Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

career, you were a renowned performer. You didn't intend to remain a teacher."
    "No, no, none of that is what I mean," he said. "It was wrong for other reasons." He shifted his eyes away.
    "What other reasons, Michael?"
    He bit down on his lip, inhaled deeply through his nose and sat back.
    "I think," I said, "it's time I knew everything, don't you?" He nodded.
    "When I met you in New York and we began seeing each other and loving each other, I was already married," he confessed.
    "What?" I exclaimed.
    "I had been married for almost two years."
    "I don't believe it. No one said anything, and the magazine stories about you never—"
    "No one knew it," he said. "My public relations man made me keep it a secret. He warned that my announcing my marriage would hurt my career; it would stop young women from fantasizing about me."
    "Where was your wife all this time?" I asked skeptically.
    "She was back in London; she was an English girl I had met while I was working on a show. She was with the set designers. We fell in love quickly, almost as quickly as you and I had, and one day we just drove off to the country and got married in an old church. I was quite foolish and impulsive in those days, and as I said, my manager and publicity people were quite upset.
    "My work and my traveling eventually diluted the love we had for each other. Actually, I had intended to tell her about you and ask her for a divorce, but before I could, I got word she was dying from a kidney ailment back in London, so I left to be with her and accepted a role in a London show. She hung on for months and months, and by the time it was all over, you were already gone. I did try to find you, but your whereabouts were secret.
    "Disillusioned and lost, I returned to Europe to continue my career. Eventually I found out about your marriage and all."
    "Why didn't you ever tell me about your wife?" I asked.
    "I was afraid to; I was afraid you would leave me," he said.
    "But why didn't you tell me at the end, or leave me a note?"
    "I couldn't. I was weak, I know. I let my manager and publicity people take control of my life. They threatened to leave me; they told me I was destroying myself. What can I tell you?" he said, lifting his eyes toward me—eyes that seemed so full of tears now, they looked on the verge of releasing a flood of drops down his cheeks. "I had to choose between romantic bliss and my career, and I chose my career.
    "I guess deep down I was married to the stage before I was married to anyone. That was my first love, and my strongest. Everything else weakened and paled beside it. I was younger, and very much infatuated with myself and my fame.
    "Now that I look at you, and at beautiful Christie, I realize how great my loss has been.
    "But it doesn't have to be," he added quickly. "I've come to my senses. Oh, admittedly years late, but still, I'm here."
    "Michael, what are you saying? What are you proposing?" I asked, astounded.
    "We had magic once, magic like no other two people had. When two people have such magic, they can get it back," he asserted.
    It depressed me to hear the quaver in his voice. He seemed a small boy who was pleading for the impossible to happen.
    "I couldn't be more happily married than I am now, Michael. Heaven and earth couldn't pull me away from Jimmy. What you and I had was magic, at least for a little while, but you destroyed it. I'm sorry for what happened to you, and I'm sorry you never told me these things when we were together. Nothing would have come between us then, but I'm a different person now. That star-struck young girl is long gone."
    Michael nodded and gulped down his drink.
    "I thought you would say something like that," he said, smiling. He looked down at Christie and smiled wider. She sipped the last of her Shirley Temple.
    "We have to go, Michael. I'm taking Christie shopping." "Oh. Of course." He signaled for the bill.
    "What are you doing in Virginia Beach?" I asked.
    "I'm just passing through on my way to New York City. I was in Atlanta."
    "You're driving?"
    "Yes. I have some time, and there are things I haven't seen, so I thought I would."
    The waitress brought the bill, and Michael fumbled through his pocket for his wallet. He looked at the bill and then at the money in his billfold.
    "Oh, I have to go to the main desk to cash a check," he said. "I don't have enough cash."
    "That's all right. I’ll pay for it," I said.
    "Well, actually," Michael said, smiling and leaning forward, "that was