"No one's been here in ages, ever since they stopped doing the Viennese Opera Balls properly," Jack explained. He dusted off an ancient-looking Sony cassette recorder.
"Listen to this," he said, putting a tape inside. "I think you might like it." He pressed PLAY.
There was a scratchy hissing sound. Then a husky, low voice - unmistakably female, but sounding ravaged by years of smoking - began to speak.
"It was also my violent heart that broke ..."
Schuyler recognized the lines. "Is it her?" she asked rapturously. "It is her, isn't it?"
Jack nodded. It was. "I found the tape at this old bookshop the other day. They had poets reading their work."
He had remembered. It was Anne Sexton. Reading from Love Poems. Her favorite poet reading from her favorite poem, "The Break." It was the saddest of the lot, angry and bitter and beautiful and enraged. Schuyler was drawn to grief - like Schiele's paintings, Sexton's poetry was brutal, honest in its agony. Love Poems had been written during an affair the poet had - an illicit, secret affair not unlike their own. She knelt and huddled close to the little stereo, and Jack folded her in his arms. She didn't think she could love him more than she did right then.
Maybe there was part of him that she would never understand, but at this moment the two of them understood each other perfectly.
When the tape ended, they were silent, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies.
"So..." Schuyler felt hesitant and lifted up on one elbow to speak to him. She feared that talking about the reality of their situation would break the magic of the evening. And yet she wanted to know. The bonding was full speed ahead. "The other day at The Committee meeting you said that there was a way to break the bond."
"I believe so."
"What are you going to do?"
In answer, Jack pulled Schuyler down so that they were lying together again. "Schuyler, look at me," he said. "No, really look at me."
She did.
"I have lived a very long time. When the transformation happens...when you begin to become aware of your memories...it is an overwhelming process. It's almost like you have to relive every single mistake," he said softly.
"I don't want to make the same mistakes I've made before. I want to be free. I want to be with you. We will be together. I believe I will have less to live for, if I am not with you."
Schuyler shook her head vigorously. "But I can't let you do that. I can't let you take the risk. I love you too much."
"Then you would rather see me bonded to a woman I do not love?"
"No," she whispered. "Never."
Jack held her then and kissed her. "There is a way. Trust me."
Schuyler kissed him back, and every moment was sweeter than the last. She trusted him completely. Whatever it was he was going to do to break the bond, they would be together. Always.
eard the car before it turned the corner. A soft purring engine that grew to a massive roar. It pulled up to the alley behind the Perry Street building. A silver gray 1961 XKE Jaguar convertible, sleek and gorgeous as a bullet, with Jack Force at the wheel.
Schuyler slipped inside the car, admiring its classic finish, its silver antique gauges and simple old-fashioned mechanisms. Jack shifted the gears and the car roared up the highway.
They would only have a few hours together, but it was enough - although, of course, it would never be enough.
Each day brought the bonding closer and closer.
She had spied the invitations, and had merited one herself. She'd been surprised at first, then realized it was Mimi's way of letting her know exactly where she stood. The other day she had even caught a glimpse of Mimi in her bonding dress. Schuyler didn't know who was more the fool - she or the girl in the white dress. They were both mad to be in love with the same boy.
Jack was the fool, Schuyler thought, watching him expertly maneuver the car through the thoroughfare. A crazy fool. But she loved him, God how she loved him. She only wished they didn't have to hide, that they could declare their love to the world. The other evening she had told him she was tired of hiding in one place. As much as the apartment afforded an escape, it was also a prison.
Schuyler was longing to be with him somewhere else, even for one night. In answer Jack had slipped her a note that morning telling her to meet him at twilight at the designated location. She had no idea what he was planning, but the small smile that now played at the edge of his lips hinted at a wonderful surprise.
Jack drove the car across the bridge into New Jersey. In a few minutes they pulled into a private airfield at Teterboro, where a jet was waiting.
"You can't be serious." Schuyler laughed and clapped her hands when she saw the airplane.