Going Home Page 8

  “Well . . . all right. For Sam. But stay out of my way. I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have your bedroom back, as of right now.” I swung my badly packed suitcase down on the floor and walked out of the room.

  “I’ll cook dinner, Gill. You take it easy. You look rough.”

  “I feel rough, thank you. But I’ll do the cooking for Sam. I’m not hungry, and you can take care of yourself.” I walked outside to check on Sam before making dinner. She was still devotedly watering Chris’s plants and showed no sign that she had heard the fracas. But I was afraid she had.

  “Sam, whatcha want to eat, love? How about some cold chicken?”

  “That’s fine, Mommy.” I knew then that she had heard, at least some of it, because she was being inordinately good-natured. But I was grateful.

  “You’re a good girl.”

  “Thanks, Mommy. Is Uncle Crits gonna eat with us?”

  “No, he’s not.” My mouth tightened uncontrollably over the words.

  “Okay.”

  She ate the chicken almost soundlessly and then put her pajamas on by herself and told me she was ready for bed. My heart went out to her as I tucked her in. I hated to have her think, yet again, that men wandered through our lives only to go away again. Or have me walk out on them. It didn’t seem fair. And I hated Chris for making it all happen again, and myself for letting it. I should never have moved in with him in Bolinas, and I felt nothing but regret as I kissed Sam goodnight and turned off the light.

  “See you in the morning, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.” A tear crept down my cheek as I walked back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and I felt as though all of me were sagging. It had been such a rotten afternoon. And I couldn’t see how tomorrow would be much better.

  “How are you feeling, Gill?” I hadn’t heard him come into the kitchen.

  “Fine, thank you. Would you mind listening for Sam? I’d like to go for a walk.”

  “Yeah, sure. Okay.” I felt his eyes on me as I quietly closed the door and walked down the road toward the beach. It was a quiet night and the air was still warm. The fog mustn’t have come in. But I had been too busy earlier to notice. I looked up and saw the stars brightly etched in the sky above, but even that didn’t make me feel better.

  The sea was lapping gently at the beach when I got there, and I lay down on the cool sand, to think. Or not to think. I didn’t really care what I did. I just wanted to be alone, and away from Chris. And as far away from the house as I could.

  I watched a stray dog amble slowly past and sniff at the water, and then, without thinking, I began to take off my clothes. I slipped into the water, naked, and swam slowly toward the land spit at the end of Stinson Beach, remembering the day Chris and I had crossed that stretch of water with the horse from the Carson shooting. The day we’d met. The first day . . . that had been three months before, and this was such a different day.

  Once on the other side, I lay on the sand in the bright moonlight and wondered what would come next, and if I’d ever trust anyone again. It seemed as though I lay there for hours, and then I heard footsteps in the sand behind me and turned in sudden fear.

  “Gill?” It was Chris.

  “What are you doing here? You said you’d stay with Sam.” He could have at least done that much.

  “She’s fine. She’s sound asleep, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing to say. How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I just knew. I would have come to the same place too.”

  “I didn’t think you’d have cared that much.” The tears started out of the corners of my eyes again as I said the words.

  “I only wish you knew how much I do care, Gill.” He sat down on the sand beside me, and I could see his wet flesh glisten in the dark.

  “I’d better get back to Sam.” I didn’t want to wait and be told anything.

  “Sit with me for just a minute . . . please.” There was something in his voice that caught at my heart, almost the way Sam’s quiet good behavior had when she went to bed.

  “Why, Chris? What’s the point? We’ve said it all.”

  “No, we haven’t. Or if we have, then let me just be with you here, quietly, for a few minutes. I can’t stand the thought of your leaving me.” I shut my eyes hard and squelched a sob before it rose in my throat. “Want to take a walk?” I nodded silently, and we set off down the beach, side by side, but far apart. I still felt terribly alone.

  “We’d better go back, Chris. Sam.” We had walked halfway to the point at the other end, and we still had to walk back to the inlet, swim back to the Bolinas Beach, and then get back to the house. It would take at least a half hour to accomplish, and I had really begun to worry about Sam being alone in the house. She’d be frightened if she woke up and there was no one there. It wasn’t dangerous, but it still wasn’t nice.

  “Okay, Gill. I wanted to stop at our cove.” His voice sounded like that of a small boy who has just suffered an immense disappointment, but his words were like a slap in the face.

  “Chris, how could you? You really don’t understand a goddam thing.” The peace of the silent walk on the moonlit beach was totally interrupted, and I began to run toward the inlet. When I got there, I dove into the water and swam as hard as I could toward the other side. But he reached the beach even before I did and he swung me into his arms and held me tight when I got out of the water.

  “You just shut up, goddam you, Gillian Forrester. I did a lousy thing today. But I love you, and if you don’t know that by now you aren’t worth a damn.” He crushed his mouth down hard onto mine and his kiss touched my very soul.

  “Chris. . . .”

  “Shut up. We have to go back to Sam.” He took my hand firmly in his, walked me over to my pile of clothes, and watched me dress as he slid into his jeans. They were all he’d worn.

  When I was dressed, he took me by the hand again, and we walked back to the house without saying another word. The lights were on, and all was quiet when we got in. I checked and was relieved to see that Sam was still asleep. And as I walked away from her room I saw ours. Chris had tidied up, the bed was made with fresh sheets, and there were flowers from the garden in a vase.

  “Are you coming to bed?” He was sitting on the edge of it, and smiled a tiny smile.

  “You did a nice job.” There was no sign to remind me of what had happened that afternoon, except what was already lodged in my head, like an aching splinter.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Are you coming to bed?” He flicked out the light, and I stood there in the darkness, wondering what to do. I didn’t want to get into the bed but I didn’t want to leave him either. I wondered if he had been right when he had said earlier that if I had come home as late as I’d planned I wouldn’t have known, and nothing would have changed. Except I hadn’t come home as planned.

  He turned over on his side in the darkness and I walked slowly into the room and began to take off my clothes. I would sleep with him, but I would not make love. Maybe he didn’t want to anyway. He had had his for the day. The memory made me cringe again as I slipped between the sheets, turned my back to him, and fell asleep, exhausted.

  I woke up next morning to the smell of bacon frying, and looked at the clock. It was 5 A.M. and it was foggy outside.

  “Good morning, sleeping beauty. Breakfast’s on the table.” I felt more like sleeping ugly than sleeping beauty, and the smell of the bacon made me feel sick. The nausea I felt reminded me again of the day before. My nerves were obviously falling apart.

  “Hi, Mommy. We made you waffers.”

  “Waffles. And you’re all dressed. Looks like you two have been up all night.” And I felt as though I had, but I had to put a good face on it, for Sam at least.

  I got up and brushed my teeth and felt a little better after that, and the waffles were good. I ate two and Sam was thrilled.

  “Aren’t they delicious, Mommy?”

  “Terrific, Sam.” I cast a brief glance at Chris,
but he was busy cleaning up the kitchen. “What’s everybody doing up so early?”

  “I have to be on location at six, and if you still want to go to the city we’ve got to get moving. I’m already late.” He looked at me pointedly across the room.

  “Fine. Thanks. I’ll get Sam’s stuff packed up, and I’ll be dressed in ten minutes.” Blue jeans and a shirt. I had nothing to do in town anyway. Except congratulate Joe Tramino for his good judgment.

  Sam looked downcast as we left, and I tried to get her to sing songs as we wound our way over the mountain road. I was grateful for the fog; I didn’t have to see long sweeping views of Stinson and Bolinas stretching behind me as we left. All we could see was a brief patch of road ahead of us, and the fog-crowned hills stretching above us.

  The roads were deserted at that hour, and we were in the city in thirty minutes. Chris pulled up in front of my apartment and gave Sam a piggyback ride to the front door.

  “I’ll be seeing you, podner.” She looked as though she were about to cry, and then he leaned down and whispered something in her ear which sparked a smile on her face like a sunburst.

  “Okay, Uncle Crits. Good-bye.” She ran into the house and slammed the screen door as I turned to Chris.

  “What did you tell her?” I wanted to know. I didn’t want him telling her any lies about his coming back. “I want to know.”

  “None of your business. It’s just between the two of us. And I have a message for you too. Only that this isn’t the end. And don’t waste your time thinking this is it, because it just plain isn’t. I won’t let it be. Do you hear me?” He stared into my eyes for one long moment and then kissed my forehead before he turned his back, walked away, and drove off.

  He had made a big mistake. For me, it was all over.

  I dropped Sam off at her old playgroup at nine and was pleased to see that she didn’t seem to mind being back. And then I went home to unpack.

  I also had to call all the advertising agencies I did free-lance work for and tell them I’d moved back to town. And then what? Cry, maybe? Yeah, why the hell not?

  But as it turned out, I sat around the house drinking coffee until I picked Sam up at school and we went to the zoo. I couldn’t face the suitcases or the calls to the agencies, it was too depressing. We ate dinner at the Hippo on the way home, and Sam and I had a minor fight over the menu.

  “But I don’t like gorillas, Mommy. They’re scary.”

  “It’s just a hamburger, Sam. They only call it a gorillaburger.”

  She was dubious, but she finally decided to try it, threatening me with an instant walkout if it turned out to be scary. Apparently it wasn’t, and the hamburger and French fries disappeared in minutes, while I tried hard to hide a smile.

  We went home in the fading light of what had turned out to be a very pleasant summer day, and I gave her her bath and put her to bed. But I knew that sooner or later it would catch up with me. Chris was gone.

  “May I come in?” My heart soared as I saw the shaggy blond mane poke through the door. “You should lock your door.”

  “And you should listen to what people tell you. I told you to stay away.” But I was so glad to see him there that I felt like throwing my arms around him. His absence had weighed on me like a hundred-pound backpack all day.

  “You’re full of shit, Gill. And anyway, I had to come back. I promised Sam.” He had already sprawled on the couch and was looking pleased.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I’m taking you both back to Bolinas tomorrow. I figured the day in town would do you good.”

  “It did. And we’re staying.”

  “In that case, so am I. But it’s asinine to let the place in Bolinas just sit there empty.”

  “So don’t let it. Go back. I don’t care where you stay.”

  “Oh really?” He had gotten off the couch and was walking slowly to the chair where I was sitting, smoking a cigarette, and shaking inside. “Well, it just so happens that I care plenty where you are, Mrs. Gillian Forrester. And I want you to be with me. Have you gotten that message yet?” He was leaning over my chair, with a hand firmly clenched on each arm of the chair. His face was lowering slowly toward mine and I knew that he was going to kiss me. “Chris, don’t!” I shoved at his chest but he kept right on coming at me anyway, and then he kissed me. “Stop it!”

  “No, you stop it. This has gone far enough. I’ll eat crow for the next week. But I’m not going to let this thing get out of proportion. So get that into your head.” And with that, he swept me out of the chair, carried me into the bedroom, and dumped me on the bed.

  “Chris Matthews, get out of this house!” I stood on the bed and shouted at him, but he swung his arm gently in the air and knocked me down on the bed. And then in one swift movement, his body was on mine, and the end was over. We had begun again.

  “Are we going back to Bolinas this morning or not? The weather looks lousy, by the way.” We were in bed, and we could see from the window that the fog was in again.

  “I don’t see much point, Chris. I have three jobs next week, and Richard is picking up Sam on Friday anyway. Let’s stay in.”

  “Okay.” He was being very amenable.

  “But I want to stay here, not Sacramento Street.” Chris’s place.

  “Why?”

  “For a number of reasons. For one thing, there’s no point feeding Sam stuff that’s going to make waves with her father. I’d just as soon she not be able to tell him we’ve moved out of our place and into yours. It was different in Bolinas. And . . . well, the other stuffs not important.” But it was to me. I just didn’t want to be someplace where I’d know he had already slept with a hundred different girls. Some of them in the past three months. Even Bolinas still had a faint sour taste. I wanted to stay at my place in the city.

  “I think you’re silly. But I’ll go along with it. I’ve got a lot of work to do anyway.”

  So we spent the next week in the city, living at my place, and putting the pieces of the broken dish back together. I was surprised how easy it was, but that was because of Chris. It was impossible to stay mad at him, he had the charm of an irresistible six-year-old boy, and besides, I loved him.

  At the end of the following week, I got Sam’s bags packed again, shooed Chris out of the house, and we sat down to wait for Richard, Sam’s father. He had called to tell me that he had to go to Los Angeles on business and he would fly up to San Francisco to pick her up at noon on July 15. Which meant he planned to get to the house by two o’clock on that date. And when Richard said that, he meant it. He was as irritatingly punctual as ever.

  It was then July 15, and he arrived promptly at two-ten, looking painfully neat and well put-together in a dark gray suit, with a navy and white striped tie, white shirt, and highly polished black shoes. It was an odd feeling to watch him come in the door and realize that this had been the man I had been married to and had once gone home to at the end of each day. He seemed like someone from another world. And I suppose I did too. I was no longer the Gillian he had known.

  “She’s all set.” I tried to keep my voice firm and wear a cheerful face for Sam’s benefit. But I hated to see her leave for six weeks. The days would seem so quiet and empty without her.

  “You look well, Gillian. You’ve been out in the sun?”

  “Yes. Across the bay.” I kept it deliberately vague, and was struck again by the inane conversations we had had since the divorce. What did we used to talk about? I really couldn’t remember.

  “I have a list of where Samantha and I will be for the next six weeks. And if you move around, please send my secretary your itinerary so we can reach you in case of emergency.” His face looked like a dry bone.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be hearing from me. I’ll be calling Sam.” He didn’t look overwhelmingly pleased at that, and I stooped to give Sam a giant hug and a big mushy kiss as she stood at the door.

  “Good-bye, Mommy. Send me some pretty cards . . .
and say good-bye to Uncle Crits!” . . . Whoops . . . I saw Richard’s eyes register the name and look toward me.

  “Nice to see you, Richard. Have a good trip. Good-bye, sweetheart. Take care.”

  I waved as the limousine pulled away from the curb and Sam’s small face shrank at the rear window as she waved back. It was going to be lonely without her.

  The phone was ringing as I came back into the house, and I picked it up, grateful for someone to talk to.

  “Can I come home yet? Has the big bad wolf gone?”

  “Yes, and so has Sam. I feel lousy.”

  “I figured you would. I’ll be over in ten minutes and we can leave for Bolinas as soon as you want.” Suddenly the memory of the girl Chris had slept with didn’t bother me as much, and I wanted to go back. The sour taste had faded in the course of the week in town, and I wanted to get out of my apartment. It would be gloomy as all hell without Sam clattering around.

  Chris was as good as his word and was standing in the living room ten minutes later with a large bottle of wine in each hand.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d want red wine or white. So I brought both. Want a drink?”

  “You bet. Several. And then let’s go.” We each had two glasses of the red wine, and then we were off. Back to Bolinas. Alone this time, and in remarkably good spirits.

  9

  The next month was once again like something out of a dream. Neither of us got many calls to go into the city and we spent most of our time hanging around the beach, lying in a hammock under the big tree next to the house. And making love.

  I had one job in town during the entire month, and Chris had two. Which made finances tight, but we were happy. I pitched in my alimony, and Chris didn’t seem to mind the financial assistance.

  We had a glorious time. I got into doing some painting, Chris took what seemed like a thousand rolls of film of me in the nude, and the days flew. Brief, frozen letters from Richard told me that Sam was well, and she seemed happy when I spoke to her.