After nearly 3 months absence, Sara finally came back from Paris. Max & Sara hadn’t seen each other since they had argued in Paris a month ago, the night of their honeymoon, when she accidentally came across his letters to Rebecca.
Sara had spent most of her life putting on airs & mastering the arts of affectation & seduction. Men in her life were a means to an end. If it was getting a 10-karat diamond necklace or having her father’s financial advisor convince Claude to send her to Paris for cultural exchange at 13 instead of a Swiss boarding school where ‘all’ Whitman women were sent to be “finished,” Sara always managed to get her way through her masterful yet effortless manipulation of men. Not that she ever needed anything material since her father spoiled her to death & always saw to it that she was never in ‘want’ of anything, it was, for Sara, nonetheless the thrill of the game.
But Sara never met a man quite like Max Gallagher. She thought him uncouth & unrefined, &, at first, thought that it was simply the novelty of him that intrigued & fascinated her. But as time went on, she realized it was much more than that. It bothered Sara to no end that she was beginning to really care for him. Yet he continued to elude her. Sara was a master at hiding her feelings and always keeping her cool aloof exterior. So she was angry at herself for becoming obviously upset at finding Max’s letters. It’s not as if she didn’t know that Max had been in love with another woman when she married him. But she let her guard down & showed Max not only just how jealous & upset she was, but, more importantly, how much she really cared.
Was it pride or something else? She wondered how she could possibly keep the upper hand if she showed just how vulnerable she was to him. Did she simply delude herself all this time into thinking that the whole arrangement was merely a marriage of convenience? Perhaps that was all it was for Max Gallagher who had everything to gain from the union. But exactly what did Max have to offer Sara except for the challenge of conquering & taming someone who didn’t want to be conquered or tamed, and the mere notion of procuring something that seemed forbidden & unattainable, not in the social sense, but in the sense of having a man that flaunted social conventions, that seemed wild, coarse & unruly, & most of all, was, for once, not completely enamored and in awe of her.
As Sara walked through the front door and stepped onto the checkered-tiled floor of the parlor, she had a strange feeling of relief, anticipation & dread. It was 5:34 in the evening, and she had hoped to find Max sitting in the library or in his office den, hoping that when she walked into the room she would find that his initial reaction to her, his ‘true’ feelings, would be happiness & an undeniable sense of longing, that would be mirrored and all too transparent in his piercing steely grey eyes.
Although she had tried to take her mind off Max while she was in Paris, the best way she could, by spending to her heart’s content, she could not shake the feeling that all she had really wanted was for Max to be by her side. As she walked through the cold, vast house, she realized that it was empty. Then a clanging noise came from downstairs, and she ran down to the kitchen pantry. When she got there, however, she only found Maris, organizing the kitchen cupboard.
“Madam. You’ve come home. It’s so good to see you back again. Did you have a nice trip?”
“Yes I did, Maris. Thank you,” Sara smiled at her pleasantly.
“Maris, is Mr. Gallagher here?”
“Why actually, no, Madam. I can’t say I’ve seen him all day, since this morning, that is….He usually comes home very late. Sometimes he stays at the office, or at his flat in the city. But it’s hard to say, madam, because sometimes he doesn’t come home at all.”
Sara lowered her eyes as she thought of Rebecca. Then she said softly,
“Did he say whether he’d be back later today?”
Maris shook her head, “He never mentioned it, madam.”
The disappointed look in Sara’s eyes was evident.
“Madam, I’m sure Mr. Gallagher is still in the office….Pardon me, but if you’d allow me to suggest, perhaps if you phoned him, & told him you were back, he’d definitely come home. In fact I’m sure he’d drop everything & would be here in no time.”
“That’s alright, Maris. There’s no need….I’ll be fine. I was actually thinking of retiring early today anyways. I’ve had a long trip & I’m very tired.”
“Well, if you need me for anything. I’ll be right here. Ned & Reginald have gone to town to stock our supplies. I imagine they’ll be here shortly.”
“Thank you Maris.”
Sara walked up the large marble stairwell and into her bedroom. She stood there for a moment, simply staring at her bed. Everything was perfect & pristine as she left it before she had gone to Paris. As she walked to her window, she caught a glimpse of her image in the long, brass gilded, free standing mirror & had caught the vacant look in her eyes as she had regarded herself sadly. She looked to the side, wanting to avoid the sight of her own image, when she saw that the door adjoining her bedroom to Max’s was open. She walked over to find that his room seemed even more pristine than hers, as if the room had never been inhabited, as if his own bed had never been slept in.
She walked to open his closet and was caught by the sight of his dark blue suit. A smile formed on her face as her thoughts wandered to the first time she had seen Max. He had been wearing this old blue suit at the time.
It was the annual Beliere ball, and Max had been there on business to meet his top stockholder, her father, Claude Whitman, shipping & steel tycoon, the richest man in America and aspiring politician. At the first moment she’d seen him she was intrigued by Max’s enigmatic presence. Back then she wondered what it would be like to tame a wild beast. Sara always liked challenges and Max Gallagher was the greatest challenge of them all. But she was wondering whether it was all really just a game, or something more.
“Father, who is that odd-looking man standing over there?”
“That, my dear, is Max Gallagher. He owns the 2nd largest publishing company in America, right now, & I’m happy to say we own a part of it, as well.”
“Well, doesn’t Mr. Gallagher know that his suit is 2 sizes too small for him?”
“It appears, my dear, that either he doesn’t know or from what I’ve heard of him,
he would not care less. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he stripped it right off of someone else’s back, 2 hours ago.”
“Father. That’s not nice. Not nice, at all. We have a duty to be charitable, philanthropic, kind, and be ever-mindful of what we say.”
“My dear, Max Gallagher needs no charity & I would venture to say that if he’d heard my comment he wouldn’t be so much offended as flattered. Why, he would probably have thought of it a complement of sorts…as to his resourcefulness, that is.”
Claude took a deep puff of his pipe.
“Facinating fellow, really. Just signed a deal with his colleague JT a couple of days ago. Not much of a social butterfly, though.”
“Well then, our kind is sorely lacking in fascinating fellows. His odd fashion sense & outright anti-social bearing makes him all the more intriguing. What with everyone saying the same things, wearing the same things, doing the same things, believing the same things…makes for such a bore. Wouldn’t you say? That’s why I still believe that the worse thing that can happen to society is prosperity. A great paradox, really…but, nonetheless, while a great equalizer, lack of diversity, and I mean both culturally & socially, can only work to hurt society.”
Claude looked at his daughter, with an amused grin. Sara continued to stare at
Max Gallagher, growing more fascinated.
“So father. Would you introduce us?”
“Well, dear, there really was no need going about all that. You simply needed to say the word!”
Claude led Sara to Max who was leaning against the wall, staring at the couples dancing.
“Max Gallagher. May I present to you my daughter, Sara Whitman.”?
Sara held out a dainty hand to shake his.
“Sara would love to know just who is your talented tailor,” Claude added mischievously.
Sara jabbed her father at his side with her elbow as she withdrew her hand from Max.
“Actually, I was just telling father how everyone here is such a bore that it’s so refreshing to see someone new to society who has a completely different take on life and on…well…on things entirely.”
There was a long pause as Max looked at Sara with a steady serious gaze.
“Oh. And you’ve come to this conclusion just by looking at my suit, I suppose.”
There was a long awkward moment, as Sara looked at Max’s suit, taking it in a clinical way, until her cool gaze finally met his detached glare, head on.
“Frankly…Yes.”
Claude cleared his throat as Max and Sara stared at each other.
Just then, Max broke a smile and let out a hearty laugh. When he regained his composure, he met Sara’s steady stare, nodding his head, smiling at her amusingly.
“Good. I like your honesty.”
“Well, why flatter when everyone will just as much assume you’re saying otherwise as soon as you turn your back.”
Max’s smile widened, taken by the young woman’s wit.
“Touché.”
Claude smiled as he rubbed his hands together, and fidgeted with the cuffs of his tuxedo. He seemed to be the only one aware of the awkward deafening silence that followed, as the two continued to stand steadily, almost as if they were sizing each other up.
Claude cleared his throat.
“Well, then, if you’ll excuse me I see your colleague there. I should say hello &
advise him when he should expect my people to have the papers ready.”
Claude left Max and Sara who both stood awkwardly now as their gaze fell upon the people dancing in front of them. As Sara fiddled with the seams of her dress, Max continued to finish his drink, silently. Exasperated, Sara finally relented.
“Mr. Gallagher, it’s rather rude to be ignored. But now that we’ve both established that there’s no need for flattery, you could just as well tell me yourself. After all, one token of honesty deserves another.”
Max glanced at Sara almost quizzically. Her cobalt blue eyes widened when she realized that this particular man was either oblivious or immune to the powers of suggestion.
“Do you find me repulsive? Or am I simply not attractive enough for you?”
The surprise was evident in Max’s eyes.
“On the contrary. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room,” He replied in an
even, steady voice.
“Well then. Why haven’t you asked me to dance?”
“Forgive me Ms. Whitman, but it’s not for the lack of wanting that prevents me. You see, I’ve never been properly trained in the social graces, or cultural practices of your society,” Max said matter-of-factly, in a tone that seemed more mocking and derisive than embarrassed.
Looking relieved, Sara said briskly,
“Well then, why didn’t you just say so? I’m a good teacher. I can assure you,
you’ll be in good hands.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Max replied as he turned back to the couples dancing on
the floor.
Sara stepped in front of him.
“Mr. Gallagher, would you care to dance with me?”
“Oh, you mean here? Now? With all these people watching?”
“So? I don’t care. Do you? They are, after all, my feet, not theirs…that is, if you decide to step on them.”
A wide grin formed on Max’s face.
“Well, alright then. Of course I can’t lead.”
“Nonsense! I’ll lead. You just follow. Or does that idea offend your mundane notions of masculinity?”
Max laughed.
“Not at all. Although, I don’t want you to think that I normally take orders from women. Of course you do know that it depends on who’s doing the leading. In this case, I’m quite sure I’m in capable hands.”
***
Sara always put up a strong front. She never let her guard down. She always got what she wanted. And now she had what she had always wanted: to be the wife of Max Gallagher. Yet as she stood in Max’s room, her hand feeling through the coarse fabric of his old navy suit, she never felt more alone and more sad than she did at this moment. She wondered whether she deserved it. After all, Max had warned her. Their’s was never a romantic courtship in the traditional sense, but rather a union borne of practicality, at least in Max’s mind and Sara knew it. For being beautiful, smart and sophisticated, she knew that it was her family name and not her that Max wanted. She’d never let pride get in the way of what she wanted. They had an understanding from the very beginning. Sara could not fault Max for being duplicitous. On the eve of their wedding he had warned her in fact.
It was only 3 months ago that she was sitting at the table having breakfast with her father Claude, when Max stormed in, grabbed her hand & took her into the garden gazebo.
She remembered sitting calmly looking at Max as she watched him anxiously pace the gazebo floor.
“Sara, I’m sorry, but I can’t go through with this.”
Sara sat calm & still. She smiled at him.
“Max. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re just nervous,” she said softly in a calm voice. “But, of course you are. It’s perfectly understandable, now that it’s all right in front of you. Everything you’ve craved for so long – Just think…To be finally accepted in society after all you’ve worked for. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, to be part of the social elite? To be accepted in the upper crust of society? Well, here it is, Max. I’m giving it to you.”
Max looked at Sara curiously with a side-glance, as she continued calmly,
“You know, that you could have all the money in the world but you’ll never be considered respectable or legitimate or accepted by high society unless you have the name, the social backing of old money, the network & the power. My father, the Whitman name can give you that.”
“I’ve built my company from scratch with my own bare hands. These hands may be rough with calluses, but I’m not ashamed of it. We’re the 2nd largest publishing firm in America, without cheating, without committing any crime. Are you saying that none of this deserves any kind of respect? I’m owed that respect! God knows, I’ve played by the rules & worked for it legitimately! I earned every cent I got! That’s more than what I can say about your fancy debutante friends.”
“Max. I never said you don’t deserve it. But you’re not naïve. Who’re you fooling? You know, as idyllic as all that sounds, you know perfectly well as I do, that’s not how the world works. God knows the most honest, the hardest working people in the world aren’t holding the reins. Do they have the power? I’m not fooling myself. I was born into it & daddy was too. And for the few that were simply born lucky, they just learn how to make the most with the hand they were dealt. Does society really care whether Daddy lifted a finger to earn all this wealth? No. In fact, society prizes us idle rich for our soft, polished & perfectly manicured hands. Society doesn’t want to see calluses. Life’s just not fair. And you know it. We don’t live in an ideal world. And I know you won’t be satisfied just being the richest man in the world. You want power. And money will only get you so far. I know what’s your true ambition, Max. I’d even venture to say that I know you more than you know yourself. Power, not money is all that truly matters, & you won’t be truly happy until you get it. Isn’t that right?”
Max looked down keeping silent, as Sara continued,
“Max, you’ve got the 2nd largest publishing firm in America. That’s commendable! You’ve already gotten people to stand up & take notice. You’re the talk of the town. Why do you think I’m even here? I don’t latch on to just anyone. I see your potential. More important, I believe in you.” Sara continued, “But Max, that’s not to say that you can’t use any help. With my father’s backing, you can have the largest publishing firm in the world, in no time. You know that.”
Max looked at Sara incredulously.
“My god. Doesn’t it even bother you that I don’t love you?”
Sara simply smiled, looking up at him softly, coolly.
“Oh. But you do….You just don’t know it yet.”
Max stood still, looking down at her dumbstruck, his intense steel-grey eyes narrowed, as if he were studying her.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You know we’d make a great pair.” Sara asked looking up at him quizzically, with wide innocent eyes.
“You’re a puzzle, Ms. Whitman. Outside you look like the softest, most delicate creature in the world, but inside…you have the mind of a ruthless, calculating and hardened businessman. I’m still debating whether you have the heart of a woman….of course, that is, if you have one at all.”
Sara simply smiled at him coolly,
“I’ve learned that you get what you want by letting your mind, not your heart, lead the way. I’d like to think of myself as a bit more practical than most women. But no mistaken: I’m not heartless, Mr. Gallagher….Just a realist.”
“Hmm…and I suppose you’re helping me out of the pure goodness of your heart,” Max replied sardonically.
Sara smiled, laughing softly to herself, “Oh my….you are blind…”
She looked genuinely amused as she continued calmly looking up at him,
“No….I’m afraid my motives are much more selfish. I wanted you the moment I first saw you Max Gallagher. Standing in the corner, looking extraordinarily handsome, yet awkward and out of place in your ill-fitting suit. Truth be told, I laughed, but was charmed nonetheless. You may not have the…a….polished manners of a gentleman, may lack the social graces & panache of the upper-crust….but that can all be learned….You have something that can’t be taught. You have drive & ambition. You have the killer instinct. You know what you want, & you get it. Although they won’t admit it, the men of my world admire you, ‘cuz they look like weak saps & pretentious fools standing next to you. By the same token, the women of my world are nothing less than drawn to you. You intrigue as soon as you walk into a room. You’re like a wild animal screaming to be tamed. What’s more, you’re the strongest, sexiest & most exciting man I’ve ever seen, Max Gallagher. I want you. And, if you haven’t noticed by now, I always get what I want.”
There was a long pause of silence. Max looked down at Sara in obvious wonder and dismay.
“I don’t know whether to applaud you, or feel sorry for you,” Max finally replied stoically.
“Hmmm…” Sara stood up, sauntered slowly to his side & kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Do you still find me pathetic?” Sara said softly looking coyly at him, as Max looked down at her in amazement.
“Well…I see you’ve all ironed out your differences, I hope….Is everything alright?” Sara’s father Claude called out as he stood by the patio door overlooking the garden. Sara looked at her father.
“It’s just a case of the jitters, pop. Everything’s fine,” then Sara turned to look up at Max, smiling at him pleasantly, as she added in a melodic voice,
“Max is here to stay.”
“Well….good to hear that. Otherwise, I would’ve had you pay for those damn caterers, even if it meant dipping into your trust fund, O’ prissy missy.”
Sara laughed light-heartedly as she continued to study the look in Max’s eyes. Claude cleared his throat,
“Well then, if it’s all settled, I’ll leave you two be…”
As soon as Claude walked back into the house, Max turned around & walked to the edge of the gazebo. He leaned over the railing, looking pensively out into the garden, away from Sara. Sara continued to study Max, as she noticed every muscle of his broad back seem to stiffen from beneath his sweater.
“So, aren’t you even going to tell me her name?” Sara finally said in a soft, even voice.
Max simply looked down.
“Why would it matter? You’ve said it yourself. If it’s matters of the heart, it’s all irrelevant. It simply gets in the way of all that’s practical, right?”
He turned around to look at her. Max paused looking blankly at Sara for a moment.
“It must be a great relief for you….having that much power, that much control in your hands. Thinking…knowing that you’re the cleverest person in the room.”
“No. It’s utter torture,” Sara replied, “But the thing it’s taught me…is patience.”
“And practicality, I see,” Max added sadly.
“As plain & brutal as it sounds….yes,” Sarah nodded.
Max studied Sara for a moment then added,
“And where do feelings and raw emotion fit in all this?” Max asked.
“The thing you learn, early on in my society, Max, is self-restraint, self-control. I’m sure as an Irish Catholic you’re familiar with the good ol’ Catholic virtue of self-repression.”
Max looked down, as he let out a faint chuckle. He nodded, as he raised his head to look at her.
“Well, at least we both know, hopefully, where we stand. As a long as there are no false illusions or delusions between us, this pretense won’t be too unbearable.”
Max said as he continued to study Sara, knowing all the while that beneath that soft, elegant and sophisticated exterior, lay the sharpest, most cunning, self-assured & enigmatic person he’d ever encountered. After a moment, he leaned down to give Sara a quick peck on the cheek.
“You know, in the remote chance that you may be holding onto some romantic hope between us, I should let you know that our arrangement won’t change how I live my personal life, nor will it change how I truly feel,” Max said sternly.
Sara simply flashed him a slight smile looking up at him from beneath thick lashes.
“I wouldn’t expect any less of you. It is, after all, your sheer strength of will that I admire most about you,” Sara said in a tone that made Max wonder whether she was actually mocking him.
“Well then, it’s settled. I suppose I’ll just see you tomorrow. ‘Til then.” With that, Max walked away, as Sara’s troubled eyes followed his image until he was out of her sight.
***
Now, 3 months later she wondered whether she was being completely honest with herself, whether she really understood her own limits. As she thought of herself sitting in the gazebo, watching Max walk away from her, Sara had laughed at herself thinking about how she had given herself a year before she’d show signs of weakness. And now sitting at the edge of Max’s pristine bed, it wasn’t even 6 months into her marriage and she could already feel the signs of her unraveling.
She thought to herself, she could continue to allow herself to feel sorry for herself, or she could simply sleep away her misery. Instead, Sara picked up the phone sitting on Max’s nightstand, finally deciding to call her friends and have a small last-minute soiree to brighten her mood.
***
It was 10:30 p.m. Max came back after working late at the office. He had been looking forward to sitting alone in the quiet darkness of the vast empty manor, drowning his sorrows in brandy until he’d had his fill & finally rendered unconscious, when suddenly as he walked through the parlor and opened the door into the game room, he walked head-on into his wife’s small bustling party. Sara had been dancing & laughing it up with one of her old beaus, Colin Middleton, and she turned around to find Max standing by the door, stiff & agitated, glaring at her with a strange look of contempt.
“There you are husband!” Sara said playfully. “I hope you don’t mind. I arrived today to an empty house, & had the sudden urge to invite a few close friends. You’re welcome to join us of course….”
Max said nothing. He only glared at her as she continued dancing. He walked straight through the center of the room, past Sara and the group of young men and women, went to the glass liquor cabinet and grabbed the largest bottle of brandy he could find. There was dead silence & everyone stared at Max as he left the room, not once giving Sara, or anyone else in the room, for that matter, another glance.
It was 1:00 A.M. when the small party finally adjourned. Sara stood by the door as she bid her guests goodnight. Colin, Sara’s old beau & dance partner for most of the evening, however, was the last one to leave. As he stood under the frame of the door, he smiled at Sara but looked at her with sad eyes.
“My dear, there’s no need to keep up this charade with me. You forget. I know you all too well. It’s all there in those beautiful eyes of yours. It’s obvious to everyone that you’re frightfully unhappy. But you don’t have to be, especially a woman as ravishing as you. It’s still possible to have everything you want: a rich and powerful husband, a perfect family…and a wonderfully attentive lover at your feet.”
Colin reached over and ran his finger across the tip of her chin.
“Just remember, my dear, I’ll always be there for you, at your whim & ever at your disposal. All you need to do is ask.”
He leaned over to kiss her on the lips when Sara stopped him, turned a cheek, smiled and kissed him on his forehead.
“Thank you, Colin,” Sara nodded as she flashed him an artificial smile, “Thank you for coming tonight. We’ll certainly keep in touch. Oh and…don’t forget to bring Elizabeth next time. We have so much to catch up on, with the kids &…just everything,” Sara said brusquely as she scooted him out the door.
As she closed the door, she collapsed on it & sighed, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, no longer so sure that the late-night soiree of intimate friends would’ve provided the much needed relief that an early night’s sleep would’ve perhaps more quickly & more efficiently served its purpose.
Tired, Sara walked into the drawing room. When she turned on the light, she was startled to find Max sitting in the dark, in the corner of the drawing room, where he’d been sitting all night, drinking his bottle of brandy.
“Oh….Have your entourage & flock of admirers left you so soon?” He said in a mocking tone.
Sara simply looked at him with contempt. When she finally replied it was in her usual calm cool voice.
“I hope you do realize, that wonderful scene of yours earlier tonight would surely be enough to put us on the front page of the gossip papers yet again.”
Max only looked at Sara stoically, as she continued,
“I do wish you’d at least try to keep your fondness for the bottle out of the public eye. A little effort is all I ask. After all, it’s not as if we haven’t already given people enough to talk about.”
“Well, I apologize if my ill manners have caused you some distress, my dear. I suppose we can chalk it up to my bad breeding,” Max said sarcastically. “But as I recall, wasn’t my coarseness, my ‘devil may care’ bravado among the qualities you found so exotic, exciting & so fascinating? Do I no longer fit into your equation of staged marital bliss?” Max then narrowed his eyes and a slight smirk formed at the corners of his mouth as he continued, “Or…is this outburst simply resentment on your part? Well…perhaps I am all to blame. I admit, I have been a neglectful husband lately,” Sara stared at him with indignant eyes, as Max continued,
“Well then, let me begin by saying, you look lovely, as usual. I almost forgot just how ravishing you are. I see that the Parisian air has certainly lifted your spirits. But being the…how do you put it?…the practical woman that you are, I just hope your pragmatic means of catharsis didn’t break the bank,” Max smiled wryly, as he tilted his head back to regard her. Sara turned to look at Max head-on.
“And, as usual…here you are, in true maudlin form…moping and pining….For what? Or should I even bother to ask?” Sara coolly replied.
“How truly trite & predictable of you, my dear,” Sara continued in a melodious voice, meeting his vacant stare as she began to take off her gloves.
“Honestly Max, I never expected you to become a bore.”
Max narrowed his grey eyes as he stared at Sara begrudgingly.
“I’m tired. I’ll be in my bedroom. Make sure no one bothers me tonight,” Sara said as she removed her white lace gloves.
With that Sara went up to her bedroom. Max sat quietly in the drawing room as he attempted to finish his bottle of brandy. He placed the half empty bottle on the floor & began to make his way out of the drawing room.
Despondent, he staggered up the stairwell & walked into Sara’s bedroom. When Max reached the side of Sara’s bed, he stood over her sleeping form. He stared at her silently for a long time. Then suddenly Sara opened her eyes & focused immediately on Max’s unreadable steely-eyed glare.
“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“You didn’t lock your door,” Max sardonically replied.
“And you took that as an invitation?”
Max met her defiant look with a wry crooked smile, as his eyes narrowed & raked over her long lean form.
“I thought I might surprise you. You know, break from predictable patterns of behavior, since apparently I’m already starting to bore you.”
He paused as he allowed his eyes to graze Sara’s form.
“Anyways, don’t you think it’s about time you fulfilled your wifely duties?” Max continued in a lowered voice.
“I thought your ‘pure white rose’ would’ve tended to that by now.”
“Let’s say some sexual favors are better suited for certain women.”
Sara instantly sat up & reached over to slap his face, but Max grabbed her wrist and wrestled it behind her back. With their faces inches from each other, Sara could smell his brandy-laced breath. Their struggle left them both breathless. Max looked down at her and saw that Sara’s green eyes were lit with a wild fire. In an instant his mouth was on hers.
***
Sara lay quietly at her side staring at Max who lay on his back next to her in bed. She watched the steady subtle rise and fall of his chest with the calm even rhythm of his breathing. Sara let the warm feeling of contentment sweep over her and she was just about to close her eyes, until she heard a soft muffled whisper come from Max. She drew closer to him so that she could make out the words.
“Becca,” Max mumbled softly in his sleep.
Sara drew from his side and turned around. She shut here eyes tightly trying to keep the tears from falling from her eyes.
***|
Max opened his eyes to the warmth of the bright white light that filtered through the large windows of Sara’s room. He turned around to see Sara lying at her side – her back turned away from him. He suddenly remembered everything that had happened the night before. Although she lay silent, from her unnatural stone-like stillness, Max knew that Sara was awake. He lay there quietly for a long moment before he finally spoke.
“Sara…I’m sorry…I didn’t know.” He said softly as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
Sara seemed to recoil from his touch and abruptly stood up from the bed.
“Well, of course you didn’t! How could you?” Sara replies nonchalantly, “We’re not living in the Victorian Age.”
Sara walked over to the vanity to put on a light chiffon wrap. Max labored as he sat up slowly at the edge of his side of the bed. He looked at Sara silently as she regarded herself in the small oval mirror of the vanity. She seemed careful not to meet his gaze through the mirror as she quickly ran a brush through her hair.
“It’s simply transference my dear,” Sara said matter-of-factly, in a quick ascetic tone. “I suppose I never gave you the impression to believe otherwise that I had been ‘pure’ or chaste, since obviously I’d never expected you to be either. But I suppose that’s a different story, entirely, now, isn’t it?”
“Sara…”
“I have an early day today, & won’t be back until the evening. Would you be a dear & tell Maris that she won’t need to prepare brunch for me today.”
“Of course,” Max finally replied, looking at her sadly.
With that, Sara hastily walked out of the room.
Max shook his head as he turned around to stare at the bright light that emanated from the window.
I loved this; couldn’t stop reading. What’s the name of the novel?