Michael’s innocence. I came to tell you that, not to listen to you badmouth Jonathan.”
“Not just Jonathan; you’re as complicit as he is. What do you think pays for your fancy estate in Highview, the house in East Hampton, that monstrous boat? You don’t even work. Where do you think all that money comes from, Jonathan’s salary?”
Lily gave her icy look. “I didn’t know you kept such careful track of our expenditures.”
“Ducking the question: Why am I not surprised?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Jonathan happens to have made some excellent investments.”
“Oh, really. In what?” When Lily didn’t answer, Martha laughed and said, “You’re such an ostrich.”
The waiter served their lunch and slipped away. Lily stared down at the dainty little rows of rolled sushi, whose fishy odor was suddenly overwhelming, and found she’d lost her appetite. Martha attacked her squid grimly, as if she weren’t hungry either, but expected this meal to be her last.
Lily’s head hurt. The headache had started on the jitney from East Hampton but suddenly it was much worse. The restaurant swam in and out of focus. Martha’s vermilion mouth jabbered soundlessly, and the sushi wriggled on Lily’s plate. She pressed her hands to her temples and shut her eyes.
Gradually, like the downside of a labor contraction, the pain ebbed. Martha’s voice resurfaced. “What’s wrong?”
“Headache,” Lily said.
“You’ve gone white.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Martha signaled for the check, but Lily was recovered enough to grab it when it came. She paid, and they went outside into the heat. Though they had no wish to go on together, their paths led the same way, toward Columbus Circle. After a while Martha said, “Win or lose, this fight has cost us everything. Not just money. We’re talking divorce, when this nightmare is over. We’re talking kids who want to change their names and move to Arkansas. We’re talking my career down the tubes. And you know what kills me? We didn’t need it. Maybe in the beginning, but later, between his salary and mine? It’s not worth it, I told him; but Jonathan wouldn’t leave him alone.”
“I wish you would stop saying that. Jonathan loves Michael.”
“Sure, in his own twisted way. That’s why he had to drag Michael down with him. If they were both doing it, it had to be okay.”
They’d reached the southern edge of Central Park. Lily stopped and glared at Martha, who suddenly remembered a younger, more formidable Lily. Where had she gone, and when had Tapioca Woman taken her place?
“That’s enough,” Lily said, sounding more like her old self. “I’m sorry if Michael’s done things he shouldn’t have, but he’s responsible for his choices, not Jonathan.”
“We’ll see,” Martha said. “I’ll tell you this: the buck won’t stop with my husband.”
“I don’t believe you. Michael would never drag Jonathan into his mess.”
Martha let out a bitter laugh. “Michael will do what he has to do.” The women glared at each other, all semblance of liking gone. “You know what your problem is?”
“No, but I’ll bet you do.”
“I finally figured you out. Behind that Mrs. Ramsay act you do so well, you’re nothing but a common coward. You take what Jonathan gives, but you don’t have the guts to ask where it comes from. You just drift along on the current.”
Lily flushed. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it? Listen.” Martha moved closer. Her breath smelled of squid. “I’m strong. Somehow I will survive this nightmare, and when it’s over, I will rebuild my life. But you, Lily: what’s going to happen to you?”
Lily had heard enough. She turned and fled into Central Park, where she wandered aimlessly, too upset to go home. After some time she found herself in the Sheep Meadow, where she and Jonathan used to attend the free concerts when they first came back to New York. They would arrive early in the
“Not just Jonathan; you’re as complicit as he is. What do you think pays for your fancy estate in Highview, the house in East Hampton, that monstrous boat? You don’t even work. Where do you think all that money comes from, Jonathan’s salary?”
Lily gave her icy look. “I didn’t know you kept such careful track of our expenditures.”
“Ducking the question: Why am I not surprised?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Jonathan happens to have made some excellent investments.”
“Oh, really. In what?” When Lily didn’t answer, Martha laughed and said, “You’re such an ostrich.”
The waiter served their lunch and slipped away. Lily stared down at the dainty little rows of rolled sushi, whose fishy odor was suddenly overwhelming, and found she’d lost her appetite. Martha attacked her squid grimly, as if she weren’t hungry either, but expected this meal to be her last.
Lily’s head hurt. The headache had started on the jitney from East Hampton but suddenly it was much worse. The restaurant swam in and out of focus. Martha’s vermilion mouth jabbered soundlessly, and the sushi wriggled on Lily’s plate. She pressed her hands to her temples and shut her eyes.
Gradually, like the downside of a labor contraction, the pain ebbed. Martha’s voice resurfaced. “What’s wrong?”
“Headache,” Lily said.
“You’ve gone white.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Martha signaled for the check, but Lily was recovered enough to grab it when it came. She paid, and they went outside into the heat. Though they had no wish to go on together, their paths led the same way, toward Columbus Circle. After a while Martha said, “Win or lose, this fight has cost us everything. Not just money. We’re talking divorce, when this nightmare is over. We’re talking kids who want to change their names and move to Arkansas. We’re talking my career down the tubes. And you know what kills me? We didn’t need it. Maybe in the beginning, but later, between his salary and mine? It’s not worth it, I told him; but Jonathan wouldn’t leave him alone.”
“I wish you would stop saying that. Jonathan loves Michael.”
“Sure, in his own twisted way. That’s why he had to drag Michael down with him. If they were both doing it, it had to be okay.”
They’d reached the southern edge of Central Park. Lily stopped and glared at Martha, who suddenly remembered a younger, more formidable Lily. Where had she gone, and when had Tapioca Woman taken her place?
“That’s enough,” Lily said, sounding more like her old self. “I’m sorry if Michael’s done things he shouldn’t have, but he’s responsible for his choices, not Jonathan.”
“We’ll see,” Martha said. “I’ll tell you this: the buck won’t stop with my husband.”
“I don’t believe you. Michael would never drag Jonathan into his mess.”
Martha let out a bitter laugh. “Michael will do what he has to do.” The women glared at each other, all semblance of liking gone. “You know what your problem is?”
“No, but I’ll bet you do.”
“I finally figured you out. Behind that Mrs. Ramsay act you do so well, you’re nothing but a common coward. You take what Jonathan gives, but you don’t have the guts to ask where it comes from. You just drift along on the current.”
Lily flushed. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it? Listen.” Martha moved closer. Her breath smelled of squid. “I’m strong. Somehow I will survive this nightmare, and when it’s over, I will rebuild my life. But you, Lily: what’s going to happen to you?”
Lily had heard enough. She turned and fled into Central Park, where she wandered aimlessly, too upset to go home. After some time she found herself in the Sheep Meadow, where she and Jonathan used to attend the free concerts when they first came back to New York. They would arrive early in the
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