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"Congratulations, what a memory!"
"I couldn't hope to do theatre if I didn't. And that reply had remained impressed on my soul. But let’s get back to the point I was making ‘I'm just more prepared than you are to put up with it.’ Would you say that again now? It seems to me that I’m reacting better than you to the pain."
"Really?! And what makes you think that?"
"The fact that I'm trying to improve myself while you're just getting worse."
"Well it's easy to improve when you start from the bottom..." He stopped. For crying out loud!
The phrase had escaped him. This time he had struck her weak point: self-esteem.
He heard his friend inhale.
"Forgive me Lucy, I didn't want to be so offensive, really..." he hurried to say, putting his hand on her arm.
She looked down at the goblet she was holding between her fingers, as if she were contemplating the bubbles rising from the bottom to the surface, then looked at him again in the face, her eyes shining. "Until recently, you would never have said such a nasty thing to me. I would maybe, but not you. Doesn't that tell you anything?"
Sonny sighed. "It tells me that perhaps it’s better to finish this conversation and see each other again at a more appropriate time. Today it’s obvious I’m not in the mood and I come out with unfortunate remarks, that’s why I would have preferred if you’d phoned me instead of just dropping in unexpected. Much as I’m happy to see you, there are times when it’s better to be alone. That doesn't mean I’m not fond of you." He smiled at her.
She took the glass and bottle out of his hands.
"Good! The next time we meet I’ll make sure that you bring the champagne to me. Right now I can't imagine which happy occasion you’ll be celebrating, but whatever it is, I'll be happy to share it with you." She turned on her heels and left him there in the garden, by the fountain.
Lucy placed the bottle and the glasses on the bar in the living room, then with a forced smile said goodbye to Louise, who went to open the front door for her. When she got into the car the smile disappeared, leaving her eyes free to express her emotions with tears.
She didn't know what else to do. Her attempts to shake Sonny out of that form of apathy hidden behind an inadequate and inconsistent behaviour compared to the person he’d always been, had proved useless each time. He hadn’t been himself for a long time.
It all started when he had discovered that his fiancée Leen, who then became his wife, had cheated on him with Hans. Later, witnessing her degradation towards alcoholism and gambling, his downward spiral had continued, culminating in the day that his little girl lost her life in a car accident, precisely because of that woman who, instead of protecting her as a mother should have done, had pulled her with her on the road to ruin.
Esther's arrival in Sonny's life had made the situation worse.
Lucy was unable to do any more than she was doing for that man. She had become close to him because, sharing the same pain, they had often found themselves dating to help each other overcome their own crisis. But Sonny did not want or could not forget. It's not that she had forgotten that she had fallen in love with Esther's brother, far from it; but she tried to think about it as little as possible and move on, without letting the past trap her like a fish in a net.
Jack hadn't even said goodbye to her before he disappeared from her life. Obviously she didn't matter enough to him. Nothing at all, actually!
Instead, for the first time in her young life, she had fallen seriously in love.
"Jack, wherever you are..." she said aloud. "Fuck you!" she shouted then, pressing her foot on the accelerator.
9
Sitting at her desk, pen in hand, Loreley phoned the doctor and set up an appointment for the last week of the month. As Legrand had told her, it was pointless to hurry, but at least it was done. She drew a big "x" on the calendar, so the day of the visit was always visible, and also entered the date in the calendar on her mobile phone. Then she opened her e-mail. There was a lot of commercial mail, advertising, a couple of jobs, two from the bank And the last... from Dr. Jacques Legrand!
She clicked on it.
Hello Miss Lehmann,
I am writing to ask how the convalescence is going. The head wound? What about the knee? Keep the brace on it until goes down completely and you have no more pain when you put weight on your leg.
I'm thinking about taking a few days off, for a holiday abroad. Who knows! I hope your offer is still open. Jacques Legrand.
She smiled. Anything could happen.
"Good news?" asked Sarah as she came into the room.
Loreley looked up from the computer. The secretary was looking at her standing still on the threshold, holding a binder tight to her chest that looked bigger than her, petite and frail.
"What have you got for me?"
Sarah looked down at the papers in her hand. "Oh, no. These are for the boss. I saw that you were smiling and I was intrigued; smiles have been rather rare lately."
"It's not a good time," she confessed.
"I realized that, Ethan is worried about you."
Loreley sensed she was being scrutinized by those eyes which were so dark it was difficult to distinguish the pupil from the iris. There were a few moments of silence.
"If you need me, I'm here..." her friend said, adjusting the large reading glasses better on her nose.
"Thank you, I'll keep it in mind."
When Sarah had gone, Loreley leaned back in her chair. From what the secretary had said, she suspected that Ethan was aware of the situation between herself and John. Maybe he knew where he was, too. She would extort that information from him at any cost; but she had to get him alone.
The occasion presented itself the next day. He had just come in to show her the article in the New York Times, where the Wallace case was mentioned. Public opinion seemed to have already condemned him, inflicting as much punishment as possible on him, before the trial even began.
As she read the news, she shook her head. If she, deep in her heart also condemned him, how could she hope the jury would believe that man? She had to defend him and she was not doing it the correct way and in the right spirit.
She decided she would go and speak to the Wallace family to get as much information as possible about Peter's experience and personality. Yes, she had to dig into their lives.
"Loreley, are you with us?" asked Ethan, standing in front of her desk.
She closed the newspaper and handed it back to him.
"Sorry, I got distracted reading the article."
"I was saying that if you want me to help you with this case, I will."
"That’s kind of you, but you already have your own work to do, and I want to get through this on my own."
The man gazed at her with an insistent message of indulgence, mixed with compassion which made her uncomfortable. She go up from her chair and faced him, leaning against the edge of her desk, arms folded.
"Instead of looking at me like that, why don't you tell me what you're really thinking?”
"I don't understand."
"Come on, you know damn well that John has left home... and maybe you know why." She was forcing his hand, but she had no choice if she wanted to get something out of him.
He scratched his head, a gesture he repeated whenever he felt ill at ease.
"Come on, Ethan! Please."
The man sighed. "What do you want me to say? I don't know what to think and it's not for me to judge. I'm just as messed up as you are with my love life, and that's enough for me."
"Are you talking about your wife? How much longer are you going to allow her to use your son as leverage? You must not let her do it any longer."
"If only it were so simple! If I’m not careful about how I behave with Stephany and what I say to her, I risk making things difficult for Lukas. And for myself. I'm afraid she's going to take him away from New York and go back to her own town."
"Don't give in. Don't give her any more money, she's already bleeding you dry. Try telling her to do what she wants. I really want to see if she’d leave. And to do what, then?"
He shook his head and remained silent. She felt sorry for him and dropped the matter.
"Do you know that Johnny dumped me in Paris, leaving me there alone?" She pointed to the wound on her head. "I did this running after him. I fell down the stairs."
"In fact I wondered how you had hurt yourself."
"Kilmer knew. But now let's go back to the topic that interests me most right now. Johnny left home without even a phone call letting me know his intentions, or to give me a chance to defend myself." She put her hands on her hips. "You know what? I don't know if he deserves an explanation, or even if it’s right to give him a second chance to rectify his behaviour!"
"There’s nothing right in all this and I don't want to take sides with either of you." He tightened his lips and took a deep breath. "Look, I’m fond of you both and it hurts me to see you like this. He's not doing well either, I can assure you. I'm sorry but I can't tell you anything else; talk to John."
"And how do I talk to him if I don't even know where to find him?"
Ethan did not respond immediately, he seemed to be measuring the floor tiles with small nervous steps, back and forth, his hands in his pockets; until he stopped again in front of her to look her straight in the eye. "John is in Los Angeles."
"Thank you, Ethan."
"Good luck!"
***
The Wallace's' home was a three-story red-brick building on 71st Street, near the intersection with West End Avenue. Loreley didn't even have to take the car to get there, because it was just over two hundred yards from her home. Before going to see her client's parents, she had gone home from the office to freshen up and change the shirt she was wearing with her suit,.
The woman who opened the door looked at her annoyed, and Loreley realized that her son had not let her know she was coming. It was only after she introduced herself and explained the reason for the visit that she saw her smile and was led inside.
The living room where she was welcomed was decorated in a sober style, which was a little old-fashioned. There was no sign of extravagance, not even in the colours of the upholstery. Everything seemed to be in place, so tidy it seemed almost manic.
Loreley sat down on a cream velvet sofa, with a row of matching cushions resting against the back of it.
"Can I offer you some tea, Miss Lehmann?" the woman asked, standing stiffly in front of her. She was wearing a black dress, just below the knee, mid-heeled shoes and here straight brown hair was gathered at the nape of her neck. She had no make-up, but seemed ready to go out. And in a hurry, at that! The rather rushed mannerisms confirmed this.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Wallace; I'm fine."
She heard the front door unlock and then some footsteps. Shortly after, a tall thin boy appeared at the door. He looked to be in his thirties and resembled Mrs Wallace, so Loreley deduced that it was Michael, Peter's brother. He didn’t look like Peter’s brother, who must have taken after his father.
. "Hello, Counselor Lehmann. I hope you haven’t had to wait too long." He turned to Lorely and shook her hand.
"Michael, why didn’t you tell me anything about this? Did you do it on purpose?" the mother intervened. "What are you hiding from me?"
The boy rolled his eyes. "I've been busy and I forgot to let you know. Now don't start seeing intrigues in everything again."
His mother glared at him.
"I didn't know you had to go out right now," he apologized.
Mrs. Wallace did not seem totally convinced, but her son was unapologetic. "Oh, alright!" She turned to Loreley. "I'm happy to have met my son's lawyer. I'm sorry I didn't come to court, but I won’t miss the next hearing. Now I must go out. As you just heard, I have a commitment," and saying this she left the room.
Loreley sat back on the couch, and Michael picked up a padded chair and sat opposite her.
"I’m sorry. My mother has her paranoia."
"I would have preferred to speak with your mother too, I think I told you."
The young man folded his arms and crossed his ankles. "It's better to leave my mother out of this conversation."
Loreley frowned. "Why?"
"You see, she’s a woman with very firm convictions and a strong sense of morality, or what it is she means by that word. Let's just say she’s a bit of a goody two-shoes. In her opinion, Peter is a layabout, only capable of creating problems."
"Really?"
"Of course, it all depends on what a mother expects of her child, though mine has always demanded too much. But I must admit that this time the problem that Peter has created is really enormous, greater than him... and us."
"And what is your relationship with your brother?"
"Well, when I was little, Peter behaved as if I was the one who took Mom's attention away from him, and for spite he would pinch me so I would annoy her with my crying; or he secretly drank the milk in my bottle, which Mom would leave in my hands once I was old enough to hold it myself. Every now and then, as a boy, he would break something and blame me for the damage, to make her scold me."
"They’re all behaviours that occur in any ordinary family: the older brother very jealous of the younger one and frightened that the parents may love the little one more than him."
"Yes, that’s true, but Peter exaggerated those behaviours. Despite the way he picked on me, though, he was my idol. I tried to imitate him in everything: in the way he dressed, combed his hair, interacted with girls..."
He paused as if to reflect, then shook his head smiling.
"He had a lot of savoir-faire and a way of behaving that went beyond his good looks, which already made him a winner! But trying to be like my brother didn't work for me. I envied him, and over time I even started to hold grudges against him because of that. In retaliation, I tried to be the first in my class at school. I was able to overcome my laziness when it came to studying and discovered that it was easy for me to get good grades, which until then had been rather poor. I had achieved my goal: my parents praised me and humiliated him for his mediocre grades. It's horrible, I know, and I'm not proud of those years. I haven't thought about it in a long time."
So much for the younger brother in adoration! During his teenage years, Michael seemed to have been not only jealous, but begrudging as well, Loreley thought, settling back better on the cushions. But she didn't know, though, where that young man wanted to go with this.
"And how did your brother react?"
"Peter preferred not to say anything in those situations, it was the only form of respect he had for our parents. He would take the lectures in silence, but when we were alone, he would get angry: ‘Mom and Dad just can't understand that I, unlike you, I don't want to go mouldy inside the walls of a college,’ he said. ‘If you like to study, go right ahead, good for you. I want to create and live in the open air.’ That was the concept he would often repeat after the usual discussion about school."
"So he didn't realize that you were striving to earn high grades just to get back at him."
"No, I don't think so, he never said anything about it."
"Peter didn't want to go to college, so what was he doing?"
"My brother had a flair for art and he painted. And not just on canvas, but on street pavements too, and on the walls of buildings. It's rare, though, for anyone to make a living as an artist right away. Mom and Dad kept telling him that, but he didn't give a damn and never tried to change things. He said that on the one hand he found it convenient because I was there to channel all their expectations, so he could be free to go his own way."
If it was true that Peter had an unhealthy jealousy towards his younger brother as a child, it didn’t mean that he continued to be that way when he was an adult. She must maintain pressure on that point. For the moment all she had understood about him was that he possessed a character which was at odds with the kind of malice and instinct for violence needed to beat a woman to death.
