The Other Side of Midnight

He put his hand over hers. "You really gave me a scare, Catherine."

"I'm so sorry, Bill." Her voice started to choke up, and she was afraid that she was going to cry.

"I brought you some flowers and candy. When you're feeling stronger, I'll bring you some books."

She looked at him, at his kind strong face, and she thought: Why don't I love him? Why am I in love with the man I hate? Why did God have to turn out to be Groucho Marx? "How did I get here?" Catherine asked.

"In an ambulance."

"I mean--who found me?"

Fraser paused. "I did. I tried phoning you several times and when you didn't answer I got worried and broke in."

"I suppose I should say thanks," she said, "but to tell you the truth, I'm not sure yet."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Catherine shook her head and the movement caused her head to begin throbbing. "No," she said in a small voice.

Fraser nodded. "I have to fly home in the morning. I'll keep in touch."

She felt a gentle kiss on her forehead and closed her eyes to shut out the world and when she opened them again, she was alone and it was the middle of the night.

Early the next morning Larry came to visit her. Catherine watched him as he walked into the room and sat down in a chair next to her bed. She had expected him to be drawn-looking and unhappy, but the truth was that he looked wonderful, lean and tan and relaxed. Catherine wished desperately that she had had a chance to comb her hair and put on some lipstick.

"How do you feel, Cathy?" he asked.

"Terrific. Suicide always stimulates me."

"They didn't expect you to pull through."

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you."

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"It's true though, isn't it, Larry? You'd have been rid of me."

"For Christ's sake, I don't want to be rid of you that way, Catherine. All I want is a divorce."

She looked at him, this bronzed, handsome man she had married, his face a little more dissipated now, his mouth a little harder, his boyish charm worn a bit thin. What was she hanging onto? Seven years of dreams? She had given herself to him with such love and high hopes and she could not bear to let them go, could not bear to admit that she had made a mistake that had turned her life into a barren wasteland. She remembered Bill Fraser and their friends in Washington and the fun they had known. She could not remember the last time she had laughed aloud, or even smiled. But none of that really mattered. In the end the reason that she would not let Larry go was that she still loved him. He was standing there waiting for an answer. "No," Catherine said. "I'll never give you a divorce."

Larry met Noelle that night at the deserted monastery of Kaissariani in the mountains and reported his conversation with Catherine.

Noelle listened intently and asked, "Do you think she will change her mind?"

Larry shook his head. "Catherine can be as stubborn as hell."

"You must speak to her again."

And Larry did. For the next three weeks he exhausted every argument he could think of. He pleaded, cajoled, raged at her, offered her money, but nothing moved Catherine. She still loved him, and she was sure that if he gave himself a chance he could love her again.

"You're my husband," she said stubbornly. "You're going to be my husband until I die."

He repeated what she had said to Noelle.

Noelle nodded. "Yes," she said.

Larry looked at her, puzzled. "Yes, what?"