On the contrary, I was confident, lucid, lubricated with just the right amount of wine, and found myself talking intelligently, entertainingly, even wittily, on a variety of subjects—I talked knowledgeably about the theater, for instance, about plays that were currently on, what was coming, and recommended a couple of lesser-known productions to Lana that I said were worth seeing. And I suggested some exhibitions and galleries that she hadn’t heard of. In other words, I gave a completely convincing performance of the person I had always wanted to be: a confident, sophisticated, razor-sharp man-about-town. That’s the man I saw reflected in Lana’s eyes. In her eyes, that night, I shone.
Barbara West eventually gave in and joined us, all smiles, greeting Lana as an old friend. Lana was perfectly civil to Barbara, but I got the sense that Lana didn’t like her, which was entirely in Lana’s favor.
When Barbara went to the bathroom, leaving us alone, Lana took the opportunity to inquire about our relationship. “Are you a couple?”
I must confess to being a little evasive. I said I was Barbara’s “partner” and left it at that.
I understood why Lana was asking.
She was single when we met, you see—Jason had yet to come on the scene. I suspected Lana was making sure she was “safe” with me; determining that I was someone else’s property—and therefore less likely to pounce, or make any sudden moves. I imagine she got a lot of that.
By the end of the night, we agreed to meet again on Sunday, for a walk along the river. I asked for Lana’s number, when Barbara wasn’t looking.
To my utter joy, she gave it to me.
* * *
As Barbara and I left the party that night, I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt as if I were walking on air.
Barbara, on the other hand, was in a foul mood. “What a shitty production. I give it three weeks, before they put it out of its misery.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I glanced at the poster of Kate as Hedda Gabler, holding up a pistol. I smiled. “I had a pretty good time.”
Barbara shot me a poisonous look. “Yes, I know you did. I saw.”
She didn’t comment further—for the moment.
Barbara waited a long time to make me pay for my insolent behavior that evening. But she made me pay in the end, as you will see.
Oh, yes. She made me pay dearly.
5
It’s hard for me to write about my friendship with Lana.
There is too much to say. How can I possibly describe, in a series of well-chosen vignettes, the slow and complicated process of the growing bond of trust and affection between us?
Perhaps I should select a single moment from our years together, as you might pick a random card from a deck in a magic trick, to conjure up the merest feeling of what it was like. Why not?
In which case, I choose our very first walk together—a Sunday afternoon, in late May. It explains everything; about what came later, I mean. And how two people, who were so close in every regard, could, in the end, misunderstand each other so completely.
* * *
We met up on the South Bank, for a walk along the Thames. I turned up with a red rose that I had bought from the stall outside the station.
I could tell at once, from Lana’s expression when I presented the rose to her, that this was a mistake.
“I hope this doesn’t mean we’re starting off on the wrong foot,” she said.
“Which foot is that?” I said, stupidly. “Left or right?”
Lana smiled, and let it go at that. But that wasn’t the end of it.
We walked for a while. Then we sat outside a pub, on a bench along the river. We each had a glass of wine.
We sat there in silence for a moment. Lana played with the rose in her fingers. Finally, she spoke.
“Does Barbara know you’re here?”
“Barbara?” I shook my head. “I assure you, she takes very little interest in my comings and goings. Why?”
Lana shrugged. “I was just curious.”
“Were you afraid she might come, too?” I laughed. “Do you think Barbara’s spying on us now from behind those bushes? With a pair of binoculars and a gun? I wouldn’t put it past her.”
Lana laughed. Her laugh, so familiar to me from her films, made me grin.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You have me all to yourself.”
That was clumsy. I cringe now, remembering it.
Lana smiled but didn’t reply. She toyed with the rose for a moment. Then she held it up and tilted her head, to look at the rose and me at the same time.
“And this? What does this mean?”