Chapter 19
Mid-September. Afternoon. Raining hard now, the hush sound magnified in the empty house, hollow echoes of it whispering from the barren walls.
It was fortunate, Nadine thought, that the movers had finished loading the furniture before it started to rain. Some of the smaller pieces would go to the apartment Paul had rented on the North Side. Sherry had probably asked for her bedroom ensemble. The rest would go into storage. For how long or for what purpose had not been discussed in those few crisp, formal telephone conversations with Paul's attorney.
It was fortunate, too, that Leila had decided against selling her house. Two houses for sale in one block would have been psychologically bad.
Leila was a rare visitor. Living like a recluse, Nadine avoided other, less charitable neighbors, driving to the next-nearest suburb to do what little marketing was required, for fear of running into Gwen or Mabel.
Vince (Leila said) seemed more addicted to the bottle than ever, but he had reached a compromise with Gwen and was doing his drinking at home or at the pinball plant. The Allegrettis were being viewed rather dimly by the Membership Committee of the Riverdale Country Club since Vince's family skeleton had been brought to light; Vince had a new excuse for getting drunk.
And Warren was home, too, restored to a more rational state by Mabel's forgiveness and equally forgiving visits from Paul, but still under treatment for his nerves. The brewery was having to manage without his services or those of Cousin George, who had gone back to school.
Nadine had been opening the door once each day to check the mail, emptying the contents of the box and darting furtively into the hall. She did it now, hoping the daily hope
... that there would be a letter from Sherry. Today there was a phone bill, a hardware store circular and an engraved announcement informing his patients of the removal of Dr. Ayers' practice to the more spacious new Riverdale Medical Center Building.
It was the last mail she would receive in this house, just as she had finished the last cup of coffee, the last shower, the last walk through the cavernously empty, echoing rooms.
She made the'last telephone call then, calling for a cab. There would be a wait for the taxi, the driver told her from his outdoor phone next to the train depot. It was raining ... and with only three cabs available, it might be a while, he apologized.
"I'm not in a hurry," Nadine assured him.
Luggage next to the door ... still undecided about where to go. Hotel apartment? Maybe the airport? There was no hurry when there was no destination.
And where would there ever be to go, where Nadine would sparkle like a diamond, the way she had scintillated here, where Paul and this house provided a deep velvet background for her glitter? And what could she revive of the old loves when now she wanted only one? Only that one love was being severed now by stacks of legal forms and documents. (Paul ... Paul ... Paul and my child!) What could she stir up in the bleak future that would not be an anticlimax to the tinseled and tragic adventure with Monty Carrell? What could she begin, with confidence, without desire, with all her love and enthusiasm turned toward the past? Even Ann Helsley had something to look forward to; a forthcoming trial was better than nothing at all.
Yet, earlier in the day, when Leila had come to see if she could help, Nadine had almost been relieved to find all her ties with the past breaking. Not until all of the greasepaint had been wiped away, until the theatre had been cleared of its last action, could the actress walk out the stage door ... no longer a performer but a woman. There must be some kind of future, however misty, for a woman.
Leila had been painfully honest: "I started waiting for Paul the day Roy left me. Someday, I thought, Paul's going to need me ... but it's only going to happen because Nadine makes it come about. Someday a bigger tiger's going to step into her jungle. It won't be my fault. I won't have to feel guilty if she lets herself be devoured...."
"Maybe I was playing your game, too ... a milder, passive version, when I pretended not to know about your affair with Roy. And when I kept telling you how lucky you were to have Paul, I meant it ... because I loved him. But I was giving you rope, too. Making you sure of him. You wouldn't ever guard anything you were sure of, would you? And if I didn't tell Paul what I knew about you, it wasn't out of any sense of ... nobility. Forgive me for that, too. I only knew one thing. If I'd told Paul you were a ... whatever you were, he'd have walked away from me in disgust. I knew he'd never learn to care for a woman who'd been one jump ahead of him, knew his secrets, hurt his pride. How stupid you must have thought me! How blind!"
Nadine hadn't asked if Leila's long-term program had produced results. Paul phoned her daily. Leila admitted this humbly, not crowing about it; she was nearly apologetic in saying the three of them, Sherry, Paul and Leila, were having dinner with the Ryners next Saturday. But not until Nadine had left the neighborhood. It would have been awkward to know Nadine was so near.
"I'm glad Paul didn't lose the account," Nadine had said. (Thinking of the dinner at Ryners', remembering Leila's joking complaints about how rarely anyone invited the "odd" woman to a party.) "I'm glad there's someone around to ... make Paul feel important again."
"It's no effort on my part," Leila had said. "To me he's always been important."
Nadine had summoned her last reserve of pride. Laughing it off ... the facetious dismissal. "I suppose, eventually, he'll marry you. We'll still be friends, won't we ... you and I?"
Leila shook her head solemnly. "None of us are going to stop caring about you, Nadine ... just because we'd like to. We can't live with you. But once you've loved someone the way all of us loved you...."
Nadine's laugh sounded faked. No more actress ... the director was dead. But she had to say something. "Shall we play it Hollywood style? Invite the ex-wife to dinner some night?"
"No. No, I'm sorry. I waited too long." Leila's eyes filled with tears. "And I've known you too long ... too well. I'd never underestimate what you can do, Nadine. I'll never invite you to dinner."
It was nearing dusk when the cabbie came to the door, running, because the gentle September rain had developed into a torrential downpour.
He picked up the suitcases and Nadine took the house keys from her handbag. Lock the door, follow him to the cab, don't turn around and look back. Leila would be watching from her window across the street....
The telephone, scheduled to be disconnected in the morning, began to ring.
"I'll take your suitcases out an' wait in the cab," the driver said.
Nadine walked back to the den. The phone sat on the carpeted floor, looking dishearteningly out of place 'and deserted.
Last incoming call in this house. It might be Paul. It might be Sherry. (Knowing as she picked up the receiver that it would be neither of them.)
"Hello?"
The hesitant pause, the old familiar mumbled sound: "Nadine ... Honey, I've ... been thinking about you all day...."
Nadine closed her eyes. My God, the last of the faithful, the last of the true, lover to end all lovers, until death do us part....
"Nadine? Listen ... there's nothing to stop you from getting out now ... could you meet me at...."
"There's someone waiting for me, Vince," Nadine said. "I can't talk to you now."
"Why can't you...?"
She dropped the receiver, hurrying out of the room. Out of the house. Last turn of the key.
And hurrying through the cool, absorbing rain ... rain that brought a brief, unwelcome recollection of heated liquor and a rising nutmeg aroma, hearing the telephone behind her, ringing and ringing....
Breathless, Nadine settled in the back seat of the Riverdale Black-and-White cab.
"Well ... where we goin' on this bright, sunshiny day?" the driver asked.
Everyone in Riverdale was casual and friendly and warm. You felt at home here. You always felt as though you belonged....
He started up the motor.
Nadine thought hard. Looking directly in front of her, through the rain-blurred windshield, thinking hard.
"Depot?" the driver asked. "The depot?"
"I figured with them suitcases .. "Yes, I guess so."
She saw his eyes in the rear-view mirror, narrowing ... puzzled.
"Yes, certainly, the depot," Nadine said. She closed her eyes. "The depot will be just fine."