Bittersweet

CHAPTER 22

PAUL DROVE to Westport that night, and had dinner with them. It was the first time he had met India's other children. And he thought they were very sweet, and very funny.
Sam entertained them all through the meal. And Paul and Jason had a very grown-up conversation about sailing. Aimee cautiously flirted with him, trying out her skills; she was very pretty and looked a great deal like her mother. And only Jessica seemed to have reservations about him, and immediately after dinner, she went upstairs to do her homework.
“You passed inspection,” India said with a smile, as she sat down in the living room with him afterward, once they'd all gone upstairs to call their friends and watch TV. “Jason said you were cool. Aimee thought you were okay. And you already know Sam loves you.”
“And Jessica hates me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No. She didn't say anything, which means she doesn't hate you. If she did, she'd tell you.”
“That's comforting,” he said with a look of amusement. They were good kids, and he could see she had done her job well. They were bright and secure, and happy. And the conversation at the table had been lively.
They went upstairs eventually, on tiptoe, after they knew the kids were in bed. She locked her door, and they made love as quietly as they could, although Paul was a little nervous about it.
“Are you sure this is all right?” he whispered afterward. On the wings of passion, he hadn't bothered to ask her, but she nodded as they lay in the dark and whispered.
“The door is locked, and they're all sound sleepers.”
“The innocence of children,” he whispered. “We're not going to be able to fool them for long. I can't spend the night, can I?” He already knew the answer to his question.
“Not yet. We need to give them time. They're already upset about Doug's girlfriend. They spend their weekends with her.” Paul thought to himself about the bad luck of arriving on the scene second. The prospect of driving back to New York at four in the morning didn't thrill him.
In the end, he stayed till six, and slept fitfully, and although he dreamt of airplanes, he didn't dream about Serena. India tiptoed downstairs with him, and promised to come into the city that night to see him. But as he drove back to town, he realized that this wasn't going to be easy. If nothing else, the distance and lack of sleep were going to kill him. But she was worth it.
He was seeing Sean on Thursday night, and on the weekend the kids were going to their father's, and India was going to come to the city and stay at the Carlyle with him. So far, they had it all organized, but the prospect of commuting to Westport on alternate nights, and hiding from the kids, seemed somewhat complicated to him. And all he could think of was the perversity of God's sense of humor. At his age, the prospect of a woman with four children and a dog, and a house in Connecticut, was going to provide an interesting challenge. But she was also the most exciting woman he had ever slept with. That made up for something. The dog maybe.
But at four o'clock that afternoon when he left the office for a massage and a nap, he was exhausted. And he only looked slightly better when he took her to dinner that night at Gino's.
“How were the kids?” he asked with a look of concern. “Did they say anything? Did they hear me leave this morning?”
“Of course not.” She smiled at him. With the flexibility spawned by fourteen years of motherhood, she looked undaunted. But then again she was fourteen years younger than he was, though he had already proven to both of them that in some areas at least, it was not going to be a problem.
But that night when they got back to the hotel, they were both so tired they fell asleep watching TV, and she didn't wake up until seven the next morning.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked when she saw what time it was. “The sitter's going to kill me! I told her I'd be home at midnight.” India grabbed the phone, leaning a breast enticingly over him, and told a complicated tale about a friend who'd had an accident, and having been in the ICU with her all night. And then she called Gail and asked her to take her car pool. The entire situation was resolved in a matter of minutes, and they settled back into his bed again, and made up for what they hadn't done the night before, with extraordinary vigor.
And then Paul ordered room service for both of them, and she sat across from him wearing only his shirt, and looking gloriously sexy.
“Have you ever thought of an apartment in the city?” he asked cautiously, as she read the Wall Street Journal. She had always read it after Doug left in the morning, and she had continued his subscription after he left her.
“Doug said we'd move back after Sam went to college.”
“I may not live that long,” he said vaguely, and she looked at him cautiously over the paper.
“This must be hard for you,” she said sympathetically. He had only been home for three days, and it wasn't hard yet, but he could see the potential.
“Not yet. But it will be. And you can't keep running back and forth to Westport.” He didn't like to think of her on the road at four o'clock in the morning, or himself either. At least it wasn't snowing. But eventually, it would be.
“There are only three more months of school,” she said practically. But neither of them wanted to face reality at this point. Their relationship had leapt full blown from birth to manhood. It was something to think about, realizing he hadn't fully considered the logistics of her situation, with everything from sitters to car pools. It had been a long time since he'd had to deal with that with Sean, who was thirty-one. And he also remembered that Sean hadn't done much for his love life. He had systematically hated everyone his father dated. Paul hadn't met Serena till Sean was in college. And Sean hadn't liked her then either. It had taken him years to form any kind of friendship with her. And by then, he himself was married. Thinking of him then reminded Paul that he was taking him to dinner that night. It meant he had a night off from the commute to Westport, and on Friday, India was spending the weekend with him in the city.
They finished breakfast and got dressed, and she left with him, when he left the hotel to go to the office. And he smiled at her as she got into her car again and looked up at him in all her devastating blond beauty.
“I think I'm a little crazy, but I love you,” he said, and meant it. And as he watched her drive away, he forced himself not to think of Serena. It was always hardest for him when he left India. When he was with her, he didn't let himself think about Serena. This was still a major adjustment. But he had jumped into it with both feet, and he wasn't sorry.
He mentioned India to Sean that night, and told him about them, and he was surprised when Sean was less than enthused, and almost paternally cautious.
“Isn't it a little soon, Dad?”
“To be dating?” Paul was surprised by his reaction. Even once they made friends, Sean had never been that crazy about Serena. He always thought she was too flashy. And India was anything but that, she was quiet and discreet, and distinguished and unassuming. But Sean hadn't met her, so he didn't know it.
“Maybe,” Sean said, in answer to his question. “It's only been six months, and you were so much in love with Serena.”
“I was, and am. But don't you think I have a right to be with someone?” It was an honest question, and deserved a fair answer.
“Why? At your age, you don't need to get remarried.”
“Who said anything about marriage?” He flinched at his son's words and extrasensory perception. He had been thinking about it only that morning, when contemplating the commute to Westport. There was no way they could do that forever.
“Well, if you don't want to get married, why date? Besides, you have the Sea Star.” It seemed like a reasonable trade-off to him. And Paul was less than amused to realize that, at fifty-seven, his son thought he was too old to be dating.
“Since when are you so interested in yachting? Besides, I just thought you'd be interested in what I'm doing. One of these days, I'd like you to meet her.”
“If you're not going to marry her, Dad, I don't need to meet her,” Sean said bluntly, instantly creating an impossible situation. If Paul introduced India to him now it meant they were getting married. And to provide a little distraction, he told him instead about her work and her enormous talent.
“Great,” Sean said without much interest. “Does she have kids?” Another psychic stroke of genius on his part. Paul nodded vaguely, as Sean honed in on him further. “How many?”
“A few.” Paul said it with a feeling of rising panic, and Sean sensed it.
“How many?” he repeated.
“Four.”
“Young ones?”
“Nine to fourteen.” He decided he might as well tell him. Why hide it?
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe.” He was beginning to wonder.
“You can't even stand my kids for more than ten minutes.”
“Yours are younger. And they cry all the time. Hers don't.”
“Wait. They'll go to jail. They'll get drunk. They'll get into drugs. They'll get pregnant, or maybe she will. Dad, you'll love it.”
“Don't be such a pain in the ass at your age. You didn't.”
“You don't know half the stuff I did. Besides, you didn't let me. Dad, look, at your age, you don't need a woman with four kids. Why can't you find someone a little older?”
“How about Georgia O'Keeffe? Is that old enough for you? She must be in her nineties.”
“I think she's dead,” Sean said without humor. “Come on, be serious. Go back to the boat and relax. I think you're having a midlife crisis.”
“Thank you for your optimism,” Paul said drily, but in spite of what he was saying to his son, Sean had shaken him a little. It was hard to sell a woman with four children. “If I'm having a midlife crisis, by the way, that means you expect me to live to a hundred and fourteen. I'll do my best to oblige you. And no, I'm not senile. She's a good friend, and a nice woman, and I like her. I just thought you'd want to know, that's all. Forget it.”
“No,” Sean said sternly, getting even for all the lectures Paul had given him before, during, and since college, “you forget it.” And with that, they moved on to other subjects, but it was obvious as they left ‘2G that Sean was still worried. He said he'd call his father on the weekend about seeing the kids, and Paul didn't have the heart to tell him he was busy. He just said he'd call him if he didn't go away for the weekend. But Sean knew instantly what that meant. And when he went home to his wife, racked with morning sickness and looking green, he told her his father had lost his marbles. But to her credit, she had the same reaction as her father-in-law, and told her husband not to be so stuffy. His father had a perfect right to do what he wanted, and Sean told her in no uncertain terms to mind her own business.
But the dreams Paul had that night were far worse than anything Sean could have wished on him. He dreamt of Serena all night, and airplanes exploding in midair. Twice he woke and heard her screaming at him about what he'd done, and then he heard her sobbing because he'd been unfaithful to her. And Paul felt ninety when he woke up in the morning. And one thing Sean had said had stuck in his mind like a cactus. What if India got pregnant? The thought of it made him nauseous. And when she called him in the office that afternoon and left the message that she'd be at the hotel to meet him at five-thirty, he had his secretary call back to say he'd be there.
But the moment he saw her, he forgot his nightmares and Sean's warnings. The instant he kissed her, he melted. They wound up in bed before dinnertime, and finally sent for room service at midnight. She was the most bewitching woman he'd ever known, and in spite of how many children she had, he knew he loved her. Worse than that. He was crazy about her. And the weekend they spent together was pure magic.
They walked in Central Park and held hands, went to the Metropolitan, and the movies. They saw a love story that ended badly, and they both cried. They bought books together, and read, and listened to music. They loved all the same things, and she talked with great anticipation about their cruise together on the Sea Star. She shared all her dreams with him, and her fears, as she had on the phone, and by Sunday afternoon, he hated the idea of her leaving, but she had to pick up the children after dinner. And when she drove away again, he couldn't stand the prospect of a night without her.
And Sunday night was worse than Thursday had been. He dreamed that he lay in Serena's arms all night, and she begged him not to let her die, she wanted to stay with him forever. He woke up at three A.M. and sobbed for an hour, racked with guilt over what he was doing. He never went back to sleep, and in the morning he knew he should never have survived her. He couldn't bear to live through it. And when he called India, she sounded so sweet, and she was obviously concerned about him.
He felt like a dead man himself when he left the hotel for the office. He had promised to go to Westport that night, but at six o'clock he called her and told her he couldn't. He just couldn't face her. He needed another night to himself, just to think about Serena, and what he was doing. He thought he'd probably feel better in the morning, and India had promised to drive into the city. She had a sitter who could stay overnight, and she had told the children she was visiting a sick friend, and had to stay over with her. But how often could she do that?
And when she got to the hotel that night, Paul was waiting for her. He looked gray, and India was instantly worried. She asked him what he'd eaten, and if he had a fever, and he told her calmly that he didn't.
“You don't look well, sweetheart,” she said gently. And he felt like a serial killer. After the months they'd shared on the phone, he knew her too well, knew how she thought and what she felt, and everything that she believed in. She believed in hope and dreams and honesty and loyalty and all the best of human emotions. She also believed in happy endings, and this one wasn't. It couldn't be. He had realized in the two days he hadn't spent with her that he was still in love with Serena, and felt sure now that he always would be.
He sat down next to India on the couch and looked at her, and she felt her heart sliding slowly to her feet. All he could see was the golden hair, the huge blue eyes growing bigger by the minute, and her face getting so pale it scared him.
“I think you know what I'm going to say,” he said miserably.
“I don't want to hear it,” she said hoarsely. “What happened?”
“I woke up, India. I came to my senses.”
“No, you didn't,” she said, fighting back tears, “you went crazy.” She knew the words before he said them, and her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was going to leap out of her chest. She was terrified to lose him. She had waited a lifetime for him.
“I was crazy when I told you I loved you. I didn't. I was excited by you. … I wanted it to be everything I thought it was. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever known. But I'm in love with Serena. I always will be. I know it. I can't do this.”
“You're scared. That's all it is. You panicked,” she said, beginning to sound desperate.
“I'm panicking now,” he said honestly, looking at her. He didn't want the responsibility of her. He couldn't do it. He knew it. Sean was right. He was senile. “India, you have four kids. You have a house in Westport.”
“What's that got to do with it? I'll put them up for adoption.” She was half kidding, but her eyes filled with tears instantly. She could see he meant it. She was fighting for her life and he didn't want to hear it. “I love you.”
“You don't even know me. All I am is a voice on the phone. A dream. An illusion.”
“I know you,” she said desperately. “And you know me. This isn't fair.” She started to cry openly and he took her in his arms and held her. He felt like a murderer, but he knew he had to escape her. For his own survival.
“It's better now. It would be worse later,” he said sensibly. “We'll just get attached to each other, and then what? I can't do this. Serena won't let me.”
“She's gone, Paul.” She said it gently, through her tears, even then not wanting to hurt him, while he hurt her. “She wouldn't want you to be unhappy.”
“Yes she would. She would never want me to be with another woman.”
“She was smarter than that. And she loved you. I can't believe you're doing this.” It had been a week. Seven days, and she had given herself to him completely, and now he was telling her it was over. A week ago, two days ago, he had told her how much he loved her. He wanted her to move to the city. He liked her children. He hated the commute, but who didn't? “Can't you give this a chance?”
“No, I can't. I won't. For your sake as well as mine. I'm going back to the boat. My son is right, I'm too old for this. You need someone younger. I can't take on four kids. I can't. When he was that age, Sean almost drove me crazy. I'd forgotten it, now I remember. And that was twenty years ago. I was thirty-seven. Now I'm a hundred. No, India,” he said sternly, looking at her as she cried, but he was doing it for Serena. He owed it to her, he had let her die alone on an airplane. That never should have happened. He should have gone with her. “You've got to go now.” He stood up and pulled India to her feet as she stood in front of him and sobbed. She had never expected this of him, and she hadn't been prepared for it. She had never suspected this would happen. He loved her. She knew it.
“What about Antigua?” she asked through her tears, as though it still mattered. But it was something to hang on to. And then he took that from her too. He wanted it all back now. His heart, his life, their future.
“Forget it,” he said coldly. “Go somewhere else. With a nice guy. I'm not that person. The best of me died with Serena.”
“No, it didn't. I love the best and the worst of you,” she said, and meant it, but he didn't want to hear that either. He wanted nothing more from her. It was over. And then she looked up at him with eyes that tore his heart out.
“What'll I tell the children?”
“Tell them what a bastard I am. They'll believe you.”
“No, they won't. And I don't either. You're just scared. You're scared of being happy.” It was truer than she knew, and truer than he wanted her to see now.
“Go home, India,” he said, and opened the door for her. “Go back to your kids. They need you.”
“So do you,” she said, believing it, and knowing him better than he did. “More than they do.” She stood in the doorway, looking at him for a long time then, sobbing pitifully, and her last words to him were “I love you.”
And as she walked away, he closed the door quietly behind her, and walked into his bedroom. He lay on the bed he had lain on with her, and sobbed as he thought of her. He wanted he back, he wanted her to be part of him, but he knew he couldn't. It was too late for him.
He was gone. Serena had taken him with her. And he owed her this now. He knew it. For not dying with her. For letting her down. He had betrayed her, and he couldn't do it again. He had no right to what India wanted to give him.
And as he lay on his bed and cried, India drove back to Westport, blinded by tears, hysterical. She couldn't believe what had happened. She couldn't believe what he had done to her. It was worse than anything Doug had done. But the difference was she loved him, and she knew he loved her. As she drove home, she was so distraught, so racked with pain, that she never saw the car next to her move out of its lane and cut in front of her. She didn't even have time to think before it hit her. She bounced off the divider, and back again into another lane, as the car spun wildly around her and she hit her head on the steering wheel, and the car stopped finally. There was a salty taste in her mouth and there was blood everywhere, as someone opened the door, and she looked at them, and fainted.