked around. A window on his left was open. Looking closer, he saw that it was part of the room the doors led into. The laugh came again a moment later. It was a woman.
"Jack, no!" Rose said. She tried to slip out of his grasp, but he held her tight.
"Do you mean that?" he asked, kissing her jaw.
"No," she whispered. She tilted her head as he moved his lips down her neck.
He pressed her to him. "Rose." Her hands were flat against his chest. She could feel him, already stiff, against her belly. She grabbed his shirt and began to untuck it. "Now who wants who?" he teased.
She slipped her hand into his pants. He sucked in his breath. "You want me," she said, smiling.
In one quick motion, he swept her up into his arms. She laughed again as he carried her over to the bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down with her. His mouth covered hers. She let out a low groan as his hand moved up her thigh.
"I think you want me, too," he said.
Cal couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was frozen. He wanted to look away; he wanted to run. But he couldn't. It was them. His hopes that maybe they really weren't happy together evaporated. He stumbled down the hill, cursing the loose sand as he went. He found his way back to the room he and Deidre were staying in, but he had no idea how.