The Second Marriage, page 36
Her silence seemed to infuriate him more. She flinched as he stood over her, shouting in her face. “Maria never took a cent from me! She loved me for myself—but I don’t expect you to understand that. She was the best wife I ever had, even though we never married.”
It was on the tip of Jackie’s tongue to retort that he should go back to her, in that case, but she knew whatever she said would inflame the situation, so she sat quietly, avoiding eye contact.
“Maria knows how to argue!” he yelled. “She fights back, tells me when I am in the wrong, and after the explosion passes we make up—passionately.” He emphasized the word. “All you do is sulk. Silence and sulks: that’s what I married.”
He stepped back to look out the window toward Central Park, and Jackie took the opportunity to rise from her chair and hurry to the door.
He turned. “I’m not finished yet. Where do you think you are going?”
“I have a headache. I’m going to lie down.”
She closed the door behind her, and heard the sound of something else smashing in the living room. Thank heaven the children were at school. She was embarrassed for her staff to hear the ruckus; God only knew what the bodyguards must be thinking.
Lying on her bed, with a cool cloth draped over her brow, Jackie began to tremble. What if Ari divorced her? What would she do then? She would be alone in the world. Who would protect her? The children had a Secret Service man assigned to them until they turned sixteen, but she had lost her right to one when she remarried.
And then she thought of poor Maria, so distressed that she had taken an overdose. Had Ari given her hope and then dashed it? If so, that was despicable. Was that what he had done with Lee? Poor Lee.
She curled into the fetal position, hugging her knees, trying to make her feelings of panic subside. Don’t think about anything else for now; just breathe.
ARI STAYED IN his suite at the Pierre Hotel that night, but he returned the following morning, while Jackie was reading in the sitting room. She put her book aside and looked up, feeling wary. Was he going to apologize? Or did he want to continue the fight?
“There’s some paperwork I need you to sign,” he said, pulling a few typed sheets from his briefcase and flicking through them. He produced a fountain pen.
Jackie took them and looked at the first page. The type was small, but she noticed the word waiver and her name and Fifth Avenue address near the top.
“What’s it for?” she asked. She had always signed any papers that he asked her to without question, but she felt suspicious all of a sudden.
“It’s a standard requirement under Greek law. I’m a bit late submitting it, so I’ll drop it off at my lawyer’s this morning.” He sounded brisk, and definitely unrepentant.
“Should I get my own lawyer to look through it first?” she asked.
“There’s no time. I’ll have a copy sent for his file, but it’s strictly routine. Nothing to worry about.”
Still she hesitated, reading the document, trying to make sense of the legal wording. “Is it something to do with your inheritance?”
“That’s right; it’s making sure the businesses go to Alexander after my death, as we discussed.” He glanced at his watch, obviously impatient.
Jackie did not have the strength for another argument. She felt drained by the emotion of the previous evening, and sick at the thought of poor Maria, lying in a hospital bed. She took the pen, signed where he indicated, and handed it back.
“Thank you,” he said, putting the papers in his case and preparing to leave.
“Will you be here for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. “Why not?”
But his eyes were cold, and he left without kissing her.
Chapter 69
Paris
Summer 1970
Maria’s apartment was like a botanic garden, full of lavish bouquets and exotic plants. Every surface had a vase perched on it, and the air was filled with fragrance.
Her friends rallied around her so that in the weeks following her release from the hospital she was never alone. They alternately comforted and chivvied her, urging her to get back to singing, to make more movies, to fill her life with fresh challenges, and to never, ever, see Ari again. He sent flowers and cards, but her entourage wouldn’t let her take his calls. She didn’t fight them; she knew she couldn’t have coped with hearing his voice.
In the newspapers, she read that he and Mrs. Kennedy had spent the summer on Skorpios, and that Lee had joined them. Didn’t Jackie mind that her sister had slept with Ari first? Wasn’t that awkward? Lee had been trying to launch herself as an actress, but the drama critics who attended her theatrical debut in Chicago were scathing. Maria smiled when she read the dire reviews: “A star is not born,” one said.
One afternoon in late September the telephone rang. She picked it up without thinking and was startled to hear Ari’s voice.
“How are you?” he asked, his tone gentle.
“I’m well.” She felt unsteady on her feet and sat down on the chair in the hall. “Very busy. I’m giving a series of master classes next year for students at the Juilliard School in New York.” She was proud to have been invited. It would be fun to work with a new generation of opera singers, and she told Ari about her preparations, chattering to hide her nervousness.
“They are very lucky students!” he said. “And are you performing any concerts?”
“I don’t know. There seems to be enthusiasm for the idea of me singing onstage again. I guess people want to come along and be reminded of how great I used to be.”
“You’re selling yourself short,” he said.
She chuckled before she replied. “Even your metaphors involve money.”
He paused. “That’s the Maria I miss; the one who is straight with me, who tells it like it is.”
She didn’t answer, scared of where this conversation was heading. She was still too fragile to deal with him, like a smashed porcelain vase that had been hastily glued back together.
“Can I see you, Maria? Please?”
She shook her head firmly. “No.”
“What, never?”
“I can’t be your lover anymore. It harms me too much. And I don’t think I could see you without wanting to be your lover.”
She heard him sniff. Was he upset? She listened hard.
“Not even if I come to you waving the decree nisi and an engagement ring?” His voice was emotional.
“I can’t wait for that to happen. I need to protect myself, Ari.” There was no artifice now; only the truth.
“I understand,” he said at last. “But can I telephone sometimes? I can’t bear not being a part of your life. There’s no one else I trust the way I trust you. We have so much shared history. We can’t throw it all away.”
Maria considered. Her friends’ voices rang in her ears like a Greek chorus: “Have nothing to do with him.” “He’s arrogant and thinks only of himself.” “He manipulates you and poisons any chance of happiness.”
And then she thought about the closeness they had once shared. Could they be friends who spoke on the telephone? Or would it be a slippery slope that would lead to becoming lovers again?
“We can try,” she said. “But if you upset me, I will stop taking your calls. And I never want to hear you mention Mrs. Kennedy. Is that clear?”
“Of course. As you wish.” He paused, then spoke so tenderly it brought tears to her eyes: “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
IT WASN’T LONG before Maria and Ari fell back into their old habit of chatting on the phone most days. She looked forward to their conversations, enjoyed being part of his life again. He called for advice when his daughter, Christina, married a real-estate agent twenty-seven years her senior, who had four children from a previous marriage. He called with mounting alarm as Project Omega began to slip inexorably from his grasp. He called in fury and disbelief when Tina, his first wife, married his archrival Niarchos. To him it was the ultimate stab in the back, and Maria had to work hard to dissuade him when he threatened to send a hit man to murder Niarchos. But she would not, could not, see him.
“Why has my luck run out?” he asked in exasperation. “It’s as if the gods have turned against me.”
Maria thought to herself that the gods had turned against him when he entered into matrimony for vanity rather than love, but out loud she said, “Since when have you believed in luck? You and I make our own luck. It’s one of the things we have in common.”
She had begun touring with a tenor named Giuseppe di Stefano, singing medleys of arias and duets to sellout crowds across Europe. That was gratifying, even if she knew her audiences were not hearing the vocals that La Callas had once been capable of. “Watch out for di Stefano,” Ari warned her gruffly. “I hear he has a reputation as a ladies’ man.”
“He’s married!” Maria exclaimed, well aware of the irony. In fact, she had begun to sleep with her costar occasionally while on tour. It satisfied her physical needs, but her heart was not in it, and she was anxious that word did not reach the press and, in particular, Ari.
When asked in interviews about her relationship with him now, she told the truth: “He is my best friend. He is, was, and always will be.”
Chapter 70
Skorpios
Summer 1970
Jackie was delighted when Lee agreed to bring her children for a three-week vacation on Skorpios. She hoped it would give them a chance to clear the air and become close again, and that Lee and Ari would settle into a comfortable new relationship as brother- and sister-in-law. Whatever the truth about their affair—and each had different versions—it was time to relegate it to the past.
Jackie had assumed that Stas would be coming too and allocated them the largest guest cottage, which she filled with fresh flowers. But when the jeep drove up from the jetty at six in the evening, only Lee and her children stepped out.
Jackie rushed to kiss her in greeting. “Where’s Stas?” she asked.
“I couldn’t bear to bring him. He’s so boring, he would have spoiled our fun.”
Jackie glanced at the children, who were shuffling their feet in embarrassment. “Maybe he can join us later. Leave your bags for the staff and come have a drink. You’re just in time for cocktail hour.”
Caroline and John took Anthony and Tina to explore the island. They were close in age and more like siblings than cousins. Ari joined the sisters on the terrace, kissing Lee’s hand with a chivalrous bow.
“Princess!” he said. “Welcome to Skorpios.”
Watching them, Jackie couldn’t detect any sign of their former intimacy. They seemed for all the world like old friends.
Lee ordered a vodka on the rocks, and when it arrived she gulped it down. “The journey made me thirsty. Can I have another?”
“Of course!” Ari signaled to a waiter.
“I’ve brought the plans for the villa I’m going to build,” Lee told him. “You’ll love them.”
“What villa?” Jackie asked, wondering where Stas had gotten the money. He did well as a property developer, but he usually needed the profits from his last build to invest in the next.
“Just outside Athens,” Lee told her. “Ari gave me a plot of land—a very generous one. Didn’t he mention it to you?”
Jackie glanced at Ari, but his face was impassive. “When was that?”
“At your wedding,” Lee said, looking smug. “It was my wedding present from him.”
“How kind!” Jackie mumbled, thinking it was odd that neither of them had mentioned it. She wondered what other secrets they might have been keeping from her.
Lee drank red wine all the way through dinner, then returned to vodka, and by the time they retired to the terrace for a nightcap, she was thoroughly blitzed. The alcohol made her conversation dull and monotonous, although she clearly thought she was being hilarious as she described parties she had been to and celebrities she’d met.
“Did I tell you Andy Warhol took me backstage after the Rolling Stones concert in Madison Square Garden? They are such a scream!”
She launched into a lengthy anecdote about how one of the Stones wanted her to go to his hotel room, but he kept calling her Princess Radish and she told him she couldn’t possibly consider sleeping with anyone who couldn’t get her name right.
Jackie glanced around to see if the children were listening, but fortunately they were out of earshot.
Ari excused himself, saying he had a business call to make, and Jackie sat back and watched Lee, rambling on about the artists and musicians who hung out at Andy Warhol’s studio, and about her new plan to become an interior designer to the rich and famous.
Jackie wondered if her sister had drunk too much because she found the situation difficult. Maybe seeing Jackie with Ari was painful and she was using alcohol as an anesthetic. Jackie knew all about that. It was a habit she’d fallen into after Jack died.
THE NEXT MORNING, Lee asked for a vodka and lime as soon as they hit the beach, and a waiter fetched her one from the little taverna that Jackie had remodeled there.
“You shouldn’t drink if you’re planning to swim later,” Jackie cautioned.
“When did you get to be so boring?” Lee snapped, then lay back on her sunbed with a straw hat over her face.
Ari had taken the children out sailing, and Jackie settled down to read a novel, but she kept an eye on Lee’s glass and noticed the level steadily descending. After she got back from a long swim, there was a fresh drink by Lee’s side. She drank wine with lunch, then returned to vodka and lime for the afternoon. That evening, she was unsteady on her feet long before they sat down for dinner, and virtually incoherent afterward.
“Do you think I should have a word with Lee about her drinking?” she asked Ari when they were alone later.
“Give me notice before you do and I’ll have riot police on standby,” he quipped.
“So you don’t think I should?”
He shook his head. “I think you are the last person she will take it from, and frankly I don’t want our vacation to turn into a battle zone.”
“Why did you give her that land when we got married? It’s not customary in America to give a dowry to the bride’s sister. Perhaps you didn’t realize.” She tried to speak with a light tone.
“You wanted her to come to the wedding. The only way I could get her to come was bribery. It worked, didn’t it?”
Jackie turned away. It was clear now that he had lied to her about the extent of his relationship with Lee. It must have been serious for her to feel quite so upset and betrayed. Had he let Lee believe he would marry her? Or had he used Lee to get close to her? She had a feeling it was better not to know the truth.
LEE’S DRINKING CONTINUED to be out of control through the rest of the vacation, but Jackie shrank from attempting to restrain her. All she could do was stop her from swimming in the sea when drunk, or behaving inappropriately in front of the children. Confrontation didn’t run in the Bouvier family. Difficult issues were swept under the rug. That was the way they’d been raised.
When did Lee start drinking so hard? Was it a trait they had inherited from their daddy?
Jackie had begun to monitor her own drinking after her psychiatrist had pointed out that her anxiety levels were always higher the day after she’d overindulged. There was a direct correlation. She decided to discuss Lee’s problem with the psychiatrist upon her return to New York. For now, she didn’t have the courage to rock the boat. All her efforts were focused on trying to heal the rift and become her sister’s friend again.
Act V
Chapter 71
Paris
January 23, 1973
Maria was at home in Paris when the telephone rang just before midnight. On the other end of the line there was a howl, like an animal caught in a steel trap.
“Help! Oh, God, help me!” It was Ari. She had never heard him in such anguish.
“What’s happened?” she asked, but for several minutes he just roared, unable to speak.
“It’s Alexander,” he managed at last. “He’s dead.” He started sobbing: big, ragged sobs that tore themselves from his throat.
At first, Maria couldn’t believe it. “No! How is that possible?”
“His plane crashed. Oh, Maria …”
She cradled the phone, so shocked she couldn’t take it in. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.”
“It was a conspiracy. The plane must have been sabotaged. It has to be Niarchos. Why else would a plane fail straight after takeoff? Witnesses say it hurtled from the sky like a stone, but planes don’t do that.” He was rambling, staccato, not making sense.
“I’m sure there will be an investigation. Don’t think about the cause for now,” she soothed.
“How can I think of anything else? I just had to ask doctors to switch off the machines keeping my son alive. His brain was destroyed. His poor brain!”
Maria listened as the words poured out, powerless to help.
“I flew in the world’s top neurosurgeon and offered him my entire fortune if he could save my son. Last night I kept vigil by his bed: I talked to him, kissed him, sang to him. I even prayed—can you believe it? Me praying? But there was no change. So today I gave them permission to switch off and he died two hours ago.” He burst into a fresh fit of sobbing that was dissonant, almost too painful to listen to.
“Oh, Ari, I wish I could have been with you, to support you.” Alexander had been twenty-four years old, with his whole life ahead of him. In a flash, she knew this was going to destroy Ari. How would he ever recover?
“Why didn’t Omero live?” he asked suddenly. “Then I would still have a son. Then I would have a reason to carry on living.”
