"I hate to brush my teeth," Marian muttered, more to herself than to Miss Cresset who was busily arranging a series of weekly appointments.
Cresset looked up over her glasses, with her wise-owl expression. She was about sixty-years-old; her uniform was crisp and spotless. Her back was straight, her hair was iron-grey, with marcelled curls — never a strand out of place.
It made Marian aware of the tightness in the waistband of her skirt, of the fact that her hair needed washing, that her blouse wasn't crisp or spotless. During lunch with Marty she had spilled coffee on the front, had forgotten to wash it off.
"Tooth brushing is one of those routines we all dislike but we do it anyway don't we?" Miss Cresset was saying. "I put you down for nine o'clock Mondays. That way it won't interfere with your working schedule."
Marian found herself nodding in agreement though she hated Monday mornings. But if Miss Cresset thought Monday would not interfere with her schedule, without a doubt,
it
would
not
interfere.
"Miss Melnik, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
Marian was staring at the receptionist's marcelled curls, wondering if it ever got messy or tousled. "Of course not. Ask away!"
"I just wondered if there was a reason why you haven't been coming on time to your appointments," said Miss Cresset.
"What?" There was a thud in her stomach. It was as if Mamma had caught her reading the medical book in the bathroom.
Miss Cresset had her wise-owl expression. "You were exactly ten minutes late, you know. Last time too. Exactly ten minutes. I just wondered. You and your father were always so punctual."
Nobody ever had to remind Marian Melnik about being on time. "I honestly didn't realize…uh…I…uh…thought I was," she faltered foolishly.
"I can make it later if you like?" Miss Cresset's pencil was hovering over the appointment book. "When I make appointments for your Mother, I always tell her 9:15 if I want her to see the Doctor at 9:30."
"Monday is fine, thank you. I assure you, I'll be here at nine on the dot!"
Arriving three minutes to nine on the following Monday morning, Marian noticed the scaffolding at the entrance of the building. The grey brick front was almost obscured by pipes, ladders, platforms, walkways. Workmen were unloading slabs of pink marble with the help of a crane.
"Our building's getting a face-lift. Everything's changing all around us!" said a voice from behind.
It was Miss Cresset. She was wearing a mannish, pin-striped, tailored grey suit. To see her out in the world, out of uniform, not at the desk, was a shock. Curls actually did escape the marcelled hairdo! In the bright morning light her smile had deep creases on each side like an H. Twig-like lines branched out of the corners of her eyes, the eyelids were puffy, her skin was blotchy. There was more than a trace of wattling on the skin of her neck.
"All that change going on around us! It makes one feel old, doesn't it?" said Miss Cresset as they went up in the elevator.
That session with Dr. Rothman massaging her gums, Marian kept talking to Miss Cresset in her mind:
...I certainly hope you're not including me in that remark. I don't feel old. I am certain
ly
aware how everything all around us is changing! You think I'm standing still
...?
As Marian was leaving the office the real Miss Cresset said, "Goodbye Miss Melnik, we'll see you next Monday a week from now."
...I'm much younger than you are and I'm not like my Mamma! I am going on a diet for one thing, and I'll certainly never wear a mannish, pin striped tailored suit...
That
was what Marian felt like saying. But all Marian said out loud politely was, "Yes. Have a nice week. So long!"
While Mamma was busy reading in the living room, Marian fiddled with combinations of notes. She hadn't touched the piano in weeks. She kept thinking about Miss Cresset.
...Is that what I'm going to be — a spinster like Miss Cresset? Just a dusty grey fixture? Tucked away in this room, writing a stupid spinster concerto
…?
Suddenly Marian banged out dissonant chords, F Minor, fortissimo.
When Mamma interrupted to ask if Marian wouldn't mind playing more softly, Marian put her head down on the piano and wept.
Thirty-four-and-a-half-years-old and except for sentimental tears at the movies, it was the first time Marian Melnik had wept since the day, eleven years ago, when they'd gone to the cemetery for the unveiling of Anatol Melnik's tombstone.
Marian accepted Marty Silverman's invitation to a party that weekend. She let him pick her up at her home. He sat in the living room with Mamma and Aunt Paula who was visiting. Marian did not interrupt when Aunt Paula asked, "Are you orthodox Jewish or reformed, young man? Where are your parents from? And what business was your father in, Mr. Silverman?" She could feel her Aunty's brain stirring and cooking, planning where to have the wedding, who should officiate, how many invitations to the reception afterward, and should the newlyweds get their own apartment or move in with dear sister Hannah.
The party was a second-rate six-o'clock cocktail hour, filled with second class everything, including the dip hors d'oeuvre, the house brand booze in the name brand bottles, the up and coming second-rate artists, models, advertising agency executives, assistant managers and manager's assistants like herself and Marty. It was exactly the kind of party that Marian never attended, hated to attend.
Ferris Cooper started up a conversation with Marian.
He was not second-rate. He was very tall, handsome, and athletic looking, an unattached bachelor of thirty-two. He talked about Aristotle, the Cleveland Symphony's performance of a Bartok Concerto as opposed to the Chicago Symphony's performance conducted by Solti. He talked about theater and poetry and the fact that he did not like parties. He was in advertising, obviously on his way up a corporate ladder — he was sailing in ten days on the Queen Elizabeth II, going to London to close a deal and then to vacation.
Airborne, so giddy and cozy and full of laughter after an almost non-stop two-hour party conversation with Ferris Cooper, Marian let Marty kiss her goodnight at the door. She couldn't think about rules and principles. It was all a kind of sparkling jumble in her mind. She promised herself she'd analyze it in the morning.
Miss Cresset was concentrating on the Health Insurance forms. "We haven't made your appointments for the next few weeks, Miss Melnik. The Doctor says the condition is improved, so you might skip next week. Could you come in a week from next Monday, nine-thirty instead of nine?"
"No! No, I can't," said Marian. There was no reason for saying no, no reason why she couldn't come at nine-thirty Monday after next. There was nothing special happening except the same old job routine.
"Well, what about a week from Tuesday?"
"No." Marian was trying to remember if Ferris Cooper's eyes were grey or light blue.
"Oh?" Miss Cresset looked up, eyebrows raised. "Well, I'll put you down for Monday two weeks from today, all right?"
"No! I'll be…I'm sailing on the Queen Elizabeth II. In ten days…uh …with my fiancé! Sort of business and pleasure!" The look of amazement on Miss Cresset's face made Marian compound the lie. "We're probably going to be married in London."
"Why that's wonderful, Miss Melnik! I had no idea you were engaged!"
Marian replied, "Yes, isn't it lovely." But silently, to herself she was saying, "You don't think I have it in me, do you? You think I'm going to end up a fixture like you."
Miss Cresset walked Marian to the door. "Dr. Rothman will want to check those gums when you and your husband get back, do let us know when you return."
"Oh yes, I'll send you a postcard from London!"
Going down in the elevator, panic set in.
...Oh God, I can never come back here again. What will I do if my gums start bleeding again? Suppose I get a toothache...
Outside, Marian looked back up at the sixth floor window of the dentist's office. The renovations were almost complete, the old grey brick was now pink marble, strips of steel and glass replaced the old-fashioned wood-framed windows. The building was streamlined and modern.
She walked into the crowded street, ignored the honking horns, stopped a taxi which was going in the wrong direction, had him take her to the passport office. Applications in hand, she went into the nearest travel office and made reservations, but as she was putting the schedules and ticket information into her purse, she felt sick to her stomach.
...What am I doing here? Why oh why did I lie to Miss Cresset? This is going to cost a fortune
...!
She was ready to cancel everything.
...My God, I can't
not
go! Suppose Mamma has to
go
the dentist — Miss Cresset will start asking about my trip
...
In the days that followed, while getting vaccinations, clothing and travelers checks, she was up and down with guilt, worry, and goose pimple excitement.
...This is crazy Marian Melnik, you're shirking your responsibilities! What about your job, they depend on you? And Mamma needs you! You don't even know the man and if you do bump into him on the boat you might not recognize him. He's almost three years younger than you! For all you know he's already got a steady girl friend...
"I wish you didn't have to make this trip, Marian darling," Mamma said wistfully. "You're all I've got left in the world."
Mamma had said that sort of thing many times but this time Marian refused to respond. "I'm sorry but I have to go, Mamma," she replied, "Business is business."
Fortunately Mamma never had a head for business. She signed the legal paper that Marian slid in front of her, without reading a word.
Marian, wondered what Mamma would say if she read the legal paper she'd just signed. The relatives, the manager, the owners, Marty, her music teacher, Miss Cresset — what would they think if they realized that the entire thing was a fabrication.
"The firm is sending me on this trip so I can look over European merchandising techniques," that was the fib Marian had told most of them. All except the owners to whom she had said, "I've got to get away. I'm exhausted and my Doctor says I must have a rest." And that was another untruth. She hadn't been to a Doctor, except for a vaccination. She wasn't exhausted. She was incredibly exhilarated as if she'd been renovated, modernized, renewed.
The worst lie, the real monster lie was the paper that Mamma had signed. It was an affidavit attesting to the fact that the birth certificate of Marian Melnik had been lost; it stated under the notary's seal and signatures, the time, place and date of her birth. A terrible lie, a vain lie, a gorgeous lie it was, for it made Marian Melnik forever after, five years younger.
She had made herself exactly the age of her brother Ralph. Would Anatol have understood?
"Don't you understand, Daddy," Marian said to him in her mind. "I lost
ten
years. All I did was borrow back
five
."
++++++++++
Chapter
5
The daylight was almost gone when Marian Cooper woke from her nap. "It's jet lag," Marian decided. "That's why I've been tense."
There was a bad taste in her mouth but the tooth ache and the thud in the pit of her stomach were gone.
"Go do your Schedule!" Marian ordered herself. Work was the cure for travel disorientation.
She got out of the bed carefully, not wanting to mess up the spread or disturb his pillow, which was still tucked in like a sausage. Smoothing the sheets so the bed would be fresh and ready for bedtime later that evening, she shivered, anticipating how lovely it was going to be, making love with her man, going to sleep with his arms around her again. She wondered where Ferris was right at that moment and if he was anticipating and longing for her to be home.
Marian surveyed her maid's room office — the empty letter file, phone, desk clock, the framed photo that had been taken on their honeymoon in Bermuda. His face was chiseled, the features strong. Side by side they looked almost like brother and sister, both slender, tall and elegant. Super Secretary Elena was always teasing, "You're the ideal couple!"
Marian put an imaginary kiss on the photo. It was still incredible to Marian that Ferris Cooper had fallen in love with her on that fairy tale trip, and fit the glass slipper to her Cinderella foot. "Suppose I hadn't gone to the second sitting for lunch?" Never would she cease to be amazed at how all the major things in LIFE revolved around happenstance, frail blind luck. Because of a box of chocolates, she'd escaped from becoming a Miss Cresset.
...The QUEEN ELIZABETH II... Standing there on the first deck, Marian Melnik, thirty-four-and-a-half-years-old, felt like a deserted child. As the last of the relatives were making their final "Bon Voyages" and giving her the chocolates and flowers, Marian wished she could curl up and disappear like the smoke from the smoke stacks that was disappearing into the blue and white gold-rimmed clouds overhead.