Well then…
We hadn’t spoken about it again. Now here I was, doing damage control. I probably drank too much on the plane. When I got off, I booked into my hotel and caught a cab to hers. She was staying at a Hilton close to the airport. Nancy hadn’t known which room she was in. I asked the front desk to call her and tell her that her son-in-law was there to see her. Then I sat in one of the lounge chairs near a fireplace and waited. She came down ten minutes later. I knew it was her by the picture I’d seen of her on the Internet. She was older than in the picture, more worn around the eyes and mouth. Her hair was dyed, no longer naturally red, still spiky and short. I eyed her face, looking for traces of Leah. It might have been my imagination, but when she spoke, I saw my wife in her expressions. I stood up to greet her, and she stared up in my face with complete calm. My little surprise trip hadn’t rattled her at all.
“You are Johanna’s husband? Yes?”
“Yes,” I said, waiting for her to take a seat. “Caleb.”
“Caleb,” she repeated. “I saw you on television. During the trial.” Then-”How did you know I was here?” Her accent was thick, but she spoke English well. She was sitting ramrod straight, her back not touching the chair. She looked more like Russian military than former Russian prostitute.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
She smiled. “We are going to have to answer each other’s questions if we want to get anywhere, no?”
“Her attorney’s office called me,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“Ah, yes. Ms. Olivia Kaspen.”
God. Her name even sounded good with a Russian accent.
I didn’t acknowledge or deny.
“Should we go to the bar? Order a drink,” she said.
I nodded, tight lipped. I followed her into the hotel bar, where she sat at a table near the front. Only after the bartender brought her vodka and my scotch, did she answer my question.
“I’ve come to meet my daughter.”
“She doesn’t want to meet you,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes and I saw Leah.
“Why not?”
“You gave her up a long time ago. She has a family.”
Anfisa scoffed. “Those people? I didn’t like them when they took her. The man didn’t even like children, I could tell right away.”
“That doesn’t speak very highly of you, giving your baby to people you didn’t even like.”
“I was sixteen years old and I slept with men to survive. I didn’t have much choice.”
“You had a choice to give her to people you liked.”
She looked away. “They offered me the most money.”
I sat my glass down harder than I intended. “She doesn’t want to see you,” I said firmly.
My statement seemed to jar her a little. She slouched some and her eyes darted around the empty bar like she couldn’t hold it together anymore. I wondered if this whole stiff-backed thing was an act.
“I need money. Just enough to write my next book. And I want to write it here.”
That’s what I thought. I took out my checkbook.
“You never come to Florida,” I said. “And you never try to contact her.”
She downed the rest of her vodka like a true Russian.
“I want a hundred thousand dollars.”
“How long will it take you to write the book?” I scrawled her name onto the check and paused to look up at her. She stared at that check with hunger in her eyes.
“A year,” she said, without looking at me. I held my pen above the amount line.
“I’ll divide it by twelve then. I’ll put money in an account every month. You contact her or leave New York, you don’t get your deposit.”
She eyed me with something I didn’t recognize. It could have been contempt. Hate for a situation that left her dependent on me. Annoyance that her blackmail wasn’t working as well as she wanted it to.
“What if I say no?”
I saw Leah in her defiance too.
“She won’t give you money. She will slam the door in your face. Then you’ll get nothing.”
“Well then, son-in-law. Sign my check and be done with it.”
And so I got done with it.
I changed my flight. Went home early. I didn’t ever hear much from Anfisa. I sent her money even after Leah and I separated and got divorced. I didn’t want her presence to hurt Estella, even if she wasn’t mine. When her year was up, she went back to Russia. I ran an Internet search for her once and saw that her book was a huge seller. Leah might hear from her eventually, but I was done with her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I go straight to her condo. If she’s not home already, I’ll be waiting there when she arrives.
She is home. When she opens the door, it’s as if she was expecting me. Her eyes and her lips are swollen. When Olivia cries, her lips double in size and turn bright red. It’s the most beautifully fragile and feminine thing about her.
She stands to the side to let me in, and I walk past her into the living room. She closes the door softly and follows me.
She wraps her arms around her body and stares out at the ocean.
“When you left and went to Texas, after we…” I break to let her catch up to what I’m saying. “I came after you. It took me a few months to get past my initial wounded pride, and to find you, of course. Cammie didn’t want to tell me you were there, so I just showed up on her doorstep.”
I tell her about how I waited at the side of the house when I saw the car coming, and how I heard the exchange between her and Cammie. About how I knocked on the door when she went upstairs to shower. I tell her all of it and I can’t tell if she can hear me, because her face is unmoving, her eyes unblinking. Her chest doesn’t even rise and fall with breath.
“I was on my way up the stairs, Duchess, when Cammie stopped me. She told me that you got pregnant after our night together. She told me about the abortion.”
Finally, the statue springs to life. Her fierce eyes turn on me. Blue fire — the hottest kind.
“Abortion?” The word tumbles out of her mouth. “She told you that I got an abortion?”
Now … now, her chest is rising and falling. Her br**sts straining against the fabric of her shirt.
“She inferred it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
We hadn’t spoken about it again. Now here I was, doing damage control. I probably drank too much on the plane. When I got off, I booked into my hotel and caught a cab to hers. She was staying at a Hilton close to the airport. Nancy hadn’t known which room she was in. I asked the front desk to call her and tell her that her son-in-law was there to see her. Then I sat in one of the lounge chairs near a fireplace and waited. She came down ten minutes later. I knew it was her by the picture I’d seen of her on the Internet. She was older than in the picture, more worn around the eyes and mouth. Her hair was dyed, no longer naturally red, still spiky and short. I eyed her face, looking for traces of Leah. It might have been my imagination, but when she spoke, I saw my wife in her expressions. I stood up to greet her, and she stared up in my face with complete calm. My little surprise trip hadn’t rattled her at all.
“You are Johanna’s husband? Yes?”
“Yes,” I said, waiting for her to take a seat. “Caleb.”
“Caleb,” she repeated. “I saw you on television. During the trial.” Then-”How did you know I was here?” Her accent was thick, but she spoke English well. She was sitting ramrod straight, her back not touching the chair. She looked more like Russian military than former Russian prostitute.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
She smiled. “We are going to have to answer each other’s questions if we want to get anywhere, no?”
“Her attorney’s office called me,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“Ah, yes. Ms. Olivia Kaspen.”
God. Her name even sounded good with a Russian accent.
I didn’t acknowledge or deny.
“Should we go to the bar? Order a drink,” she said.
I nodded, tight lipped. I followed her into the hotel bar, where she sat at a table near the front. Only after the bartender brought her vodka and my scotch, did she answer my question.
“I’ve come to meet my daughter.”
“She doesn’t want to meet you,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes and I saw Leah.
“Why not?”
“You gave her up a long time ago. She has a family.”
Anfisa scoffed. “Those people? I didn’t like them when they took her. The man didn’t even like children, I could tell right away.”
“That doesn’t speak very highly of you, giving your baby to people you didn’t even like.”
“I was sixteen years old and I slept with men to survive. I didn’t have much choice.”
“You had a choice to give her to people you liked.”
She looked away. “They offered me the most money.”
I sat my glass down harder than I intended. “She doesn’t want to see you,” I said firmly.
My statement seemed to jar her a little. She slouched some and her eyes darted around the empty bar like she couldn’t hold it together anymore. I wondered if this whole stiff-backed thing was an act.
“I need money. Just enough to write my next book. And I want to write it here.”
That’s what I thought. I took out my checkbook.
“You never come to Florida,” I said. “And you never try to contact her.”
She downed the rest of her vodka like a true Russian.
“I want a hundred thousand dollars.”
“How long will it take you to write the book?” I scrawled her name onto the check and paused to look up at her. She stared at that check with hunger in her eyes.
“A year,” she said, without looking at me. I held my pen above the amount line.
“I’ll divide it by twelve then. I’ll put money in an account every month. You contact her or leave New York, you don’t get your deposit.”
She eyed me with something I didn’t recognize. It could have been contempt. Hate for a situation that left her dependent on me. Annoyance that her blackmail wasn’t working as well as she wanted it to.
“What if I say no?”
I saw Leah in her defiance too.
“She won’t give you money. She will slam the door in your face. Then you’ll get nothing.”
“Well then, son-in-law. Sign my check and be done with it.”
And so I got done with it.
I changed my flight. Went home early. I didn’t ever hear much from Anfisa. I sent her money even after Leah and I separated and got divorced. I didn’t want her presence to hurt Estella, even if she wasn’t mine. When her year was up, she went back to Russia. I ran an Internet search for her once and saw that her book was a huge seller. Leah might hear from her eventually, but I was done with her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I go straight to her condo. If she’s not home already, I’ll be waiting there when she arrives.
She is home. When she opens the door, it’s as if she was expecting me. Her eyes and her lips are swollen. When Olivia cries, her lips double in size and turn bright red. It’s the most beautifully fragile and feminine thing about her.
She stands to the side to let me in, and I walk past her into the living room. She closes the door softly and follows me.
She wraps her arms around her body and stares out at the ocean.
“When you left and went to Texas, after we…” I break to let her catch up to what I’m saying. “I came after you. It took me a few months to get past my initial wounded pride, and to find you, of course. Cammie didn’t want to tell me you were there, so I just showed up on her doorstep.”
I tell her about how I waited at the side of the house when I saw the car coming, and how I heard the exchange between her and Cammie. About how I knocked on the door when she went upstairs to shower. I tell her all of it and I can’t tell if she can hear me, because her face is unmoving, her eyes unblinking. Her chest doesn’t even rise and fall with breath.
“I was on my way up the stairs, Duchess, when Cammie stopped me. She told me that you got pregnant after our night together. She told me about the abortion.”
Finally, the statue springs to life. Her fierce eyes turn on me. Blue fire — the hottest kind.
“Abortion?” The word tumbles out of her mouth. “She told you that I got an abortion?”
Now … now, her chest is rising and falling. Her br**sts straining against the fabric of her shirt.
“She inferred it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
