Chapter 11
Where in the world have you been, Gail? You had me worried sick. It's after one. I phoned just about everybody."
Gail looked at Jack, who stood there with his coat on, as if she couldn't recall having met him. "Not everybody. I was at Janice's studio ... Phone was out of order there." She hoped he would believe her but didn't really care.
"I was about ready to call the police...."He walked up to her and took her into his arms. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."
She was almost moved, reading concern in his eyes. She patted his cheek as one pats an old faithful retriever, always there, always glad to see you. "Why, nothing happened. I had the most interesting time." She took off her hat and dropped the stole on a chair. "Janice's paintings are-extraordinary ... abstract, you know."
"I can imagine." He yawned. "Well, we better get to bed. Hard day tomorrow."
She vanished into the bathroom and frowned into the mirror. It didn't show, nothing showed. She had a crazy impulse to tell him about the three-way circus, wanting to see his reaction. He'd think her a wanton ... She looked at the mauve shadows beneath her eyes, thinking I am a wanton. I have no morals. And-no regrets.
She took off her things. The hot shower brought her exhaustion to the fore. Her limbs were like dead wood, not attached to her body. A deep lassitude reached through to her bones. She would, she decided, allow Janice to paint her in the altogether, but there would be no more intimacies. And as far as Kent was concerned she had lost all interest in him. Let him practice the piano elsewhere. The way she felt now, neither man nor woman could coax excitement out of her.
For die following week she stuck close to home, cooked appetizing little dinners for Jack who was happily surprised. But whenever he reached for her she pretended tiredness and he didn't insist.
"What happened to your beatnik admirer?" He dropped the paper.
Feeling housewifely, Gail was shoving vases and nick-nacks around. "Oh I really don't know-nor care. One thing I know, I'll never learn to play the piano."
"Well," he chuckled, "in that case it goes back where it came from. Good thing I told them that we'd only rent it with an option, to buy ... I had an idea your musical phase would be a passing fancy."
She looked at him and thought, he's not as dumb as I thought-maybe he's not dumb at all, just waiting till I rediscover him as a bed partner.
"By the way, we're leaving for Los Angeles in about a week-that gives you plenty of time to buy out the stores."
"I promise I won't bankrupt you." She walked over and kissed the top of his head.
Los Angeles, right now, looked good to her. She wanted a change badly, a change of atmosphere, and maybe a change of man. Janice had been interesting as an hors d'oeuvre, although Kent, the male, had been the main course at that feast. She was posing for Janice at the rate of three afternoons a week; it was a nice diversion, but Janice was getting on her nerves. She recalled yesterday's visit.
Janice had received her-of all absurd vestments-in a black bikini. Gail had taken one look at the boyish body and had casually remarked.
"Really Janice, you're overdoing things. You'll catch cold."
"If I do catch cold at least you'll come and nurse me," the girl had countered gaily, re-arranging the couch draperies on which Gail was to pose.
Gail was reclining, head thrown back, legs harmoniously displayed against the soft backdrop, when Janice dropped palette and brush and walked over.
"I don't like the way your curls are arranged, too coiffeurish." Her fingers ruffled through Gail's hair, now sliding down, trickling over one white breast.
"Using a new beauty cream?" she inquired. "They look fuller. But I approve. "She bent down and her lips were greedy.
Annoyed, Gail wriggled away. "I have no desire to lug around huge udders," she stated. "I guess I'll have to start dieting."
"Nonsense,' I like my gals well upholstered," announced Janice, starting the hand play once more.
"Really Janice, let's not waste time. You better get on with the painting ... I have lots to do before I leave." And I'm not your girl, she wanted to say but didn't.
"What makes you suddenly so cool and aloof? You did enjoy our little threesome, if I recall. Or, maybe you prefer to have Kent all to yourself." Her mouth was tight, the green eyes oozed malice.
"If it makes you feel better, I haven't heard from Kent since-we met here. And, glad of it. After all, he's nothing but a rather crude young male."
"How stupid of me, I thought you went for crude young males-if they're virile enough."
Janice started working away, and Gail hoped this was the last session. She had enough of Janice Bailey.
"I shall require three more afternoons out of your life," said Janice, accompanying Gail to the door. "That is, unless you change your mind. I know you better than you know yourself. One man-especially a type like Jack-will never be enough for you."
Well, Janice was wrong on all counts. Jack was fine, he tried to please and she, Gail, would try to please him. Now she thought about Janice's remark. The bra she now wore constantly, seemed overly tight. Also, her belly was slightly mounded. Oh, not enough for anybody but herself to notice. Also, she didn't feel quite right. Would be a good idea to consult Dr. Powell before going on that trip.
---Gail got up from the table, her eyes on Dr.
James Powell who was putting away the instrument, his back to her.
"Well Doc, what's the verdict? Now that you have looked into me as well as at my bulges." Her tone was light and jesting.
He turned his face to her. "My diagnosis, Mrs. Michaels, is that you're pregnant. That should please a healthy young woman like you ... I know Jack will be overjoyed."
Gail paled and bit her lower lip. "But-that can't be, Doctor. Are you quite sure?"
"And why can't it be?" he smiled broadly. "Happens every day. Of course, you could have a frog test-that would tell the story."
The result of the laboratory test was positive.
Gail took a long drive hoping it would clear her mind. She looked at the bursting new green of the trees, at the sun that lay in golden patches on the manicured lawns of the suburbs. It simply couldn't, must not be. A child was the one thing she didn't want. Becoming ungainly, her belly swollen and maybe her figure ruined forever. Although, nowadays women took good care of themselves, wore corsets. Well, she wanted none of it. Then the question welled up: Whose child? That beatnik's or Jack's? She had only been careless with Jack that one time ... But, one time was enough. She slowed down; no use getting a speeding ticket to add to her worries. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became to her that it was Kent Miles'. She bore that young man's chdd, a lover she no longer saw, nor wanted to see. Jack, of course, would be overjoyed. But she wouldn't tell him; she must find a way to get rid of it. Other women did it every day. Maybe Janice would know of a place....
That night, she was the loving wife, surrendering to Jack's lovemaking, her mind scheming. Finally deciding she would have a good time in Los Angeles and tend to the distasteful matter later when she returned.
And then, the afternoon before their departure as she was busy arranging her wardrobe, Kent appeared.
"Hello Gail." He embraced her, keeping her in his arms, before she could recover from her surprise. "Miss me? I thought if I made myself scarce I'd be more appreciated."
"Let go of me," she wrested herself loose, staring at the beak-nosed face, hating the scraggly beard, hating him who had gotten her into trouble. "I was glad you stayed away, and I hoped you'd stay away for good."
"Baby, whatever gave you that idea?" He slapped her buttocks playfully. "I changed jobs, had a lot of practicing to do. But now we can takeover where we left off." His hands reached for her breasts. "Hm, so full and firm."
She slapped his hand and he let go of her. "Will you please go and leave me alone."
His face took on a sheepish expression, the eyes looked mean. "So, no more piano lessons. I get it, you found yourself another boy."
"I happen to have a perfectly good husband," she said virtuously.
"He must have changed," hissed Kent. "But I haven't-changed. I still want your loving. And, right now."
He yanked at her robe; its one button came off and revealed her tanned self. His lips crushed her mouth and he carried her to the couch. She bit and scratched but while his one hand held her down, the other undid his zipper. Now he covered her, laughing at her kicking.
"I like that wild-cat stuff. See how hot you got me, baby?" He strained against her and, feeling his pulsating, throbbing hardness, desire flamed in her. Damning herself, she resisted no longer, let him have his way, finally panting and moaning, sharing the climax with him.
He was about to leave the cozy hiding place when she saw his face redden. Quickly he withdrew, trying to straighten out his pants he hadn't bothered to take off.
"Taking a piano lesson?" Jack's voice was cold as ice. He advanced into the middle of the room, his face one shade paler than usual, his eyes black with fury.
Kent was on his feet, his back to the strafing eyes, bringing his attire in order. Gail picked up the robe from the rug to cover herself, a sinking feeling in her stomach, knowing this was it. Nothing she could do-about it.
Now Jack's voice thundered, his forefinger shot out, pointing at the door. "Get out before I murder you."
Kent raced past the husband's balled fists, made it to the door that closed on him. Husband and wife were alone.
Jack's face was working, he was breathing hard. He stood by the couch, looking down at her pale face, the wild hair, and the smeared lipstick.
"Don't say one word, and don't try to defend yourself. I have good eyes. I had my doubts about your carryings on. However, as that louse hadn't darkened my door lately I had hopes...." His voice trembled, fading out into a deep sigh.
"Jack," she knew now what to say, hoping to convince him, "don't judge by what-you thought you saw. True, Kent came here wanting to make love to me. But," she sat up, holding the robe over her body, "I told him to leave. He wouldn't listen-he simply-"
"Yes, I know, he raped you. How many times does that make? I may have been a trusting fool. But, no more. I'll think it over-what to do. Yes, a divorce should suit us both...."
"But Jack, I don't want you to leave me ... I-"
"You better shut up." He came close and frowned into her greenish face. "I could-yes, I think I shall." He slapped her cheek, first the right one and then the left. She screamed, tried to hit back, but he held her hands in his iron grip. "I'd advise you to stay out of my way," his voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You may get hurt."
That night, he locked her out of the bedroom and she lay in the den, cursing Kent, her stupidity, thinking of some angle. There seemed none....
In the morning he was gone before she could talk to him. And that evening he was packing his bags while she sat in the living room wondering what to say.
He stood before her, his hat on, wearing his new suit. "I'm leaving for L.A. tonight, and I want you gone when I come back. Understand, gone. And," his eyes were hard, "I won't change my mind."
"But Jack, where can I go?" she muttered.
"For all I care, back to where you came from-to Plymouth Falls. And, just so you know, I withdrew the money from the joint account. So, use what you saved from your allowance...."
He picked up the grip and was gone, not giving her a chance to say anything.
She crumbled in a heap on the floor, her hands beat at the rug. She cried tears of rage, her mind desperately scheming. What to do? Where to turn? She didn't have a friend in the world. Suddenly she dried her tears on the sleeve of the robe, got up and walked to the phone. She had one friend who would be most understanding and more than willing to console and advise.
She dialed Janice Bailey's number.