Lucy by the Sea (Amgash, #4)(38)

And when I thought of my apartment, I remembered that David had almost always been there. Because of his bad hip, he did not go out for long walks, or to the gym the way other men might have, he had always been there except when he was at rehearsal or playing at the Philharmonic at night, and I thought of that now—that the apartment, it held no appeal for me.

I thought of David’s cello where it sat in the corner of the bedroom in its case, and the thought of it disturbed me. It was almost off-putting, the image of his cello.

This frightened me. It petrified me, the idea that the apartment waiting for me in New York was not one I felt any genuine connection to—it made me panic in a way I had not panicked while this entire pandemic had been going on. I got up and went downstairs, and then out onto the porch, and then out onto the lawn, and the moon was almost full and I watched the water down below, the tide was coming in, and the water was lazily slapping at the rocks below me.

Mom, help me, I’m so scared!, I said to my made-up mother, but her answer—I know, Lucy, and I’m sorry—was weak. Oh dear God! I had made up everything in my life, I thought! Except for my girls, and maybe even them I had made up, I mean their graciousness to me and to each other, how did I know?

I turned around but my vision was blurry, and I could only see our house on this cliff, almost tilting in my mind, because I was so frightened. I sat down on the grass and said to myself, Lucy, stop this! But I could not stop, I kept picking at the grass and my hand was shaking.

Oh please help me, I thought, please please—but when you are really panicking there is no answer for it, and I knew that.

I wept, but not much, I cannot always cry.



* * *



—

I got up and went back inside, almost stumbling, and I could hear William coming out of the bathroom upstairs, and so I went quickly up the stairs and I said, “Pill, Pillie, oh God.”

And he was on his way back to his room and he looked at me and he said, “Oh Lucy, you look so pretty.”

He said that!

I said, “Are you crazy? I look like an old woman in a mug shot!”

And he said, “No, you look pretty, your hair is down and your little nightgown, but, Lucy, you’ve gotten far too thin.”

And then he seemed to notice my distress, and he said, “Lucy, what is it?”

I went into his room and began to cry. To really, really cry. I said, “William, I am so homesick!”

And he started to be nice, but I said, “No, you don’t understand, I have no home to go to!”

He said, “Of course you do, Lucy, you have your apartment—”

And I said, “No, no! You don’t understand! It’s a place where I lived, and I loved David, but it was never a home. William, why wasn’t it a home?” And then I said, “The only real home I ever had in my whole life, I had with you. And the girls.” And I cried and cried. He opened his arms to me and brought me to sit with him on the bed. “Come here, Button,” he said. “Sit on my lap,” he said, and I did.

He held me very tightly. I had forgotten the strength of William’s arms. It had been years since he had held me. And I said, “Closer, Pillie, hold me closer.”

And he said, “If I hold you any closer, I’ll be behind you.” Just as he had when we were young: the line from Groucho Marx.



* * *



—

He hugged me for a long time, rocking me slightly back and forth. His kindness made me cry harder, and then I finally cried myself out.

William said, “Okay now, Lucy.” He brushed back the thin strands of hair by my face. “I have a few suggestions.”

“What,” I said, and I ran the back of my hand against my nose.

“I think you should give up the apartment.”

“I can’t!” I kind of yelled this.

But William stayed calm, and he said, “All I am saying is just think about it. Okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But just think about it. Are you listening to me?”

I nodded.

“Okay.” He reached again and tucked my hair behind my ear, and he looked at me in a way that was very sweet and intimate. “Oh Button. You don’t have to worry as much as you do.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because you have me.” He put his hand on the back of my head and gently pulled me toward him.



* * *



—

Afterward, I put my nightgown back on right away; I felt like a shy new bride.

William said to me, “So this is it, right?”

And I said, “You mean until we die?”

And he half-smiled, we were lying next to each other in his bed, and he reached to touch my nose with the tip of his finger and he said, “No, stupid-head, I mean forever and beyond.”

We slept in the same bed every night after that, except sometimes he snored and I would go back to my own bed, but when he got up and felt anxious—I could half feel this in my sleep—I got up and went back into bed with him.

And that was that.



* * *



—

I will say this, and then I will not say any more about it:

But many, many years ago I knew a woman who had had an affair with a man for six years, and he was impotent. I asked her—I knew her well at that time—what it was like to have an affair with a man who was impotent; he had had kidney surgery, I think, and it had left him this way. And this woman said to me—she was a quiet-spoken woman, and she said this to me with a small smile, she said this quietly—“Lucy, you would be surprised how little difference it makes.”