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“Never.
Never. Never. Gina stays here. Jones said she tried to do too
many things. She needs therapy.”
“Cleo, sweet.” He draped his arm across her shoulders, let his
hand dangle on her breast. Cleo cringed at his touch. “I’ve
been giving it some thought,” Adam continued. “Our daughter is
caught up in the grind of the eighties. No, let me finish.” He
put his hand over Cleo’s mouth. “I know she’s not greedy for
glory, material possession, but hers is different, perhaps
more toxic. Gina wants to excel in everything. She knows what
it takes to bubble up to the top. It’s too much for her. What
she needs now is to learn humility, to understand basic needs.
I intend to show her the essentials of life, let her learn how
food is produced, let her live in a hut with a thatched roof
and a dirt floor, drink water from a pure running river. I
want to find an antidote for her habit, a cure for her body,
empty it of its cravings, free her mind to expand, to be able
to possess the thousands of possibilities available to her.
Now what do you say?”
Cleo
broke from his embrace to stare at him, flabbergasted. Was
this the man she had married, giving her new age drivel? His
appearance hadn’t changed that much in the last twenty years
except that grey flecks now peppered his hair. “You can’t be
serious.”
[#2]
The thought
of Gina going off with Adam gripped her again with such
physical force that she gagged. She banged her fists on the
drafting table. She had to control these disabling emotions.
She had to remind herself again and again that Gina was not a
child, that she could be as safe in the Amazon as on the
streets of Boston, safer perhaps. Adam knew the Amazon. Adam
knew what to do in the Amazon, and he always came back, safe.
He would not let anything happen to Gina, but how she would
miss her.
[#3]
The phone
rang. “Adrian, you’re not serious.”
“Would I say something that’s not true? The buyer took all of
them.”
“I
can’t believe it.” Cleo grabbed her glass of Chardonnay and
drained it. “I’m toasting you, my studio, my paints,
everything, Adrian.”
Adrian laughed. “The buyer wants to meet you.”
“Why?
When?”
Adrian laughed. “It’s his custom. Friday, lunch, at The Park.”
“I’ll
be there,” Cleo said.
“Cleo,” Adrian said, “This buyer is a real big shot. On your
best behavior, promise?”
Cleo
laughed giddily. “I won’t flub this one.”
Cleo
kissed the phone. She’d be able to send Orrie to Paris to
study gourmet cooking, get him a computer. El could have
everything she wanted. All of them. She savored the sound of
it. Whoever would want all of her paintings? Mine not to
reason why, she thought, as she felt her body warm to a
comfortable glow.
Close
to four that afternoon Cleo wandered out of the house and
walked up and down the street. Orrie should be about to leave
football practice, perhaps another half hour. El should be on
her way. No sign of either of them. She went inside to prepare
dinner. The news would not evaporate. Around five Orrie pushed
open the side door.
“Guess what.”
Orrie
looked at Cleo. “You’ve won the lottery.”
“Better than that. Adrian sold all of my paintings.”
“No
sweat,” Orrie’s mouth stretched into the widest grin she’d
ever seen.
Cleo
nodded, then bubbled with laughter. Orrie grasped her about
the waist and waltzed her around the room. El coming in on
them asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“Mom
sold all of her paintings. A sell-out.”
“I
didn’t think that crowd would buy a thing,” El remarked.
“One
person bought them all. I’m going to meet him Friday."
“What
is he, a patron or something?” El asked.
“I’ve
no idea, but I’ll find out tomorrow. Isn’t it conceivable that
someone likes my work? Aren’t you happy for me?”
El
hugged her mother briefly. “I’m glad it all worked out.”
Cleo
turned to Orin. “I feel so light that if you blew on me I’d
sail over the PRU.
Orin
laughed and lifted her up. “Let’s try it.”
[#4]
Cleo
hurried into the bar at The Park, recognized Adrian’s narrow
frame and saw seated next to him, a well-proportioned man.
“We
were becoming worried,” Adrian said.
“Sorry, I’m late. People smashing up on the trolley tracks.”
The
man edged off the stool and extended his hand, “Hello, Cleo.”
Cleo
stepped back, examined the handsome face unlined, except for
two sharp creases on his brow. Was it? Impossible. “Gus?
Adrian, I thought I was to meet a buyer.”
Adrian stammered. “What’s going on? This is the buyer.
Augustus Hart. Hart? Are you related? It never occurred to me
that you might be related.”
Gus
smiled. “We’re cousins by marriage.
Memories of Gus running off with Heather, ruining her wedding,
Adam’s warning about his cousin swam before her eyes. Cleo
wheeled about to face Gus. “I don’t know what your game is,
but you can stop playing right now. I should have known
better."
“What
the hell is going on? Have you lost your mind? Gus is one of
our most valued customers. His word is as good as gold.”
[#5]
At
the moment that the clock registered eight, Cleo dialed Logan.
She called both American and Varig and found that a Varig
flight from Brazil had landed at 5:30 A.M. Orrie and El sang
out their good-byes as they left for school, and Cleo
realizing that she should have told them of their father’s and
Gina’s return, ran down the stairs to give them the news, but
they were already plowing through the snow out of earshot. She
made herself some coffee and tried to quell the uneasiness she
felt. At this hour a taxi from Logan should take no more than
forty-five minutes, that is, if they were on the Varig flight.
She stood at the window in the living room facing the street.
Where were they? The storm, of course. Roads had to be plowed.
It might be hours. At noon she heard the crunching of a car
stopping.
“Adam.” She looked past him. “Gina? Where is she?”
Adam,
his face contorted with pain embraced Cleo.
Cleo
broke away. “What’s happened to Gina?”
Adam
burst into sobs. He reached out for Cleo.
Cleo
moved away from him. “Tell me,” she screamed.
Adam
stifled his sobs. “We lost her.”
“What
do you mean, lost.” Cleo could not stop from screaming. She
pounded her fists on Adam’s chest.
Adam
crushed Cleo in his arms imprisoning her fists. “A terrible
accident,” he whispered.
Cleo
slid to the floor, sobbing.
Adam
dropped down beside her, tried to embrace her again. Cleo
swiveled away from him. “Your experiment killed her.”
[#6]
They had
been in the air for fifteen minutes and there was no sign of
Manaus. He tapped Ferreira’s shoulder. “Is there a problem?”
“A
little turbulence,” Ferreira said.
“Shouldn’t I have a chute, too?” Adam asked noting that both
Ferreira and the pilot had donned chutes.
“Yes,
there is one for you in the tail.”
Adam
looked about him, saw nothing but a flyer advertising video
equipment and some candy wrappers. “There’s nothing here.”
“No
matter,” Ferreira said. “We’re coming out of the turbulence.”
The pilot nodded.
Adam
peered out the side of the copter. No sign of Manaus. They had
now been in the air a half hour. What was going on? “Shouldn’t
we be sighting Manaus?”
“We
had to go off course.”
Ferreira’s response was curt, edgy. Adam had felt no jarring
of the craft. He forced himself to speak quietly. “What makes
you think there was turbulence. I felt nothing.”
“You
are flying with a skilled pilot. It’s his business to
anticipate problems. Relax, we’ll reach Manaus soon.”
Five
minutes passed, then ten, fifteen, sixty minutes since they
had left Ferreira’s compound. Adam’s entire body prickled
uncomfortably. Words of warning flashed into his mind. Could
be dangerous. Perhaps if he could keep the conversation going,
he might be able to crack their game. “Lost your bearings?”
“We
know where we are.”
Adam
stared down into the unbroken canopy. Where was this place? He
tried to visualize a map of this part of the country, but he
could identify nothing. He glared at the backs of the men up
front. Ferreira bent his head to the pilot’s, said something
that was lost in the roar of the engine. Adam’s eyes darted
from the backs of their heads to the terrain below. Possible?
“You’re flying in circles.”
“Nonsense.” Ferreira snorted. “To the untrained eye, all
canopy looks alike.”
They
were flying in circles. Why? He scanned the back of the
copter searching for an object, something, anything he might
use to defend himself against them. He cursed himself for
forgetting his gun. The copter shuddered. “What the hell is
going on?”
Ferreira, his face grim, turned about. “You ask too many
questions.”
Adam
tensed. It had all been a farce, a lure to net him, so they
could destroy him. If they threw him out of the plane here,
his body would probably never be recovered. He had failed, but
he would not go without a fight. He crouched down in his seat
and placed his duffel between his feet, his muscles tensed.
With
a cry, the pilot leapt from the copter.
Adam
jerked his head to the sound. “What the hell?”
[#7]
“Do you
really want to die? Blink twice.”
Cleo
blinked twice.
Eleanor walked away from the bed. It was up to her. She could
grant her mother her wish. She examined the document again.
Everything was there, the notary signature, seal, the
instructions, no life support measures. She would take it to
the hospital administration.
An
administrator, Dr. Thompson, advised her that Dr. Knowles
would be down shortly to follow the procedures of
disconnecting the life-support system. Eleanor asked if she
could be present. Dr. Thompson nodded.
Eleanor watched Dr. Knowles. So simple to detach a life,
merely, press a button or pull a switch. No sparks. No drum
roll. She bent over her mother. “You have your wish now.”
Cleo smiled and thrust up both arms to receive her daughter’s
last embrace. For a moment Eleanor felt that her mother
had taken her into her arms, and she had in some incredible
way returned the embrace. She felt strange, cautious one
moment, exhilarated the next. Dr. Knowles came over to take
Cleo’s pulse. A puzzled look came over his face and he
listened to her heart with a stethoscope.
“What’s happening?” Eleanor asked. She had never been this
close to death. In her imagination death was a violent
happening, a catastrophic event, a tearing apart of the body.
This seeping away of life frightened her, this inability to
determine where the life force ended and the nothingness
began. The bubble of elation she had experienced when she told
her mother it was done collapsed. Cleo’s lids fluttered. A
sound something like a moan escaped from her lips. Still
hanging on. Why didn’t she die? Somewhere she had read that
even a two-month fetus tries to resist an abortion. Life.
Everything clung to life. |
