Kate Christensen - The Great Man

Katerina said something else, but Abigail didn’t hear what because someone spoke right behind her.

“I’m so sorry,” came a soft girlish voice. “I think maybe you’re more upset by all this than you’re letting on. I know I would be.”

Abigail turned. Lila stood there, eyes squinting a little, skin aglow with heat and empathic anxiousness. “No,” said Abigail. “I’m really not.”

“It’s my fault, in a way,” Lila went on as if she hadn’t heard. “I could have just ignored Maxine’s mark. But no, I had to ask Teddy. I never wanted this known; I loved Oscar.”

Abigail said, “I’m not at all upset. And everyone loved Oscar, Lila; he banked on being loved. Nothing wrong with that. But he did come to take it for granted. He had to prove no woman could resist him. I always wondered why he needed that so badly. I knew him from when we were kids, and he was always like that.”

“How hard, to be married to someone like that,” said Lila wistfully.

“Not so hard as you might think,” said Abigail. She glanced over at Ethan. He seemed calm enough. “We were strangely well suited to each other. I wouldn’t have married anyone else.”

She and Lila exchanged a complex look.

“What do you think of these biographers?” asked Lila.

“Henry’s all right. I’m having lunch with the other one tomorrow.”

“Ralph?”

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Oh, me, no. Why would he want to talk to me? I was just Teddy’s friend, nothing more.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you loved Oscar, too, but trust me, you were better off with your own husband; I can tell just by looking at you.”

“What are you saying?” Lila asked with a faint air of sorrow.

“I have a suspicion that you’re a romantic. That’s a compliment. But no woman could be romantic and have the stomach for Oscar. To survive him, you had to be practical and a little bit detached from him. I wonder whether your friend Teddy was those things. To look at her, I would guess she was, and good for her.”

Lila sighed, obviously wishing she were more practical, more coldhearted, more whatever it would have taken to have been with Oscar. “I have a confession,” she whispered with a quick glance over at the table. “I’m in love.”

“You are?” Abigail said, surprised. “Who with?”

“A younger man I met on the street! At my age! We’re like teenagers.”

“Well,” said Abigail yearningly, imagining the thrill. She suspected that Lila had told her this to even the playing field, and she didn’t blame her. “Gosh.”

“I can’t tell Teddy.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want her to be upset. She seems so lonely these days….” Lila’s voice trailed off.

“You should tell her,” said Abigail. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for you.” Her antennae had begun to sense a restlessness at the table. She looked over at them all to make sure Ethan was all right.

“Hey,” called Maxine, “you two, get back here. There’s another item we have to discuss.”

As Abigail and Lila herded themselves back to the war table, Abigail felt renewed resentment toward Maxine but quashed it. Ethan was rocking silently, twiddling an ear with the opposite hand. Katerina was nowhere in sight. Abigail guessed she had gone back to her office, leaving Teddy and Maxine uncomfortably together in prickly silence, and this was the real reason the seconds had been summoned back to the table.

“What were you two getting up to over there?” Teddy asked.

“All sorts of mischief,” said Abigail.

When Lila smiled at her, Abigail was surprised to find herself near tears. Had she really become so lonely that a scrap of proffered friendship could make her weep? Things were dire indeed. She took her place again across from Lila and tried not to look dementedly needy.

“Now,” said Maxine. She poured herself another shot of whiskey and then, by way of hospitality, waved the bottle at the rest of them a little menacingly, Abigail thought, like a pirate offering his captives a last drink before they walked the plank.

“Please,” said Teddy, pushing her glass forward. “Pour some all around.”

Maxine gave Teddy a good-size shot, then poured markedly less into Abigail’s and Lila’s glasses. Ethan touched his nose a few times, fending off the sharp, caustic smell.

“These biographers,” said Maxine. “Oscar would have greatly cared about the things we all say about him to these men. I want him remembered properly, the way he would have wanted to be.”

“You’re a good sister,” Teddy burst out, half in anger and half something else — Abigail wasn’t sure what, maybe admiration.

Maxine looked directly at Teddy, her face blank, and said nothing.

“Well, anyway,” said Teddy in that same half-angry tone. “I’ve already said things about Oscar that I deeply regret.”

“So have I,” said Maxine, sounding oddly relieved.

The two hostile parties stared at each other. Abigail felt the air between them smooth out just a little, become marginally warmer.

“It’s kept me awake at night,” said Teddy. “I betrayed him.”

“Nowhere near as badly as I have,” said Maxine.

“Well,” said Teddy. “It’s true: We should all be very careful what we say about him from now on.”

“The upset apple cart comes to mind,” said Maxine. “As does the open barn door with the horse gone.”

“I haven’t said anything I regret,” said Abigail, “but it does make me a little uneasy to talk about Oscar in such a way. It feels very exciting and flattering to me to have Henry there listening to every word, and I find myself telling more than maybe I should, because I do love to talk about Oscar. I do miss him so much; it brings him back to me a little.”

“Yes,” said Teddy.

“Yes,” agreed Maxine.

Teddy looked over at Abigail and clasped her hands together on the tabletop in front of her. “Abigail,” she said.

Abigail looked back at her.

“I can’t apologize to you,” said Teddy. “I always thought I ought to if this moment ever came, but I find now that I can’t do it.”

“You haven’t got anything to apologize for,” said Abigail. She sounded unconvinced and unconvincing even to herself.

Maxine made a sound in the back of her throat.

“I’m sure I have,” said Teddy, “but I find that I can’t.”

Maxine made another sound in the back of her throat.

“Sounds like something’s stuck in your craw,” Teddy said to Maxine. “Maybe you should spit it out.”

“I will,” said Maxine. “Right in your face. You screwed her husband for decades.”

Teddy looked at Abigail. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. Many times, it was someone else.”

“Oh,” said Abigail, wanting to agree, wanting this conversation not to be happening. She went on: “Well, yes. But it was mostly you.”

“Sure,” said Teddy. “He needed me, Abigail.”

“I can see that,” said Abigail.

“Stop being such a yellowbelly!” Maxine said.

Abigail stared at Maxine with her mouth slightly ajar. “Maxie, there’s nothing to say now! What would be the point? Why are you pushing me?”

“Because you won’t push yourself,” said Maxine. “Damn it. You should have put a stop to it right at the beginning.”

“I couldn’t,” said Abigail. “What would I have said?”

“Told him to dump her and stick to his little sluts,” said Maxine.

“As if anyone could have,” said Teddy. “It’s not Abigail’s fault Oscar and I carried on an affair. It was nothing to do with her.”

Ethan made a sharp, high sound, as if he were reacting to this in some way.

“Nothing to do with his wife ?” Maxine squawked.