Danielle Steel - The Klone and I - A High-Tech Love Story

“Don't be so uptight, Steph. They loved it. Everyone laughed. It was so easy, I couldn't resist. It was their fault anyway. They shouldn't have served beans on the buffet. There's nothing Christmasy about beans,” he said matter-of-factly.

“No one forced you to eat them. You embarrassed me.” But as soon as I said it, he looked devastated.

“Are you mad at me, Steph?” But just looking at him in his Christmas ball suit, with the pants all lit up, I shook my head. How could I be? He was so lovable and so silly.

“I guess not, but I should be.” The worst of it was that as irritating as he could be, I knew I would miss him as soon as he left. And that day was coming soon. We only had a few days left. There was something about him that always hooked me, and I knew it wasn't his wardrobe, or even the double flip. There was something so basically decent about him, so innocent and so loving. He was agonizingly hard to resist. And I couldn't.

“I love you, Steph,” he said, snuggling close to me in the cab. “I wish I could spend Christmas with you.” I wanted to tell him I did not, but it wouldn't have been true. There were times when I wanted him to stay forever, with his crazy clothes and his outrageous behavior. He wasn't easy to take to parties, and yet when we were alone, we were always so happy.

He felt so remorseful about upsetting me that night that he suggested we stop at Elaine's for a drink. It had always been one of my favorite places with Roger, and I hadn't been there since he left me, but the idea appealed to me, and after hesitating for a minute, I agreed to go with him.

The cab dropped us off on the corner, and he put his arm around me, as we walked toward Elaine's. There was a huge, festive crowd at the bar as usual, and Paul ordered a double bourbon straight up and a glass of white wine for me. I didn't really want it, but it felt good to be there, and in spite of the ridiculous suit he was wearing, I was happy to be with him. And the crowd at Elaine's was eccentric enough that I figured he could get by there without attracting too much attention. It wasn't as difficult as going to a place like ‘21’ with him.

But I had just taken the first sip of my wine, when I turned and suddenly found myself staring at Helena in a red velvet cocktail dress trimmed in white rabbit or some kind of fur that was shedding in white clouds all over everyone standing at the bar near her. But far more impressive than the fur she was shedding was the amount of cleavage the dress left exposed. All I could do was stare at her enormous white bosom, it was so impressive it distracted one completely from noticing her ever so slightly protruding belly. And as I looked up I saw Roger, watching me watch her, and looking desperately uncomfortable, and then he glanced at Paul. The balls on his Christmas jacket suddenly looked larger than ever, and even in the crowd at the bar, the lights on his pants seemed to surround him in a kind of glow.

“What is that?” Roger said without preamble, staring at him in amazement. He knew about Peter from the kids, but nothing they had said had prepared him for what he saw.

“That's Paul … I mean Peter,” I said calmly, brushing some of the fur Helena's dress had lost off my nose.

“That's quite an outfit,” Roger said expressively, which Paul took as a compliment, but I knew Roger better, and saw with ease that he was appalled. “Thank you. It's Moschino,” he explained pleasantly, with no idea who Roger was, much less Helena. “I usually wear Versace, but I couldn't resist this for the holidays. What kind of fur is that?” he asked, staring at Helena's cleavage, and then turned to me with a smile. “Friends of yours?”

“My ex-husband, and his wife,” I said tersely, and then turned to my successor. I had to be polite for the children's sake, or maybe for Roger's. “Hello, Helena.” She gave me a nervous smile, and then told Roger she was going to powder her nose. She disappeared into the crowd in a cloud of white fur, as Roger grinned at the man he thought was Peter. He would have really had a rough time with it if he knew Paul was a Klone.

“The children have told me about you,” Roger said vaguely, as Paul nodded, and then told me he was going to see about getting us a table, and the next thing I knew Roger and I were alone, for the first time in ages. “I can't believe you'd go out with a guy who looks like that,” he said bluntly.

“At least I didn't marry little Miss Santa. I thought you were allergic to fur.” Or maybe he was just allergic to my flannel nightgowns and the fur on my legs.

“That's uncalled for,” he said bluntly. “She's the mother of your children's half-brother or sister,” he said coldly, looking just like the man I had come to hate in the end.

“Being married to you and getting pregnant doesn't make her respectable, Roger. It just makes her as dumb as I was. For now at least. What do you two talk about anyway, or do you bother to talk to her at all?”

“What do you do with him in that suit? Sing ‘Deck the Halls’?”

“He's nice to our kids. That counts for a lot,” and it was more than I could say for Helena, but I didn't say it to him. There was no point, but the children still reported every time they saw them that she never even talked to them, and she could hardly wait for them to leave on Sunday afternoon. I knew Roger had to know it too, and I wondered how he felt about it, and how much worse it would get after their own baby was born. But that was another matter, and not something that could be resolved at Elaine's. I was sorry we had come there, and had seen them. Roger didn't look any better than he had when he left me two years before. In fact, he looked a lot more tired, and a little older, and extremely bored. Helena was no brain-trust, but I had to admit she was striking and sexy, and her cleavage was pretty impressive, whether or not it was draped in rabbit fur. It wasn't too obvious yet that she was pregnant, but I suspected her boobs had grown even larger than the last time I'd seen them.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, with a wistful look, and I hated him for it. I didn't want him to be human, and more than anything I didn't want him to feel sorry for me because I was out with a Klone covered in blinking lights and Christmas balls.

“I'm fine, Roger,” I said quietly. But as I said it, I wasn't so sure that I was. I was in love with a most unusual man who was in California doing odd scientific things I didn't understand, and who had no desire to get married, and in his absence, I was sleeping with his Klone. It was not only tough to explain to Roger, but a little hard to come to terms with myself. As I thought about it, Paul returned from wherever he had been.

“We got a table,” he said proudly, reaching for my glass of wine, but all I wanted to do was go home. I could see Helena approaching, preceded by a small cloud of flying fur.

“It was nice to see you,” I said to Roger politely. “Merry Christmas,” and with that, I set down my wine, and left the bar with Paul. We passed Helena on the way, and I could smell her perfume. It was one I had worn ten years before, and I knew Roger had bought it for her, because it was one he really loved. He was hers now, and they had their own life. They were having a baby, and whatever mess I had made with my own life, it was not his problem, and maybe not even Peter's or Paul's.

I told Paul that I wanted to leave then, and he looked disappointed about the table, but he could see in my eyes that something was wrong. He followed me outside, and looked at me in the freezing night air as I took a deep breath, as much to free myself of the familiar sight and scent of Roger as of Helena's perfume and her fur.

“What happened?”

“I don't know,” I said, shaking in the December air it had just started to snow. “I didn't expect to see them … she's such a bimbo, and he's crazy about her. It was like a reminder of everything I felt when he left me. He left me for her.” I felt vulnerable and naked, and the cheesy dress and brassy hair were no consolation. The truth was he hadn't loved me. And for now at least, he loved her. I didn't want him anymore, that wasn't the point, and I wouldn't have taken him back if he'd asked me, but it still rubbed all my broken dreams in my face again.