alexandra, gone Page 14

  Dominic often regretted the choices he had made at seventeen, but there was a part of him that was also secretly grateful. If he and Jane had married like Rose had demanded at the time, they wouldn’t have made it. He would never have gone to university. If he hadn’t gone to university, he wouldn’t have an extremely well-paid and cushy job in a top bank, and he certainly wouldn’t be living the luxury lifestyle he’d become accustomed to. He could have kissed good-bye his cars and his house in Ballsbridge and his chalet in France and the five apartments he was earning high rents from in an exclusive development in Blackrock. God knows where he’d be, because when he was seventeen his parents had warned him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t go to university and get a degree and follow in his father’s footsteps, he was on his own. At the time he was a kid, confused and scared, and although he was high on a drug called love, the reality of becoming a father sobered him up fast. His parents had insisted he stay away from the girl, who they believed had become pregnant on purpose to trap him. When their offer of financial support on the condition that Jane keep away from their son was rejected by the madwoman who had reared her, they were happy to wash their hands entirely of the girl and child. They were adamant that if Dominic didn’t want to pay for university himself, he would never speak to the girl again. He didn’t want to pay for college himself. He wanted the same free ride that his two older brothers had enjoyed. He wanted the cool apartment he could share with his two best friends, Mint and Brick. He wanted to experience the college lifestyle, the parties, the girls, the clubs, the drinks, the sport, the late nights, the crap food, and mostly the freedom from a life lived under the watchful eye of his strict parents. He easily acquiesced to their demands, and afterward, when Jane tried to talk to him, he ignored her. When she took the hint and stayed away, he watched her grow under her uniform, and although he ignored her it was hard to ignore the terrible sadness in her eyes because she wasn’t given a choice. All that ambition that burned so brightly in her would be lost, and all Dominic wanted to do was run away because Dominic, like their principal, Amanda Reynolds, knew that Jane could have achieved whatever she wanted. She could hold a full-scale conversation with Alexandra during math class, and if the teacher tried to make an example out of her by asking her to explain the theorem on the blackboard, she could do so without even so much as a second’s thought. Alexandra, on the other hand, would stand and make up something so preposterous that the whole class would burst out laughing; she’d take a bow and sit, leaving the teacher too busy trying to regain control over his class to bother correcting her for not paying attention. Jane barely opened a book and yet she maintained a B average. She could have been an A student with the greatest of ease but deliberately maintained her B average because she didn’t want to be associated with the class nerds. She too had been desperate to go to university, and she’d applied to the same colleges as Alexandra, and although it would mean being apart from Dominic, she had secretly hoped that they would both get Cork because then she would get to leave home. Dominic was sorry for Jane and he wanted the best for her because she was cool and they’d had the best two years together, but he was far too selfish to risk his own future to tell her.

  Four years after his son was born, Dominic had graduated from college. He had experienced all the things that came with college life, he was on a good starting salary with the bank of his choice, and his parents didn’t own him anymore. He walked up the steps of his old girlfriend’s house on the day of their child’s fourth birthday. He carried a gift in his hand. Passing balloons tied to the railings, he stopped at the front door and took a moment to collect himself before knocking. He was perfectly prepared for the door to be slammed in his face, but it wasn’t. Jane opened it with their son on her hip, and even though he’d walked up the pathway and knocked on her door, seeing her and his son was a shock to him. He tried to raise a smile, but was ashamed and embarrassed, and so he lifted up the gift and held it out. She looked from him to the gift and then to her son, and she opened the door a little more and invited him in. Thirteen years later, Dominic still couldn’t work out why Jane had found it so easy to forgive him.

  The first time they had slept together again was the night of Kurt’s Holy Communion. Kurt was seven, and in the three years Dominic had been a father to Kurt, he and Jane had become close confidants and friends. He was there, dressed in a suit with video camera in hand, when his son came down the stairs dressed in his own little Mini-Me suit and wearing his rosette pinned to his chest. Kurt was embarrassed and hated his suit and begged Jane to gel back his blond curls, but there was no way that was happening, so after a minitantrum at the bottom of the stairs, which was later edited out, they made their way to the church together as a family. Dominic drove, Jane sat in the front, and Kurt sat between his auntie Elle, who was sixteen and going through her Siouxsie and the Banshees “craving for a raw love” phase, and Rose, who kicked the back of Dominic’s seat twice, claiming it was an accident and pretending to be completely horrified that her daughter could possibly think it was anything else.

  “I was merely crossing my legs, Jane, and if this car wasn’t the size of half a can of beans I’d be able to do so without nearly losing a knee.”

  Afterward they met up with his parents in a posh restaurant in Dublin city center, and despite Rose getting completely twisted before the main course was even served and in spite of Dominic’s parents’ coldness, Kurt was happy to be surrounded by the people he loved, because back then Jane and Dominic were the center of his universe and Elle was the coolest person he knew. Dominic stayed well after Kurt had been put to bed. Together they opened a bottle of wine and toasted their son’s big day. They weren’t even through the first glass when Dominic was taking Jane to her bedroom, the same one that she had snuck him into eight years earlier, and they both crept as silently as they could because at that time Rose still lived in the main house, and although she was in a drunken stupor, neither Dominic nor Jane wanted to risk waking her and receiving her wrath. Once Jane’s door was closed and locked, they kissed and touched, and they were naked within minutes and lying together on the same bed that their son was conceived in, except this time Jane had the coil fitted and Dominic was wearing a condom. Dominic snuck out a few hours later.

  The next day he had phoned. He was regretful and hopeful that their actions the previous night wouldn’t ruin the fantastic friendship they’d built. Jane had promised him that nothing would change, and when he hung up he was relieved that once again Jane Moore had proved herself to be so cool. Of course, he didn’t witness her brokenhearted and lying facedown on her bedroom floor crying for hours, nor did he have any idea how much she had hoped that he’d give their relationship a chance, because for Jane what could be better than a happy ending with the man she loved and the father of her child?

  The second time they had sex again was after Jane’s twenty-seventh birthday. Dominic had been seeing two women but it was early days in their relationships as neither had yet allowed him access to her bedroom. Jane had broken up with an artist she’d dated for six months. They were incredibly drunk, and if Jane had not woken up on top of Dominic, neither of them would have remembered actually having sex. This was rectified the following night when Dominic brought flowers and chocolates to once again apologize for his pesky penis. Jane opened a bottle of wine, and half an hour after Dominic’s apology they were once again in bed together. For the next year they often got together when Dominic was between relationships or Jane was lonely or having a hard time dealing with her mother, her sister, or their son. By that stage their relationship was firmly in the friends-with-benefits zone, which suited Dominic completely, and Jane seemed happy to make the best of it. Then it stopped when Dominic met Gina at a conference held in the Gresham Hotel. She was a country girl, accomplished, nice to Jane and kind to Kurt. They lasted for three years, and Jane was sure they’d marry, but when Gina demanded a ring, Dominic walked away and found himself in Jane’s bed once more. And
so their sexual history had continued until the last time they’d had sex—the night he’d split with the tripped-out Heidi.

  A week later he had arrived to Kurt’s fifteenth birthday with his new girlfriend, Bella, and one month later they were engaged. Dominic and Jane hadn’t slept together since, and after the night in the car when he’d clearly attempted to seduce her, Jane felt more than a little awkward around him, and so his insistence that she invite him to Elle’s Missing Exhibition made her extremely uncomfortable, especially in light of Kurt’s recent admission that things were weird at his dad’s house.

  Elle felt like a new woman since her weekend away with Leslie. She had continued to work for hours every day, laboring over each face as though re-creating it in the presence of God. When the collection of twelve was completed, two of her old art school contemporaries arrived at her cottage to view the works. Fiona and Lori arrived together and Elle greeted them warmly, hugging Fiona and then Lori, and when Lori pointed out that they hadn’t seen her since before Christmas she explained that she had been working very hard. They complained that she hadn’t bothered to turn up to her last exhibition and she apologized for her absence, telling them that she’d come down with the flu.

  She made coffee before the unveiling, and Fiona admitted that they’d heard the gossip that Vincent had ended the relationship and that she’d burned out his car.

  Lori laughed a little. “He deserved it,” she said.

  “Elle,” Fiona said, “he’s a user, always was and always will be.”

  Elle poured the coffee. “So what’s the story about the blonde?” she asked. “Caroline. I bumped into them recently.”

  “She’s an actress on that stupid drama shot in the UK. What’s it called?” Fiona asked Lori.

  “Can’t remember, but I’ve heard that she strips every second episode,” she replied.

  “So now he’s living off her,” Elle said, and she grinned. “Lucky girl. Until another source of income takes his fancy.”

  Lori and Fiona looked at each other, and Lori made a face.

  Fiona turned to Elle. “He married her,” she said.

  “What?” Elle said. “No! It’s only been five minutes. No way! Really?”

  “Sorry,” Lori said.

  Elle was in shock. “He married her.”

  “Last week,” Fiona said. “In a registry office, and the afters were in the Four Seasons.”

  “It’s featured in this week’s VIP magazine,” Lori said. “Can you believe that? The only thing important about him is the person he’s sleeping with.”

  Elle brushed it off, telling her two friends that she wished Vincent and Caroline the best, and then changed the subject. After talking some more they followed her to the studio, and they were both impressed with her work, going as far as to say it would be her best show yet.

  “I feel like crying,” Lori said, looking across the twelve faces, including Alexandra’s, whose slight smile made her ache inside.

  “It’s genius,” Fiona said, “and it’s such a great concept.”

  Now that Elle was finished with her latest project, the girls would accept no excuses and insisted she join them at a party after the exhibition the next night. They left soon after, and Elle sat at her baby grand piano that took up half her sitting room and played some notes and decided that it was time she got back in the game.

  Jane appeared later that afternoon, and they packed up the paintings together. Elle told her about Vincent, and Jane called him some names and wished ill health upon him, but Elle was determined to be over him and so her bitching seemed unnecessary. After Jane left, Elle got into a bath and soaked for a glorious hour. When she grew bored she got out and lathered herself in the richest of creams. She sprayed on her favorite perfume, pulled her hair off her face into a tight ponytail, and dressed in her sexiest short dress and highest black heels. She left her cottage and walked up the path toward the side gate that would lead her to the front gate and on to adventure.

  Rose was standing outside when she passed.

  “You look like a whore,” she said.

  “I plan to act like one,” Elle said.

  “Well, at least no one can say you’re a tease,” Rose said, and she headed indoors.

  Leslie had spent the week in and out of the hospital having tests to ensure that she was healthy enough to have her breasts and womb removed. She remarked on the irony of the situation to one of the nurses who, having been on her feet for twelve hours straight, wasn’t interested in irony—all she cared about was getting the necessary bloods so that she could move on to the next patient and so on until her shift was over.

  Jim had asked Leslie if she wanted him to go with her, but she had politely and firmly told him no. He had a job and a life of his own, and it wasn’t as though she hadn’t been going to medical checkups on her own for the past eighteen years. She was in the waiting area reading a pamphlet on reconstructive surgery and picking at some trail mix when a tall, bald man in his late forties sat down beside her. He nodded hello and opened a newspaper. They both sat reading for ten minutes or so before he closed his newspaper and asked her if she had the time.

  She looked at her watch. “Just after three,” she said.

  He sighed. “I’ve been here since seven this morning.”

  “Hell,” she said.

  “Hell,” he agreed, and he smiled at her a big wide smile and she wondered how he could smile with such warmth and how he could carry himself with such cheer when it was obvious he had cancer and was going through chemotherapy.

  “I’m Mark,” he said, and he put out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Leslie,” she said, and she shook his hand.

  “Are you a patient or family/friend?”

  “Patient. Are you starting chemo or near the end?”

  “That obvious?” he said, rubbing his freshly shaved head.

  “It’s not the bald head—it’s the color of your skin.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “Off-putting.”

  “Familiar,” she said.

  “Do you mind me asking why you’re here, seeing as your hair is your own and your skin looks good too?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Leslie thought about lying or at the very least avoiding the question, but she didn’t know the man, and aside from Jim she hadn’t spoken to anyone about her radical plans, and so she was honest.

  “I’m having my breasts and womb removed in a few months to avoid getting cancer.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No.”

  “To avoid getting cancer?”

  “I have the gene.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you’ll get it.”

  “I’ve lost my entire family and my youth to cancer. I’m not willing to lose any more.”

  “Except your breasts and womb.”

  She laughed. “Except for them.”

  “Well,” he said, “I’ve lost both balls.”

  Leslie was as taken aback by his honesty as he had been by hers. “Ouch,” she said.

  He grinned at her. “Could be worse. I could have my balls and no penis.”

  “True,” she said. “That would suck.”

  They both laughed.

  “Yes, it would,” he said.

  “So how does that work?”

  “You mean sex?”

  She couldn’t believe that she was engaging in such an intimate conversation with a stranger, but she nodded her head to indicate that yes, she did mean sex.

  “I can still orgasm, apparently, haven’t tried it yet. Obviously I can’t get anyone pregnant, and I’ll need to inject hormones every few weeks.”

  “Ah, it’ll be pretty much the same for me.”

  “I see you’re thinking about reconstruction,” he said, looking at the pamphlet.

  She nodded.

  “They offered me fake balls.”

  “Really? Did you take them?”

  “N
o, too weird.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said.

  “Then just take one step at a time,” he said.

  After a pause she said, “Mark?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you married?”

  “Divorced.”

  “Kids?”

  “Two boys, twelve and ten.”

  “Is the cancer gone?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” he said.

  “Would you like to go to an art exhibition with me tomorrow night?”

  “I’d love to,” he said.

  “Good,” she said, “excellent.”

  They swapped numbers and soon after that she was called into her doctor’s office, and the doctor couldn’t help but wonder why she had a stupid grin on her face while he was talking her through the radical procedures she was facing.

  Tom fought with Jeanette on the phone in his car. She was pissed off that he wouldn’t allow her to attend the Missing Exhibition, and he couldn’t understand why on earth she’d want to be there or how she thought her presence would be appropriate.

  “It’s appropriate because I’m the one sleeping beside you in bed.”

  “That is why it is so very inappropriate, Jeanette.”

  “It’s not like I’m going to advertise myself. I’ll stay quiet; I’ll bring Davey and I’ll pretend you’re my friend and he’s my boyfriend.”

  “No.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Don’t expect me to be waiting for you when you get home.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bastard!”

  She hung up and Tom drove on, wondering how he had allowed himself to get into such a stupid and dangerous situation with a young woman who had a schoolgirl crush on him. I’m so sorry, Alexandra. If only you’d come home to me, this nightmare would end.