Journey Over Water
Walking through the streets of Paris in that time, that time following the first World War, was like stepping into a dreamscape. The air was thick was the scent of freshly baked baguettes, mingling with the coffee aroma that wafted from the streetside cafes. The architecture was a mix of grand boulevards and winding streets, and this was appropriate, because the public, the grand façade, inevitably wound its way to narrow, intimate scenes, and painful conversation, such was the one Diana and Hannah were having now.
Diana leaned forward, flicking her cigarette ash into a cut glass bowl, the epitome of chic distinction in this, as in everything.
“Do you really want to know the whole story?” She asked Hannah.
Hannah was not sophisticated. Hannah was a pond in the woods, a cabin with a lamp in the window. Hannah was all things dreary and domestic. Hannah was everything Diana was not.
“I do,” said Hannah, quietly.
“A lank twenty five year old,” boasted Diana. “I met him on the Rue de-la-Montagne-Sainte-Genevieve, at La Rotonde, but as you know, he’s from Pamplona. He was in Paris on holiday. I think it was the only one he’d every had, or something. I remember it all so clearly. He was dressed in a white shirt and cream colored trousers, black hair slicked back, an inch shorter than me. Tell me, Hannah, did you think we were mismatched, physically?”
“I never met him,” said Hannah, quietly.
“That’s true, you never did. I’d forgotten. You always seem to be somewhere on the margin, a sort of black cat with peering eyes…stuck in a tree, or, in this case, winding around the ankles of the patrons at La Rotonde.”
“There’s no need to get ugly,” said Hannah.
“But I wasn’t darling!” protested Diana, raising her eyebrows. She paused for a second. “Maybe I was. It’s had to know these days what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. I’m a collection of…hats. Sleek racer hats, plumed Victorian hats…a collection of postures.”
Hannah did not respond.
“Anyway, we saw each other, we began to talk, but darling, he was half my age. It was just a terrible, terrible thing, really, for me to lead him on the way I did.”
“I wish you’d tell me about Harold, and how he fits into all this,” said Hannah, gently.
Diana blinked for a moment, smoothed back her bobbed hair.
“I’d almost forgotten, I got so busy talking about-”
“Yes,” agreed Hannah.
“These foreigners, they do something to a woman, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Harold…You’ll need to talk to Harold. Because, you see, I’m going away.”
“Why should I talk to Harold?”
“Because Harold and I have had a fling,” said Diana, breezily.
Hannah sat silent, digesting. Her face was impenetrable, a study in Grecian marble.
“I admire your remarkable calm,” said Diana. “You see, Wyatt, my new friend, is an heir-”
“I know that too,” said Hannah, not betraying emotion.
“Candy. All Wyatt’s money comes from the family candy factories.”
“Yes,” said Hannah. “Why are you telling me this?”
“My, you’re rather modern,” said Diana. “ I had an affair with your husband. Don’t you want to know?”
“Of course I want to know. But now I have to leave him.”
“You don’t have to leave,” sniffed Diana. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Hannah raised a cup of coffee to her lips, then set it down again without taking a sip.
“Do you want a drink or something?”
“No, I have to get back soon. I told the sitter I’d only be gone an hour.”
“Well, I should think she’d be understanding. My God, you just found out your husband cheated on you.”
“I wanted to clear my conscience. Wyatt and I are traveling, you see. His father has a ranch in New Mexico. Darling, I’m dying.”
Hannah stared at her.
“Darling, I have TB. I had a chest X ray. It’s advanced. The doctors say I haven’t much time left.”
“What!” gasped Hannah. She stared, shaking a little.
“Oh you’re sweet,” said Diana, patting her hand. “I think you’re taking it rather worse than I am.”
“And Wyatt-should he-”
“He knows,” said Diana. “He seems alright. There’s nothing we can do now, anyway. We thought the dry air-the ranch-”
“Yes,” agreed Hannah, for the millionth time. She caught herself, and laughed a little. “I’ve very agreeable,” she said, sarcastically.
“So you see, darling, there’s really no reason to leave Harold. I’m on the move again, and I haven’t much time left. That’s why I thought I should tell you. There’s no reason you-”
“When was it?” interrupted Hannah.
“Oh, God, lots of times. In Pamplona, in Paris, even once in Chicago. For years. But it doesn’t matter, it’s all over now.”
“But I’m still living. It’s not over for me.”
“I should like you to think of me fondly, since I’m dying.”
“But I can’t think of you fondly.”
“Even though I’m dying?” squealed Diana.
“Even though,” said Hannah. “Well,” she mused, “In the abstract sense. In the tragedy-of-the-world sense. That great big Wheel of Fortune, Lear out on the Moors and all that. My Vassar schoolgirl sense, hurrying along tree lined avenues with books under arm. But that sense is limited, and Harold and I and the baby, we are living and breathing, heavy with flesh. Even me. I feel the weight of my own flesh just now.”
“Well, you’re a bitch,” said Diana, angrily. “If I can haunt you from the other side, I want you to know, I have every intention of doing so.”
“That’s fair,” said Hannah.
“It was just the child, you know. You were so maternal, in dowdy clothing, fussing with diapers.”
“Exactly,” agreed Hannah.
“I hate to think I’m leaving a mess.”
“You are,” said Hannah.
Diana shrugged.
“Well, I’m off,” she said finally. “I won’t keep you any longer. The sitter won’t like it.”
She gathered up her purse, smoothed back her hair, and flounced out the door. Hannah sat a moment longer, dug in her purse for some coins, paid the bill for the two of them, and walked out herself.
Some people will always make you pay, she thought. The thought approached her timidly, like a starving dog, wary but desperate enough to take a chance, but she allowed it, absently tousled the matted fur on its head, encouraged it. It was the way of the world. The things they teach you at college, at Vassar. Not to take it too personally. The baby. The sitter was waiting. So difficult to get good help these days. In Paris the girls expect everything. Seaside resorts were better-exclusive-if one could afford it. Could they afford it? Something to think about. Lots of things to think about. But the baby, the baby. She quickened her steps.
