Chapter 16
The Irony of Truth
To say that I was in a quandary of doubt is putting it mildly. I had gone straight home after receiving that verbal shock from Rebecca, but alone in the house I felt utterly lost and frightened. When Charles arrived home I had clung to him and cried like a child-finally passing into a mild form of hysterics.
Janet came over around noon the next day and told me that Rebecca had suddenly decided she wanted to leave.
"Yesterday, Doris. It was right after our little ... party with Jerry. She suddenly decided she wanted to go home. I told her to wait until John got home and we'd take her to the airport. But she said she wanted to leave right away and that she'd take a cab. I told her to drop over say goodbye to you ... but she said she already had. By the way, Doris. Why did you run off like that yesterday? You should've stayed. We really had a party with that kid. And he asked about you. Said he liked your legs."
"I ... uh ... suddenly felt sort of sick ... a headache, Janet. So Rebecca's gone. Just like that, eh?" I snapped my fingers and managed a weak smile. I felt strange. Lonely. But at the same time ... relieved. Empty ... but wonderfully secure. It was over! I was free! I had a feeling like I'd had as a kid after Christmas-it was nice that all the merry-making was finally over, but I missed the warmth and excitement of it at the same time.
"Yes, she's gone," Janet nodded and shrugged. "She's quite a gal, isn't she?" Janet's eyes narrowed as she looked at me.
"Yes. Yes, she is," I nodded. "And extraordinary, too."
"You were pretty ... gone on her, weren't you?" Janet's smile was meant to be teasing. It failed. It was sickening.
"I suppose so," I replied.
"She left you a letter, Doris," Janet's voice was very low.
"Oh, where is it?" I tried to sound casual.
Janet undid a button of her blouse and pulled out an envelope. "Here. I didn't want to give it to you until I saw how the news of her leaving affected you. Charles came over last night ... told us he'd put you to bed with a sedative. Said you'd been hysterical."
"I've really been ... tense lately," I said, as I opened the letter.
Janet mumbled something about seeing me later then and left. I read the letter in that state of rather morbid apathy that one feels after an emotional binge.
Dear Rebecca:
I know you must be confused and frightened about all that's happened. Don't be. And don't try to figure it out because, believe me, you couldn't in a thousand years. Read this letter twice, and then throw it away. But remember what I have to say for the rest of your life. It's important.
Be yourself, Doris. Have no fear of consequences, or about what others will think. Be you. Let nothing or anyone stand in your way. To the extent that you compromise and spread yourself thin-you lose your true self-your individuality. When someone-a friend, your husband, or just anyone-says something or does something that goes against your grain, tell them. Set them straight. The only immorality is deceit. The only dishonesty is compromise. Get your lovely teeth into life and bite down hard and hold on with everything you've got. Taste life! Swallow it! don't be afraid. Don't hold back. When we're old and spent, we regret the things we haven't done far more than the things we've done. Remember that.
I've enjoyed being with you. But so would anyone, because you are so intense and flattering. I felt like a goddess in your presence. You gave me wings. You made me, in fact, much more than I am. But then this is your way. You're an exaggerator. You should've been an actress, you would have been superb.
Forget me now, Rebecca
I suppose it was to console me that Charles invited Janet and John over for bridge that night. He was worried about me, and he probably thought it would be good for me to get back in my old familiar pre-Rebecca role for the evening. And he was right. It did seem good. There was no mention of the past. No talk about sex. We had our usual martinis, talked our usual small talk, laughed a great deal (the last, I realized, was for my benefit).
But then, I suppose to show them that I was perfectly okay now and that they could let down and "be themselves", I very casually said, "I wonder why Rebecca was in such a rush to get home?" And then, looking at John, I added: "D'you suppose she actually went home? If she flew she'd be there by now. Why don't you call and see, John?"
John hesitated, glancing rather tensely at Charles.
"Go ahead, John," my husband nodded soberly. "It'll make Doris feel better if you do."
John shrugged, rose, walked over to the phone. We sat quietly while he was making long distance connections. It was obvious that everyone was a bit put out with me for bringing up Rebecca. But the reason I had, ironically enough, was because I'd been thinking about what she'd said in her letter about not being afraid to speak out. So ... she had been on my mind ... and I was curious to know if she'd arrived home safe ... so I'd "spoken up".
Then we heard John talking but the phone was too far away to make out what he was saying. There was something in his tone of voice, though, that told us something was amiss. He talked for quite some time-and in that same portentous tone. I grew tense and restless; we all grew tense and restless. The very atmosphere seemed charged with something ominous. Then John hung up and, turning to face us, we saw that he was as white as the proverbial ghost.
"What's wrong, dear?" Janet spoke up, and the sound of her voice made me jump and my heart began to pound.
"It's incredible! Absolutely incredible!" he said, walking slowly towards us. He was pulling at his collar in the fashion of a person badly in need of air. His eyes were glassy.
"What's wrong? What's incredible, John?" Janet asked him.
John looked at his wife, then at Charles, finally at me, and said, "They were furious because I called them. They called it a sadistic trick. Her mother called me a monster."
"But why?" I spoke up. "Is Rebecca home? Is she all right? Tell me, John."
John shook his head slowly, like a man in a trace. Then, covering his eyes with one hand, he said, "They told me that Rebecca died ... a month ago. They gave her a Chinese funeral ... she was cremated."
And. . just before I fainted ... I heard it ... that low ironic chuckle of Rebecca's....