Даниэла Стил - All That Glitters

“He’s never going to be what you want, Coco. Be careful that he doesn’t take up space and keep you from meeting anyone real who might be there full-time. Relationships like that are dangerous. They feed you enough to keep you satisfied and closed off to other people, when they’re not really there in the way you want them to be. They take up real estate without being candidates for a life together.”

“That describes it perfectly. But I don’t want anyone else right now anyway.”

“You never will if you create a world specially designed for him, tailor-made.”

“He’s brilliant, Sam.”

“I know he is, but he’s not eligible for real life. He doesn’t want that.” She nodded. Ian said it himself, but his mind was so intoxicating and addictive to be around. She was hooked, and she didn’t care how little of him she got. It was always enough, and so much better and more interesting than what she’d have gotten from anyone else.

He hailed a cab for her then, to cross the park to her parents’ apartment. She and Sam used to try to signal each other with mirrors catching the sunlight, but it had never worked, they were too far apart on opposite sides of the park. She had always been afraid that they’d burn Central Park down if the mirrors had worked.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, as she got into the cab and looked back at him with a smile. “Thank you for coming from London.”

“I’d come from the moon if you needed me,” she reminded him. She wondered on the way home what their life would have been like if they had wound up together. Silly and fun, and crazy and smart. But it never could have happened. His mother would have killed her. No Christian girl was going to get her son. The idea of romance had never occurred to either one of them. They loved being best friends.

—

The memorial service was at Congregation Ohab Zedek on the Upper West Side the next day. It was as long as Sam had said it would be. The cantor sang beautifully, and the congregants knew all the prayers. She stood quietly remembering his father, and her parents, and hoped they were in a better place where hearts didn’t get broken and people who loved each other didn’t lose each other, and no one got disappointed. She hoped that Bethanie and Sam’s son would make it a better world one day that was a little closer to Heaven than what they had now.

—

Coco spent four days in New York, and didn’t visit his apartment again. She didn’t want to wear out her welcome with his mother, or crowd Tamar, who looked nervous when Coco was around.

She and Sam met for a walk along Central Park West the night before she left. There was no reason for her to stay, and it made her too sad being at the apartment. It seemed so empty now, with both of her parents gone. London was a clean slate for her. It was easier.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back to school?” he asked her.

“I don’t know. I don’t know that I need to. I’m enjoying the business with Leslie and it’s doing well. I can’t see myself in journalism anymore.”

“I can’t see myself in accounting anymore either. But it’s my show now.”

“Maybe you can make the changes you wanted to, and he wouldn’t let you.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. Tamar said she’d help me, but she’ll be busy with the baby. My mom said she’d babysit. Sabra is having a baby too, but my mom wants nothing to do with them. She’s a stubborn woman. Rebecca is thinking about becoming a nun. That even shocked me. She’s more religious than my mother. I think my whole family is a little crazy,” he said, grinning. “I don’t think my mother would survive having a daughter who’s a nun.”

“There were some very interesting Jewish activists who became nuns in World War II, like Saint Edith Stein. I was always fascinated by her. She saved a lot of people and died in Auschwitz. I thought she was much more worthy than the traditional saints. I read a book about her.”

“At least you didn’t become a nun.” He smiled at her.

“Maybe I should when Bethanie grows up. I can’t see myself in a traditional couple anymore. The ones you tell me I should be with bore me, and the intriguing, unusual guys, the flash, as you put it, burn you every time.”

“Just make sure that Ian Kingston doesn’t burn you. I worry about that. He’s damaged and dangerous.”

“Maybe that’s what makes him so interesting. Maybe I’m like that now too, after my parents, and Nigel, and having Bethanie on my own. I’m not exactly traditional anymore either.”

“You’re reliable. I know I can always count on you. You’re just traditional enough for the right man. A little eccentricity adds some spice to life.” She couldn’t see how Tamar added spice to his. She was as spicy as rice pudding. But it was what he had chosen, and it was too late to challenge it now. She was a bright girl, she just had no personality and no style and he did. In biblical terms, Coco thought he was hiding his light under a bushel. And Tamar was the bushel. But it was no longer up to Coco to question it, with a baby on the way. He thanked her again for coming all the way from London.

“Maybe I’ll come back and visit when you have the baby. I can’t wait to see him,” she said, and they hugged when she left him, and she waved from the cab as they drove away.

She was awake for most of that night in her parents’ apartment, thinking about them, and looking at old pictures that were still in frames around the apartment. She put several of them in her suitcase to take with her. She didn’t know why, but when she left for London the next morning, with her baby, she had the feeling that she wouldn’t be back again, or not for a long time. She had finally accepted that her parents weren’t coming back again. They were gone. In a strange way it made her feel free.

Chapter 15

When Coco got back to London, Ian was eager to see her. He came over that night, and they made love for hours after Bethanie fell asleep. She was a good sleeper, and slept through most of the night. Coco loved being with her, and in spite of his claims of not liking children, Ian had fun with her too. He spoke to her as though she was a very small adult who did not speak the language but understood every word he was saying to her.

He explained to her all about green tea and chandeliers, French wall sconces, and Chinese art, French cuisine versus pasta, and the value of the metric system. Sometimes she just stared at him, and gave a big belly laugh as though he was ridiculous, or highly amusing. Coco fully expected her to answer him one day with her own monologue.

Ian spent Coco’s twenty-fifth birthday with her, and cooked her a magnificent dinner at his place and served Chateau Margaux with the meal, and Chateau d’Yquem with dessert. They’d left Bethanie with the nanny and gone away for a few romantic weekends, particularly one in Venice, where they went from one church to the next until their heads were reeling. He seemed to know all of them and every detail of their history. She learned more from him than she had in her art history classes at Columbia.

They spent Christmas together since neither of them had anyone else to be with, and in January he disappeared again for two months to do some writing. She concentrated on Bethanie. The business kept her busy too. She knew that Ian would turn up before long, which he did, like the swallows returning in spring. He came and went, but the aura he left behind was so rich that she had no hunger for anyone else when she wasn’t with him. That was what Sam had warned her about. She was so well sated by Ian that she had no need for anyone else in his absence and no one could compare to him. He was unique and brilliant and a fabulous lover, and even three months wasn’t too long to wait for him. She didn’t pine for him. She hibernated, gathering strength and knowledge to share with him when he returned to fill her soul and her mind again.