For Two Nights Only

  Truth could not suffice. Speaking it would necessitate an explanation, for why I hadn’t admitted to Claire earlier (why hadn’t I admitted to Claire earlier?), and because there was no honest explanation other than I was less of an admirable man than I’d always regarded myself to be, that admission proved too difficult to make.

  “One more drink, and then I’m kicking you out,” I said, leaning away from her and smiling. Had I not smiled, perhaps I could’ve extricated myself from the situation. As it was, she interpreted it as an invitation, and placed her lips on mine. They were soft, warm, large and engrossing. I’d played along too long.

  I was completely in the moment and unaware of its passing. When it was over, Heather stood and reached out a hand. I took it, eager to recapture exactly whatever it was we’d just shared. My thoughts passed by in snapshots, retracing the history of the night and where I’d gone wrong, more often where I’d gone right. A quick and muddy analysis of how I’d gotten to this point. I was unable to focus on any one picture and carry it out to a meaningful end. Everything buzzed. Heather led me to the bedroom, pulled back the sheets and guided me to the edge of the bed. I pulled her down next to me and we fumbled over each other, over buttons and straps, buckles and waistbands.

  Hovering over her, held up by my arms, looking down at her naked body, her closed eyes, the corner of her mouth turned slightly upwards, I felt disconnected. If ever I needed to relate when someone mentioned an “out of body experience,” this would be my reference.

  Heather’s eyes opened and she looked up at me. I thought I saw a flash of shock on her face but it quickly vanished, replaced by a smile. Startled by the abruptness of it, I made an attempt to recapture what we’d had that brought us to this point.

  “You’re incredible,” I began. Only the frame of the words made it out. She put a finger to my lips and, quietly, seductively, as if once again realizing she had full control, she managed to stop me with a “shh, you don’t need to say it.” The last word turned into a moan, echoing out to finish the night.

  Track 13 (Medley C)

  A sunny English morning lit the bedroom. I’d passed out on the side of the bed near the window, partially shielding Heather from the light now pouring in, allowing her to continue sleeping while my eyes adjusted to the brightness.

  Collections of clouds lazily shifted shapes as they moved across the sky. A flock of birds changed direction randomly and in tandem. I pulled the pillow further under my head and relaxed, keeping at bay the thoughts I knew I’d soon have to work out that would explain what had happened, and what it meant. The phrase, “This is who you are now,” repeated in my head.

  Next to me Heather stirred, made a soft sound and reached out a hand to touch my back. I turned to her, a mess of hair bunched around a pillow. She lay on her back, opened her right eye and looked at me. A smile on her face put at ease something I’d only started to dread.

  “Good morning.” Her voice was rough in forming the first words of the day.

  “Good morning.”

  Her eye closed and she was still, except for the movement of her breath inside her chest.

  “How long are you in London? When do you go home?” I asked.

  “I am home.” She smiled with her eyes closed, satisfied.

  I enjoyed her moment of fresh, untarnished contentment. On the bed table beside her I made out the time on the clock, a quarter to eight. Unsure how to move things forward I remained propped up on my elbow, staring at her, waiting for her to open her eyes. My time with Darin was limited and dwindling down, but I didn’t want to rush this ending.

  With her lips pressed tenderly together, Heather began to hum a song, a melody that rose in small steps up to a peak and then back down, like she was being rocked back and forth. Up and down the notes went, back and forth, building slowly in intensity. I opened my mouth to ask her what she was doing, but before I could she began softly to sing.

  “He could tell by, the look in my eye I was gone. He said leave your things, I’ve come to take you home. We’ll go back ho-ooooooh -oh- oh- oh- ome. Ho-ooooooh -ohhhh- oh- oh- oh- ome. She sang the word in rising and then descending notes.

  “What’s that song?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and nonchalant.

  Her eyes opened.

  “I don’t know.” The words came unevenly. “I must’ve heard it somewhere.”

  “Where?” Her silence lasted too long. “I need to know where you’ve heard that song, Heather. Please,” urgency strained the plea, “try to remember.”

  “It must have been on the radio yesterday, I don’t know. What’s wrong?”

  “I was told only three people have heard it. I don’t think you heard it on the radio.”

  “I must’ve heard it somewhere else, then.”

  “Enough times to know the words? Think, please. This is important.”

  “I don’t know, let’s not fuss about it. This is an unpleasant way to start the day. Lie back and relax.”

  In my head a number of scenarios could explain her knowing the song. Maybe it had leaked: but there weren’t any musicians brought in to play on the track, and the only copy was on Darin’s computer. The chance that Murphy had let it get out was beyond possible. The children’s choir sang on the chorus and knew the words: but it seemed unlikely that it would travel from the mouths of babes to the woman beside me. Just one situation seemed to work. “How long have you known Darin?” I asked.

  She wore a look of sincerity while the silence hung over us like a heavy blanket, pressing down. “I’m sorry, Chris. I thought you’d figured this out.” She rolled over to face me. “I really did. I thought we were both in on it.”

  “I don’t know what ‘it’ is. Please tell me.”

  “Last night; what happened. I don’t regret it, you’re really wonderful, I meant everything I said about you being a gentleman. You’re a great guy.”

  “Except that I’m…” the last words, the ones admitting I was a cheater, caught in my throat. I still couldn’t admit to Claire’s existence, as if I should even care what Heather thought of me. What I suspected she’d done seemed equally as reprehensible.

  “You’re what?” she prodded.

  “I’m nothing.” I leaned back away from her. “What did you think my understanding was? What was your understanding about last night?” I danced around the topic, hoping she’d come out and say it without me having to ask her outright.

  “That we were going to sleep together, even though you shouldn’t. That this was all headed towards last night’s ending, and you knew it was the point.”

  So she knew. She’d known the whole time. This wasn’t the morning babbling of someone unawares. “And you did exactly as Darin asked? Knowing everything about me?”

  She nodded. “He asked me to meet you. He was afraid he’d said too much, or might. You’re smart. I was sure you knew. But that you didn’t,” she searched for her words, came up empty. “It seemed fine because we both, we were both…”

  “Consenting adults, is the phrase I believe you’re searching for.” I thought about Claire, imagined the barrier now standing between us. It always would. The picture of myself I’d had, of a man with principles and rules and boundaries, eroded. In its place stood a generic stereotype of a man, a male ignorant of his true desires and unaware for the entirety of his life, up until the moment he was no different and no better than any other man he’d judged: all the countless people I’d interviewed unable to hold together families and healthy relationships because of urges inconceivable to me at the time. Now those condemnations were cast against me, in my own voice. I tried to steady my shaking arms. “I still don’t understand,” I said, climbing out of bed and, not caring I was naked, looking down at her, “why Darin thought this was necessary.”

  “It’s safety for him.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” My voice raised, spooking me and startling her. She recoiled to the edge of the bed.

  “He’s a very private person. You said
as much yesterday. Darin was concerned he might open up more than he’d like. He told me he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, which things might come out in the middle of a long day of talking. He told me there are some things he wouldn’t want a reporter knowing, things that he’s only ever told a few intimate people in his life. People like me.”

  “That’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard a person do. It is beyond comprehension that he went to that length.” I hit a frantic pitch and for a moment I wondered how thin the walls were, then realized there are no neighbors when you’re living in the penthouse. “And that you went along with it.”

  “When you were unwilling to talk about him it made this more difficult, I promise. I thought you wouldn’t betray him, no matter what he’d told you, but I couldn’t stop then.”

  “Of course you could. You’re a person with her own free will, aren’t you?” I became aware of my nakedness and searched for my underwear, finding it on the far side of the bed and pulling it on.

  “Yesterday he must’ve said something that made him uncomfortable. Originally he only asked me to cross your path, and then stay in touch with you. If I could, find out what you thought of him.”

  “Well how did it escalate from there?”

  “I don’t know what you talked about, you’ve been respectful of his privacy, but he asked if I could secure your silence. You have a girlfriend, right? It’s serious? He knows about her, and he wanted something to hold you in check.”

  “So he told you to sleep with me? That was part of a plan? Tell me you’re joking.”

  The confusion on her face answered the question. The notion of using sex as a bargaining tool defied logic, but not for her. Heather sat up, keeping her eyes on me. “Darin asked me to secure your cooperation.”

  “And you went along with it? Who are you? What the fuck, Heather? Who does that?”

  She started searching the sheets, pulling up the covers and feeling around at the foot of the bed.

  “Don’t use that tone with me. How dare you?” She lay back and pulled on her panties. “After what you did? I’m not the one living with someone else.” The tone was accusatory, and I did not like it.

  “No, you’re just some woman that sees no problem sleeping with a man when someone tells you to. We can look up the definition of that, but I’ve got the sense you’re a smart woman, I’m sure you know what we’d find.”

  Having covered herself appropriately enough, she looked me straight in the eye to send a warning. Had she done that the previous day I would’ve backed down, but I felt no need to retreat from her stare.

  She opened her mouth a few times, like a fish, starting and stopping a sentence before it began. Finally she settled on, “I care about Darin tremendously.” Each word came clear and concise.

  “This is a really fucking strange way of showing it. How can you say that with even a drop of sincerity? He sold you out for his own needs.”

  “He’s damaged, it’s his way of defending himself before someone hurts him again. His intentions are good.”

  “He’s an ass, and his intentions being in the right place is debatable. Why would you care about someone like that? Go find someone who doesn’t ask you to do shit like this.”

  “For me it’s not an option,” she replied, her voice icy, her body rigid. “You have someone who cares what you do each day, who asks how your life is. Not everyone does. This may be surprising for you, but many, many people can’t find someone to love them. I tried, I looked all over but Mr. Right didn’t show up in my life, and that’s how that goes for some people. A decade looking with no luck. For those people, for me, the best option is someone like Darin. Conditional love is better than no love at all. And maybe that grows into something more.”

  I began the search for my pants and shirt. “I may not have someone like that anymore.”

  “That’s not my fault,” she pleaded. “And whoever it is never has to know. That’s the point, Chris. You can continue to live your life the same way you would’ve two days ago if you do what Darin asks. This doesn’t have to change that for you. You can keep everything. But I don’t have anything, I have Darin, he’s what I’ve got to hold on to. There is no job as an event coordinator, or loving family that visits on my birthdays. I just have him.”

  “I can’t go back,” I muttered. It was gone, completely, the sense of myself I’d had forty-eight hours ago. The previous form was quietly miserable but convinced of his own content, and the man standing in my place in the penthouse of The Goring had signed off that he was looking for more than his life had given him. There was no going back to settling. That’s how I would always see it. It wasn’t Darin who had slipped up and betrayed a dark secret; I had.

  “What is it he doesn’t want anyone to know? Nothing he said yesterday was scandalous. What is he hiding? I’ve talked to crazy rockstar artists, Darin isn’t one of them. I mean, he is for doing this shit,” I motioned from myself to Heather, “but even when he was drinking he was mild.”

  “He wasn’t drinking.” She seemed to take pleasure in contradicting me, in the power she had to reveal little patches of the big picture.

  “What does that matter? And yes he was, I watched him.”

  “Darin doesn’t drink. Not since that night. He was passed out when she drowned, he hasn’t had a drink since.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Was it brown?”

  “Was what brown?”

  “His drink.”

  “Yes.”

  “Ice tea and lemonade.”

  I began to pick up Heather’s clothes, her floral dress from the doorway, white heels from the foot of the bed, a cream bra beside them. I handed her the pile.

  “Can you get out of here, please? I need to go see him.”

  “Chris, so you know,” her voice took on a serious tone, her face earnest, “I thought you were okay with this. We had chemistry. You’re a good guy.”

  “Thanks, your opinion means a tremendous amount.”

  Her face flashed anger, but she collected her emotions and coolly smiled before getting out of bed. Reaching her hands up toward the ceiling in a stretch that elongated her body, she showed off for me one last time. Slowly she fastened on her bra and pulled the dress over her head.

  “I was trying to be nice.”

  “What you did was not nice. I don’t understand how you can be confused about this.”

  “I didn’t have to say anything at all.”

  “Bullshit. What you had to say at some point was that this was an elaborate trick, that none of it was genuine.”

  “I don’t understand how it being ‘genuine’ makes a difference. You thought you were pulling a hot English bird and you liked that. I thought you were nice enough, certainly nicer than some of the guys I’ve been with, and enjoyed our time together. Last night, there” she looked toward the bed, “included.”

  “Because you set me up. You set me up because someone asked you to.”

  “Growing up, my neighbor’s friends scored him a tom for his sixteenth birthday, they felt he was overdue by then. That’s setting someone up.”

  “So you would’ve slept with me if Darin hadn’t asked you.”

  She started to say something but stopped.

  “Get the fuck out.”

  I motioned for her to leave and followed while she grabbed her little white purse from the couch. At the door she paused, as if debating what to do. I wanted her gone, to create as soon as possible a distance between us, between me and the situation. The idea of it, mixed with the abusive amount of alcohol from the previous night, filled my mouth with sour juices. I swallowed hard to fight back the retch.

  When she did turn to me it appeared she’d come to terms with something. Her expression was calm and controlled.

  “I don’t understand what you got from this,” I told her.

  “I showed Darin how much I care.”

  “Do you understand how fucked up that is?” She looked at me
with big doe eyes, her head shaking ever so slightly back and forth. I cleared my throat. “I can’t explain it, then.”

  She reached out and I took a step back. She stopped the motion, then came forward, her eyes locked into mine, and grabbed my hand. She caught only the tips of my fingers, and we stood there in an awkward connection.

  “You will think about this in the future, often, and I think it will make you very sad. Don’t let it. I know what I’m doing, I’m good at it. Darin has his pick of girls, and of those I’m the one he asked to do this. Because he knew I wouldn’t fail. This wasn’t a decision you made, you didn’t know we were playing. I know what you’ll think, what you’re probably already thinking, and this isn’t who you are. It’s who I got you to be. Maybe it doesn’t take away the bitter taste in your mouth, but it should.”

  She let go, and my hand dropped down to my side. I searched for words, and when nothing sounded fitting, I nodded.

  “Take care. Darin already knows what happened. He asked that you still stop by for a last chat.” She gathered herself, smiled brightly and pulled open the door.