Slice Of Life

Edward had always been a woman chaser. He was fun, generous and good-looking. He never had problems getting dates. His relationships lasted two to four months. They were enjoyable for both parties, and even when they were over, there were no hard feelings. At least, on his part.

George Blake, District 6 Supervisor of the City of San Francisco, was his father. He was getting ready to run for his second term. His mother, Geraldine Blake was a church activist and a writer. Her book, “Abundance By God,” was quite a success among the church crowd. Edward himself worked as a financial director for a property development company in the Bay Area.

At the age of 35, blond-haired and green-eyed, Edward was a great but hard catch. Not because he never met anyone good, but rather because he did not want to be caught. That was until he met Grace.

He fell in love with her the very first time he saw her.

She was sitting with her back straight up and her eyes half closed. Her blonde hair was covering her face as she leaned forward, and revealed it when she jerked back. She was wearing a long black dress. Her porcelain white hands were flying over a piano keyboard. She was playing Tchaikovsky.

During the intermission, Edward looked for her in the foyer and in member’s rooms but she never showed up.

“Excuse me.” He stopped a waiter who was balancing a tray with of champagne glasses while navigating between the guests. “Is there a way to meet one of the players?”

The waiter looked at him puzzled.

“My cousin, I think I recognized my cousin in the orchestra.”

“Oh, but of course, sir. You can go to the backstage door, but,” he politely stopped Edward. “It’s second ring already and for sure you don’t want to miss the second half. I would recommend going there when the concert is over.”

So Edward did. While he was waiting for her, his heart raced and he felt as if he was sixteen again. Finally, she walked out. She was wearing a grey sweater and jeans. Her steps were light, her hair was loose, and she was smiling.

“You are amazing.”

"Excuse me?” She looked at him and he saw her striking blue eyes for the first time. She looked around; there was no one but the two of them. The smile disappeared from her face.

“I’m sorry. I mean, there, on the stage,” Edward continued.

“Oh, thank you.”

“And, now. You are amazing.”

She smiled in a way her whole being lit up.

“Can I offer to buy you a drink after all your hard work?” He asked.

She glanced down and then up at him. “That would be lovely.”

There was a restaurant down the street. That late at night, it was deserted; except for a few locals, they were the only people there. They chatted. She liked chardonnay, dogs and Rachmaninoff.

And he really liked her.

* * *

They dated for the next three months. He went to her every performance. They took long walks along the Bay, breathed in its salty air, and held hands. They lost count of the foggy mornings they spent together, drinking strong espresso and eating bagels with cream cheese and lox. At night, they snuggled by the fireplace, looking through the window into the grey waters of the Bay and the silhouette of the prison island and the bridge beyond, so mysterious and surreal. The nights they spent together were passionate and the days were peaceful. Edward loved her. She adored him.

Everything was perfect.

On Tuesday, October 15th, Edward got home early.

He found Grace crying on a floor.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He noticed a shoebox on her knees. She was going through pictures it contained.

“Who, who are all these woman?” She cried out, holding a picture in her hand. “Who are all those?”

He stared at the pictures. “My ex’s.”

“Your ex’s? All yours?” She grabbed another picture. “There are like four dozen pictures of different woman! All yours?”

“There’s nothing wrong with dating. Just calm down.”

“Calm down? And this one?” She picked up a picture. “Cannot wait to see you. Miss you soooo much. Love, Erika.” She read out loud. “Who’s Erika?”

“C’mon honey, it was before you. A long time ago.”

“Long time ago? Really? Why the hell do you keep the pictures then? And this.” She waved a picture in front of him. “Thank you for the wonderful Disneyland weekend. Alison loved it. Love, Lora.” She threw the picture at him. “Who is Alison? Your daughter?”

“No, for God’s sake, Grace, stop it. I dated her back in LA, years ago.”

“Stop it? I thought we were serious. I thought we were something…,” she stuttered for words, “special. I thought our relationship was special. And now, I see that everything I tell you, everything I do for you, you have heard it before. You have done it before! My cards, my gifts, there’s nothing new for you about it. I’m just one of your… girlfriends! You’ve done it all already!” She buried her face in her palms and started to cry.

“Grace.” He tried to comfort her.

“No, stay away from me!” She jumped up and looked at him. Her hair was messed up and her face was puffy. “Stay away from me. I need to get away. You… you are just a player and I…I believed you!”

“Grace!”

“Get out of my way!” She grabbed her purse and stormed out of the house.

* * *

Two months later, he still hadn’t heard from Grace. His calls went straight to voicemail. No one seemed to be at her home. At the symphony, he was told that she took all the vacation days that she had accumulated , and they could not tell him when she would be back.

Like a drug addict , Edward was obsessed with being in places he had been to with Grace. He took two weeks off from work and started tracing their steps back along the path they had traveled together. With a hope of running into her, he visited art galleries and patisseries of Carmel and tasting rooms of Los Olivos. But nothing brought him comfort.

“It’s like half of me is missing.”

“That sounds bad.” A soft, velvety voice took him out of his heavy thoughts.

“Excuse me?” He looked at the young woman sitting to his right.

“You were talking to yourself, which is fine with me. But you sounded pretty miserable.”

“I was talking to myself? You mean, out loud?”

She laughed with a deep laugh. “Sure, you did.” She leaned toward him. “At least, I could hear you just fine.”

Edward looked around. Somehow, he stumbled into “Chase”, one of his and Grace’s favorite places in Santa Barbara. Everything was just as he remembered: strings of lights across the ceiling, busy State Street outside, and bright signs of shops and restaurants. Inside, every single table was occupied either with happy-go-lucky looking locals or loud tourists.

He looked at the woman. She had curly red hair and grey eyes. She was wearing a lacy black dress, tight enough to accentuate her high breasts, tiny waist and wide hips but loose enough to be appropriate for her age, which, Edward assumed, was mid-thirties. The red color of her lips perfectly matched the color of her nails.

“Are you on a date?” he asked.

“Do I look like I’m on a date?” She drank the last sip of champagne.

“Kind of.”

“Up to you. You might consider me being on a date or consider me as a kind of woman who does not need to have a date to dress up and go out.”

“May I get you a glass of champagne?”

“You definitely may.”

“Champagne for the lady and another scotch on the rocks for me. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She looked around. “I love this place. There’s a sense of happiness and cheer, as if you just have to be happy here.” She looked at him. “Unless this person is… What’s your name?”

“Edward.”

“Edward,” she repeated softly.

“And yours?”

“Linda. Nice to meet you.” They were silent for a moment. “So Edward.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think that happiness is something within our own control?”

“I don’t know about that.” He had a sip. “You see, I had everything and then…”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to know what happened to you, no. I don’t want to know her name, how you met and when was the first time you kissed her.” Her face was so close to his, her skin was so porcelain white, her lips were so red, and her voice was so slow, low and intoxicating; just like her perfume, a blend of spice and lust. “I just know that there’s this handsome guy who sleepwalks and thinks out loud, who drinks scotch on the rocks all by himself in the best and the happiest place in Santa Barbara. And I know that we can cut this foreplay of misery and confession, go to my hotel room, make love and forget this game of chasing misery for a while.” She wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him. It was not a lingering and passionate one but a promise of both.

He kept looking at her. There was something about this woman that kept him looking at her--at every detail, from the curls of her hair the curve of her eyebrows, her eyes, the shape of her shoulders, the necklace resting on her chest, to her slim waist and wide hips wrapped in black lace. Everything was so perfect and mysterious, and her lips promised so much.

“Check, please.” He turned to the bartender.

* * *

She was staying at the Four Seasons in Montecito. Her room overlooked the ocean. They could hear live music playing from the patio of the Bella Vista Restaurant but they never went either to the ocean or to the restaurant. They spent three days locked in the room. They hung the “do not disturb” sign on the knob and called for food and drinks, which were left by the door.

They were consumed in each other. She was a skillful and fun lover. She excited him in all possible little ways. She was gentle; she caressed him, she ran her fingers through his hair, she nibbled on his ear lobe. She teased him. She used him. She never left him alone. She poured enough drinks to keep him engaged and aroused but never drunk and sleepy. For three days, she never let him think of or feel anything but her warm, graceful and soft body.

When he woke up on Tuesday morning, she was gone. There was no note. Not a single belonging of hers remained. Not even a hint of her perfume. She had disappeared into thin air.

Edward took a cold shower and went downstairs to the reception. He had three hours before his flight back to San Francisco. He proceeded to the bar and sat down at the empty counter.

“Double, no, make it a triple espresso and a glass of water.”

He picked up a copy of the "San Francisco Chronicle". As he was going through the pages, he saw an article about the much needed urban development which was being led by his company. There was a picture of his father as District Supervisor shaking hands with the head developer. Edward smiled.

“Here’s your triple espresso and a glass of water. You do look like you need a triple.”

Edward reached out for the glass and gulped down half of it, still reading the article.

“She can wear anyone out.” The bartender continued.

Edward choked on his coffee.

“Are you ok, sir?”

“Yes, yes, I’m ok,” He stared at the man behind the counter. “What did you just say?”

“Linda. Linda can wear anyone out.”

Edward froze. “Do you mean, she’s a... Or shit!” He grabbed the paper with his father picture. “Do you mind if I take it?”

“Not at all, sir. Are you sure you’re ok?”

Edward grabbed his suitcase. “Keep the change.”

He ran out of the hotel and got into his car where he finally caught his breath. “Crap!” He started the car. “What if it comes out?” He headed toward the freeway. “Three nights at the Four Seasons with a prostitute! Great. Ok, I did not know who she was. Right? Right. Who cares? What a great headline! Good Republican family, District 6 Supervisor’s son, father runs for second term, son runs to prostitutes. Shit, shit, shit! Idiot!”

He landed at the San Francisco Airport and took a cab home. As he got out of the car at his house on Marina Boulevard, he saw her.

Grace.

She was sitting on the front steps with her red suitcase next to her. She was wearing a white dress with tiny blue flowers, so light, summery and so 50s.

“Grace!” He dropped his suitcase and rushed to her. “Grace!” He squeezed her in his arms, buried his face in her long blonde hair and covered her face with kisses.

“Oh, Edward!” She whispered. “I was such an idiot! I was so incredibly silly.” She rushed the words. “Will you ever, ever forgive me for being so, so stupid?” She pushed her head against his chest. “I just, I was so wrong! I just cannot, cannot live without you. There’s just no way! I love you, I love you so much.”

“Grace, my love, I missed you, I really, really missed you!”

“Will you, will you ever forgive me?” She looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. “The past is in the past. I was wrong for judging you. Will you forgive me?” She bit her lip.

“Will I?” He took her face into the palms of his hands and kissed her tears. “I’m just so happy that you’re back, baby.”

* * *

Grace moved in with him. Their wedding date was set and announced. Edward’s parents, George Baker and Mrs. Geraldine Baker, adored her to pieces.

“She’s old school. You rascal, you got lucky. She’s perfect,” his father said to Edward.

Edward’s parents came to visit, just like they did every Sunday for the past half-a-year. After dinner, while Grace and Geraldine were deciding on seating arrangements for the wedding, father and son had a man-to-man talk by the fireplace in the library. It was their favorite room: they were surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves and hunting trophies, masterfully stuffed and hung on the walls. Even though it was spring time, it was one of those cold and gloomy days, and the warmth of the fireplace and old cognac mellowed both men. They were looking at the grey Bay outside and feeling good for not being out there. Mr. Baker talked about his campaign, which was going well.

“Stability and family values are popular once again. Not for long, of course, but enough for my second term,” he joked.

Edward felt as if luck was on his side once again. His cheerful attitude, innovative ideas and confidence in the future had gotten him a big promotion.

The phone rang.

“Mr. Edward, that’s for you.” Maggie the maid announced.

“Who’s that?” Edward kept on staring at the grey water of the Bay.

“It’s a woman.”

“Can you take a message? I’ll call her back later.”

“She says it’s urgent and it’s private.”

“Get her number. I’ll call back.” He took a sip.

“She said it’s important. It’s something to do with Santa Barbara.”

Edward turned pale. “Oh, crap.”

His father looked at him above his reading glasses.

“I’ll take it in the study, Maggie.” He turned to George. “Sorry, Dad. Business.” He went down to his study, shut the door, turned on the table light, and closed the draperies. “It’s Edward.”

“Good evening, Edward. My name is Eva. I’m a good friend of Linda. You remember Linda, don’t you?” Edward did not recognize the voice. He thought that it had a slight accent.

“So?”

“I’ve got wonderful news for you.” There was a minute of silence on the phone. “Linda is pregnant.” Another minute. “She’s going to have a baby. Your baby.”

“Listen, lady, that’s bullshit,” Edward said calmly. “I know what Linda is. And it’s not my baby. You’re not going to put it on me.” He hung up.

He stood there for a few moments, gulped down his cognac and went back to the library.

“Is everything ok?” His father looked at him.

“Yes, Dad, it’s fine.”

“You look damn pale. Have some cognac.”

“It’s…it’s some business. Totally slipped through my fingers.” He poured himself a drink. “Mess, but I’ll deal with it.”

“Oh, good. It’s a bad time for troubles right now. Trouble mean publicity.”

The next day at his office, Edward received an envelope he had to sign for personally. It contained papers from a medical office stating that Linda Ronsky was six months pregnant with a healthy baby girl who was conceived at the beginning of December the previous year. A DNA test was enclosed.

That night, Edward persuaded Grace to spend the evening with her girlfriends. He did not expect her back before 11 pm. He paced in his study waiting for the phone to ring. “She’ll never forgive me. She’s so old-fashioned. She’ll tell me to take care of the baby. A baby girl and its prostitute mom! What great publicity for an old-fashioned Republican family.”

The phone rang. He picked it up. “Edward.”

“Hello, Edward. You sound excited and I don’t think it’s related to the campaign and wedding planning.” The woman’s voice was soft and calm. “I suppose you got the papers.”

“You know I did.”

“If you consider hanging up on me again, you’ll get a court order next.” The woman fell silent. “So, are we talking?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. Smart choice. Linda will sign papers releasing you from all financial and parental responsibilities in return for one and a half million. Five hundred thousand in cash and the rest in bearer bonds.”

Edward stared at the green shade of the table lamp. One and a half million was less than he expected to hear. It would put a dent in his finances but he would be able to recover in a few years. “My lawyer will get the release papers ready, not yours.” He looked at the picture of him and Grace on his desk.

“Oh, that’s totally fine. Let’s meet, say, Thursday? Sound reasonable?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Good night, Mr. Baker.” She hung up.

If only it was over on Thursday! The woman sounded so business-like that he believed that it would be over. He could get the money tomorrow but still, he needed a good lawyer to draw up the papers. He dialed the phone.

“Dad, hi. Yes, I know it’s late. Remember that business I had to deal with a few days ago? Oh, no, nothing to worry about. But I do need a lawyer. Could you give me Larry’s phone? Yes, thanks, Dad.”

On Thursday, Edward parked on the corner of Broadway and Mason. He walked along busy streets, past people sitting at outdoor tables, past a cacophony of voices and aromas, until he got to his final destination. It was a bar. Its windows were tinted black and paint on the walls was chipped and cracked. He hesitated for a few moments in front of the old-fashioned door, and then he turned the knob and walked in. It was pitch black inside. Edward blinked his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness. After a while, he could make out a silhouette of an old-fashioned counter with empty stools along it and rows of bottles against a mirrored wall. He looked around and noticed a dim red light coming from one of the booths to his right. He slowly walked toward the light. His footsteps were dying into the soft rug beneath his feet. His breathing was silent and there was not a sound coming in from the outside. As he moved closer, he recognized the scent of an expensive Cuban cigar mixed with the aroma of Yves Saint Laurent’s “Opium”.

Edward stopped at a booth. There was a low lamp in the middle of the table which was barely shining light through its dark red shade. In the corner of the booth, he saw a silhouette of a woman.

Cozy, he thought. “Hi, I’m Edward. I suppose you’re Eva,” he said.

The woman nodded. She was holding a short slim cigar. Her face was hidden beneath a long brimmed hat, which was tilted to her right. Edward could only see the lower part of her face: dark red lipstick and blonde hair waving down to her shoulders. Her bare neck was framed with deep V-cut black dress. He assumed she was in her late 40ss.

She rested her cigar into the ashtray. “You may sit down.”

Her voice sounded calm and affirmative. She talked with a slight accent which Edward could not quite place: it was too soft to be German and not melodical enough to be French. “Did you bring the bonds?”

He placed the briefcase on the table and opened it.

She got the papers out and counted them. “It’s all good.” She smiled. “I suppose, you want yours, now.” She got out the papers Edward had sent her the day before. “Here they are. Signed, stamped and notarized as agreed.”

Edward read through them. “Seems all right.”

She rolled a pen over. “Sign the release of the bonds.”

He did. “All done.” He gave her the paper and closed his briefcase.

“My pen?”

He handed it to her. For the first time, he noticed her hands. They were of a beautiful shape but they had known some hard work.

“Do not follow me.” She got up and slowly walked along the booths toward the exit.

Edward looked after her as she was walking away. Here, in a dark empty and silent bar, she looked like a character out of a silent movie. She belonged here in a long ballroom dance dress that hugged her waist, and a long brimmed hat, tilted to the right.

He saw a flash of light. He heard the door shut.

He stayed in this world of shadows and complete silence for a while. Then, he got up; followed Eva’s footsteps along the dark booths, the counter and the empty stools. He got to the door and opened it.

The bright daylight momentarily blinded him. He closed his eyes. He listened to the noise of the street. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face.

He opened his eyes.

“It’s over. It’s all over now.”

* * *

It was a warm, sunny day in the middle of June. A cab stopped at an apartment building on Fillmore Street in San Francisco. A young woman, wearing a yellow polka dot dress and a white hat, got out of the taxi and walked inside the building. She went upstairs to a third floor apartment and rang the doorbell.

“It’s open!” She heard from the inside. “Come it!”

She walked in.

“Hey, I know I’m a little late but I could not escape the Supervisors’ wives gossip club any earlier.” She took off her hat and mended her hair. “Is Linda here?”

“She’s on the patio. I’m getting champagne. I’ll be up there in a minute. Go ahead and join her.”

Grace followed the familiar spiral staircase to the patio on the roof.

"Gosh, what a view!” She stopped at the last step, as she always did and looked over the Bay on the horizon, at the high rises of the financial district and roofs down below.

“Grace, is that you?” Linda lifted herself in a chair and turned.

“Don’t move. You look comfortable.” Grace walked to her and gave her a long hug. “How’s the baby?”

"Good.” Linda rested her hand on her round belly. “She’s kicking. And, oh gosh, did I got sick a lot in my first trimester.”

“Is everyone ready?” Eva placed a tray with three champagne glasses on a little table. The light blue dress she was wearing made her look younger than she was. “It’s hot for June!” She put her blonde hair up with a pin. “Much better. Ok, let’s begin. Here, this is for you, Linda, alcohol removed, don’t argue with me, and the real deal for me and Grace.”

“Eva, I love you but sometimes you are way too hard on me.” Linda made a funny face at her fake champagne.

“Ok, here’s to friendship and all of our dreams coming true!”

"Cheers!”

Eva sat down across the table and looked at Grace and Linda. “Gosh, I missed you, girls!” Her eyes watered.

“Please, please, please, Eva, no tears! It’s a happy day. May I have more champagne?” Linda gave Eva the empty glass. “Grace’s getting married and though her dear husband is one and a half million poorer, he learned his lesson and is not going to stray again.”

“You know, Linda, that’s true.” Grace leaned back on her chair. “He’s changed big time. He’s not a player anymore. He grew up. I mentioned that I would love to go to Santa Barbara last week and, oh my God, I wish you could see his face! By the way, Linda, how’s your girlfriend? That hostess from Four Seasons?

“Oh, Monica? She’s good. I just chatted with her last week. Her boyfriend, the bartender, do you remember? He proposed and they’re getting married next year.”

"Good for them! I never met him but from what I heard from you girls, he’s a nice man.” Eva looked toward the Bay. “You know, it’s true what people say: a faithful friend is better than gold.”

“Yep! The Four Seasons was Monica’s idea. How could I ever afford it with what I make? And Eva, you got your own place and your future is secured.”

“Cheers to that. No more moochers!” Eva hammered down the words. “No one will ever walk away and leave me with a mortgage! Ouch! Done!” She took a sip of champagne. “Oh, that’s a really good one.”

Grace turned to Linda. “And what’s new in the engineering world?”

“So far so good. I’m on disability leave for one and a half months starting in August”

“That’s not long!”

“No, but I can work from home after that, or part time, or… whatever. I’ll figure it out.”

“And, I’m going to help with the baby. More champagne anyone?”

"Yes, why not?” Grace handed up her glass. “Too bad you both can’t be at my wedding!”

“Oh, that would be hilarious if we showed up!”

"Ok, for friendship! Cheers!”