Fools die

Book VII
Chapter 45

A week later I called Janelle to thank her for getting me on the plane. I got her answering machine voice disguised in a French accent, asking me to leave a message.

When I spoke, her real voice was there, breaking in.

“Who are you ducking?” I said.

Janelle was laughing. “If you knew how your voice sounded,” she said. “So sour…”

I laughed too.

“I was ducking your friend Osano,” she said. “He keeps calling me.”

I felt a sick feeling in my stomach. I wasn’t surprised. But

I liked Osano so much and he knew how I felt about Janelle.

I hated the idea that he would do that to me. And then I didn’t really give a shit. It was no longer important.

“Maybe he was just trying to find out where I was,” I said.

“No,” Janelle said. “Alter I put you on the plane, I called him and told him what happened. He was worried about you, but I told him you were OK. Are you?”

“Yes,” I said.

She didn’t ask me any questions about what had happened when I got home. I loved that about her. Her knowing I wouldn’t want to talk about it. And I knew she would never tell Osano about what happened that morning when I got the news about Artie, how I fell apart.

I tried to act cool. “Why are you ducking him? You enjoyed his company at dinner when we were together. I’d think you’d jump at the chance of meeting him again.”

There was a pause at the other end, and then I heard a tone in her voice that showed she was angry. It became very calm. The words were precise. As if she were pulling back a bow to send her words like arrows.

“That’s true,” she said, “and the first time he called I was delighted and we went out to dinner together. He was great fun.”

Not believing the answer I would get, I asked out of some remaining jealousy, “Did you go to bed with him?”

Again there was the pause. I could almost hear the bow’s twang as she sent off the arrow.

“Yes,” she said.

Neither of us said anything. I felt really lousy, but we had our rules. We could never reproach each other anymore, just take our revenge.

Very shiftily but automatically I said, “So how was it?”

Her voice was very bright, very cheery as if she were talking about a movie. “It was fun. You know he makes such a big deal out of going down on you that it builds up your ego.”

“Well,” I said casually, “I hope he’s better at it than I am.”

Again there was the long pause. And then the bow snapped and the voice was hurt and rebellious. “You have no right to be angry,” she said. “You have no goddamn right to be angry about what I do with other people. We settled that before.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I'm not angry.” And I wasn’t. I was more than that. At that moment I gave her up as someone I loved. How many times had I told Osano how much I loved Janelle? And Janelle knew how I cared about Osano. They had both betrayed me. There was no other word for it. The funny thing was that I wasn’t angry with Osano lust with her.

“You are angry,” she said, as if I were being unreasonable.

“No, really I’m not,” I said. She was paying me off for my being with my wife. She was paying me off for a million things, but if I hadn’t asked her that specific question about going to bed, she wouldn’t have told me. She wouldn’t have been that cruel. But she wouldn’t lie to me anymore. She had told me that once, and now she was backing it up. What she did was none of my business.

“I’m glad you called,” she said. “I’ve missed you. And don’t be mad about Osano. I won’t see him again.”

“Why not?” I said. “Why shouldn’t you?”

“Oh, shit,” she said. “He was fun, but he couldn’t keep it up. Oh, shit, I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you that.” She laughed.

Now, being a normal jealous lover, I was delighted to hear that my dearest friend was partially impotent. But I just said carelessly, “Maybe it was you. He’s had a lot of devoted females in New York.”

Her voice was gay and bright. “God,” she said, “I worked hard enough. I could have brought a corpse back to life.” She laughed cheerfully.

So now, as she meant me to, I had a vision of her ministering to an invalid Osano, kissing and sucking at his body, her blond hair flying. I felt very sick.

I sighed. “You hit too hard,” I said. “I quit. Listen, I want to thank you again for taking care of me. I can’t believe you got me in that tub.”

“That’s my gym class,” Janelle said. “I’m very strong, you know.” Then her voice changed. “I’m awfully sorry about Artie. I wish I could have gone back with you and taken care of you.”

“Me too,” I said. But the truth was that I was glad that she couldn’t. And I was ashamed that she had seen me break down. I felt in a curious way that she could never feel the same way about me again.

Her voice came very quietly over the phone. “I love you,” she said.

I didn’t answer.

“Do you still love me?” she said.

Now it was my turn. “You know I’m not allowed to say things like that.”

She didn’t answer.

“You’re the one that told me that a married man should never tell a girl he loves her unless he’s ready to leave his wife. In fact, he’s not allowed to tell her that unless he’s left his wife.”

Finally Janelle’s voice came over the phone. It was all choked with angered breaths.

“Fuck you,” she said, and I could hear the phone slamming down.

I would have called her back, but then she could let that phony French-accented voice answer. “Mademoiselle Lambert isn’t at home. Could you please leave your name?” So I thought, Fuck you, too. And I felt great. But I knew we weren’t through yet.