“Would you like a cup of tea?” Sarah asked, heading toward the darkroom door.
Marina stared after her. “Is that still a darkroom?”
Sarah opened the door. “No, it’s just filled with my junk, but I kept one of the big sinks for cleaning my tools. I have a little hot plate for heating soup, and an electric kettle for tea.” Her voice was muffled inside the darkroom. “You want tea?”
“Sure.” Marina stood in the center of the room amidst the crowd of shrouded forms. Her eyes shifted to the partially opened bathroom door. She could just see the end of the bathtub, and for a moment, she felt the chill of the milky water, the flame from the heater, the nest of velvet, and the soft patter of rain on glass. Drawing her coat closer, she turned her attention to the form immediately next to her. She reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it tentatively until it slid off the sculpture. She knew enough about Sarah’s work to expect the figure of a child, but not the quality of the work. The girl’s face was exquisite. With a compassionate and delicate touch, Sarah had captured the essence of innocence and wonderment. The next form, small and low to the ground, was a boy squatting down, delicate fingers holding his shoelace, his face upturned. Marina imagined if she were to uncover all of them, it would be like standing at a children’s birthday party, figures frozen in time.
“Do you mind that I’m peeking?” Marina called in the direction of the darkroom.
“Peek away. This kettle takes forever.”
Marina moved about the room, an invited guest, fascinated and awed by the work. As she worked her way closer to the end of the room, she could hear Sarah rummaging about in the darkroom, and called to her again.
“Your work is beautiful; I’m dumbstruck.”
“Thanks. I’m so glad you like it. I should have listened to you all those years ago when you told me to get back to work.”
Marina glanced beyond the darkroom door where the daybed had once been and where now a stack of dusty boxes obscured that corner of the room. She turned away but then felt herself drawn to look. Skirting the boxes, she found the daybed covered in a dust sheet and piled with books, papers, empty frames, and a couple of tattered lampshades. At the foot of the bed, on a low pedestal, a small sculpture was covered with a dust-laden cloth. She lifted the cloth carefully so as to disrupt as little of the dust as possible, and looked, at first with incomprehension, and then with disbelief, at the bronze bust that stared back at her. It couldn’t be! It was impossible. But there was no mistaking the shape of the eyes, the full lips, and the rounded cheeks of her daughter. Hearing a sound behind her, she turned.
“Oh, I forgot that was there,” Sarah said, blushing, a mug of tea in each hand.
“I ... I don’t understand. How did you know?” Panic and confusion choked Marina’s voice.
“I did that after Thomas died. It was supposed to be him... .”
All Marina heard was the word “Thomas.” “How did Thomas know? Did he tell you?”
“... but I was missing you, too. You kept creeping into it... .”
“You’ve known all these years?”
Sarah looked at Marina blankly, and then her face changed as she digested Marina’s words. “Did Thomas tell me what? Did I know what?”
In that moment, Marina realized they’d been talking at cross-purposes, but it was too late to turn back—the force behind the truth was more than she could fend off. She pointed at the bust. “About Zoe. About us.”
It seemed to Marina that Sarah moved in slow motion. Very carefully, she put the mugs down on one of the boxes, then turned to face Marina. In almost a whisper, she asked, “What are you saying?”
“It was a mistake, Sarah. You have to believe me.” Marina clasped her hands together in front of her with such a grip that her fingernails blushed purple.
“What mistake?” Sarah emphasized each word, her voice hard.
“We were doing the bathtub shoot. I drank too much wine. I didn’t know what I was doing. Thomas was ... he ...”
“You’re telling me that Thomas seduced you?”
“He ... I ...”
“You fucked him?” Sarah’s voice rose.
Marina shook her head. She had to make Sarah understand. “It wasn’t like that. You have to ...”
“I don’t have to anything. Did you or did you not have sex with Thomas?”
Marina looked at the floor and nodded. When she heard Sarah move away, she looked up and began to follow her into the middle of the room but stopped when Sarah whirled around.
“You and Thomas had sex here? In this studio?” Sarah covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “And to think that I encouraged you to work with him.”
“Sarah, it wasn’t what you think. It was you I loved.”
“For Christ’s sake, Marina. You loved me so much you had an affair with my husband?”
The look of disgust on Sarah’s face crushed Marina. She
had
loved Sarah. Perhaps it had been a naïve and misguided love, but her feelings had been pure. She’d been attracted to and fallen in love with the essence of who Sarah was, and the intimacy she offered. She looked at Sarah and began to cry. “It wasn’t an affair. It was just that once. I told you, it was a mistake, a mistake I’ve had to live with all these years. I’ve never forgiven myself.”
As if just remembering the bust, Sarah’s eyes opened wide and she covered her mouth with her hand. “You got pregnant. Oh my God! You got pregnant.”
Sarah spit the word with such force that Marina winced, and the shame she thought she’d put behind her now scorched every inch of her body, making her wish she’d combust right there on the spot and have it all over and done with.
Sarah turned her back and walked toward the darkroom.
“Sarah, I’m not asking you to forgive me, but
try
and understand. I was young. I was way out of my league. I was in love with you and I didn’t know what to do. You even admitted that you led me on.”
Sarah turned around. “Oh, so that gives you the right to sleep with my husband and have his child.” Her voice was shrill.
“No, of course not. I’m just trying to make you understand how confused I was. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Sarah held up her hands as if to ward off Marina’s words, then covered her face with them and slid to the floor, her back to the darkroom door. Her body shook with sobs. Marina went to her and squatted down but didn’t dare touch her. Her heart broke in the face of Sarah’s devastation, and she cursed herself for creating exactly what she’d wanted to avoid. She should have left well enough alone and stayed away from Sarah.
Marina spoke softly. “Sarah, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell you. How could I tell you something like that? I wasn’t even going to tell you now, after everything you’ve been through. But I saw the bust. I thought it was Zoe. I thought you knew.”
Sarah dropped her hands; her face was ashen. “How would I know? Did Thomas know? Did you tell him?” Her voice broke on the question.
“No, I swear, he never knew. No one knew.”
“I cannot believe him!” Sarah smacked the palm of her hand on the floor. “It wasn’t enough to have the contessa. He had to have you, too. It didn’t matter that I never knew. He knew. He knew he’d taken you from me. He couldn’t stand me having something of my own, something he wasn’t a part of.”
“He never took me away from you, Sarah, never.” Marina put her hand on Sarah’s arm, but she shook it off.
“He thought he had and that’s all that counts. I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool.” Sarah dropped her head to her knees and continued shaking it, mumbling. “Such a fool ... such a fool.” Suddenly, she lifted her head again. “Don’t think for a minute that he wanted you. He just didn’t want me to have anyone but him.”
Marina nodded, afraid to speak.
Sarah’s face was wet with tears. “I can believe he got you drunk. I wouldn’t put that past him, not with what I know now. But why didn’t
you
stop him?”
“I don’t know, Sarah. I honestly don’t think I could have. I was too out of it. It was all hazy like a dream. I’m sorry.” Marina knew it sounded lame, but it was the truth. For once, it was the truth, it had been like a dream, a dream about Sarah, a dream that had cost them all so much.
“But how could you not tell me?”
Marina looked into her face. “How could I tell you something like that? I tried, I really did. I wanted to, but I was afraid of losing you.”
“But you left me.”
Marina shook her head. “I didn’t leave you. I left the situation. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to go.”
“You kept the baby.”
“I wasn’t going to, Sarah, honest. I went home to have an abortion.... I don’t know what happened. I just never did. And then it was too late.” Marina wiped at her own tears and sniffed. “I don’t expect you to accept any of this. I can barely live with what I’ve done. But it stops here. I can’t lie anymore.” She realized it was true; as much as she hated hurting Sarah, she couldn’t lie anymore.
Sarah stood up. “If you can’t live with what you’ve done, how the hell am I supposed to?”
Marina didn’t have any more answers.
“I hope you don’t expect me to forgive you?”
Marina shook her head.
“Damn right.” Sarah pointed toward the door. “Now, get out!”
The streets were quiet as Marina retraced her steps back to the hotel, the city not quite ready to wrest itself from the siesta. She walked blindly until she found herself once again in the middle of the bridge. She stopped and looked downriver, the Ponte Vecchio at her back. There were no rowers in sight, just the endless flow of water. How could everything have gone so wrong? For a moment, she considered going back to the studio, but what could she say to Sarah beyond excuses? Her confession had been a shock to them both. She’d always imagined that she’d preface her admission with a cautionary statement like, “I’m really sorry to have to tell you this,” or “This is really hard to say,” or “You’re going to find this really upsetting,” something to give warning, to soften the blow. Instead, she’d just blurted it out and then babbled excuses. No, she’d give Sarah some time, go back to the hotel and regroup, maybe call Lydia, then try to talk to Sarah again later.
By the time she reached the hotel, the city had come back to life with a vengeance, and she was glad to take refuge in her room. The message light was flashing insistently. She pushed the button, hoping to hear that Sarah wanted to talk, but it was Zoe’s voice that she heard. “Mom, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay. I’m sorry about yesterday. I want you to come home.” Marina played the message three times, relief stinging her eyes. Zoe must have left the message before she left for school, but Marina dialed Lydia’s number anyway, and when there was no answer, left a message that she’d try again later.
There remained a full day before her departure, but not knowing what else to do with herself, Marina began to pack. She folded her clothes methodically, stacking them in neat piles on the bed as she tried to make sense of her thoughts. It was impossible not to feel relieved now that everything was out in the open, but at the same time, she felt guilty about feeling relieved, knowing that Sarah was suffering. Certainly they wouldn’t be having dinner together now, but maybe she could find Sarah later and they could talk things through. She couldn’t leave things as they were.
Marina changed into her jeans and a black cashmere turtleneck before sitting down at the desk to write her note.
Sarah, I’m devastated and sorrier than I can say to know that I’ve hurt you so deeply. I can’t bear the thought of leaving things as they are and am hoping we can talk before I leave the day after tomorrow. That morning I will give my presentation and then leave directly for the airport, but tomorrow I am free. Please call or leave a note at the hotel and I will come to you. There is still so much to say. M.
Sarah’s apartment would be her first stop. If she wasn’t there, Marina would leave a note and move on to Anita’s. If Sarah wasn’t at Anita’s, she’d go back to Sarah’s studio. She thought for a minute, then took another piece of stationery from the desk drawer and wrote a note identical to the first. She’d leave the second note at the studio, if she had to, and hope that Sarah would contact her. What more could she do?
The most direct route to Sarah’s apartment took her past the Caffè Gilli, its windows resplendent with igloos made out of marshmallow and spun sugar, marzipan penguins, glitter and gold leaf transforming the North Pole scene into a shimmering fantasyland. However, Marina gave them barely a glance as she hurried down a side street strung with white lights and shop windows filled with Christmas decorations and brightly wrapped packages. Her mouth watered as she passed a pizzeria, the air redolent with garlic and olive oil, but she hurried on until she came to Sarah’s street. It was dimly lit by the ambient light from a bar and too few street lamps. No one was on the street. Her heart pounded as she approached the building and her finger shook slightly as she reached out to press the bell. She waited, and when there was no response, pressed it again. Nothing. There was no way to leave the note without gaining access to the mailboxes in the foyer. She rang the bell just above Sarah’s, and then the one above that. Where was everyone? Just then the door opened and a young woman appeared with a baby in a stroller. Marina helped her maneuver the stroller over the stoop, and then stepped into the foyer.
Once inside, she decided to go up to the apartment and slip the note under the door so Sarah would see it sooner rather than later. Adrenaline made a knot of her stomach as she climbed the flight of stairs to the first floor. When she reached Sarah’s front door, she debated whether to knock or simply slip the note under it. After a moment’s hesitation, she rapped her knuckles against the dark wood. Silence. She knocked again and called out as loudly as she dared, her mouth close to the doorjamb. “Sarah, it’s me, Marina. We need to talk.” When there was still no answer, she slipped the note under the door and made her way back to the street. Her heart thumped against her spine as she leaned her sweat-soaked back against the building to catch her breath. She hadn’t given much, if any, thought to what she’d say once she found Sarah. She just wanted her to understand that she had never acted out of malice. Fear, cowardice, and immaturity may have had a hand in some of her choices, but never malevolence.