The Hawk: Part Six

  Holding a drink in his left hand, Seth stared at the assembled guests. Sheila’s Aunt Deb had organized this party and Seth was attending under duress. He sipped the scotch, needing a fairly strong dose of alcohol to remain. If he got drunk, maybe his aunt and uncle might feel inclined to leave early. If nothing else, if Seth was inebriated, he could easily slip into a quiet room and fall asleep.

  He stood in a corner as the rest mingled in the living room and out on the screened-in back porch. There were probably thirty people and he knew only a few of them. This was a younger set than whom Seth usually associated, although he was still one of the youngest. None of Sheila’s eldest relatives were here, other than her Aunt Deb and Uncle David, who were the evening’s hosts. After one drink, Seth had chatted amiably with David Myerson for about five minutes, then David had moved to greet another guest and Seth had poured himself another glass while Sheila and Mickey cozied up to their usual cliques. Women sat on one side of the living room, men on the other, and Seth wondered if eventually the groups would gravitate to either the interior or exterior of the house. Seth enjoyed observing the scene, especially now that he felt the effects of the scotch. He’d never been a drinker, nor was he now inclined to consider using booze to soothe his pain. But it was nice, just for that evening, to allow a shield. Sheila had insisted that he attend, and now he understood why; most of the women were his age, or at least weren’t old enough to be his mother.

  Yet they were all his elder, so maybe Sheila had decided Seth required a more mature partner. That thought made him smile, but he didn’t feel at all like walking up to any of them and making small talk. The little he’d spoken to Uncle David was all Seth felt like sharing. And now he couldn’t even recall what they’d said, maybe something about the weather? Seth took another sip, then he gripped the tumbler. Maybe it was time to go back to Brooklyn. The Snyders were long gone from New York, and how many more cocktail parties would Sheila badger Seth into attending? He was tired, and maybe a little tipsy. He wasn’t at all interested in anything anyone here had to say, gossip and politics mixed with news from Israel. He was bored with the same conversations, whether they were spoken in English or Yiddish. He smiled again, tracing the rim of his glass. Perhaps there was no further reason to stay in Miami.

  He could look into booking a flight home as early as tomorrow; it might appear as an insult to his aunt, but Seth was weary of her attempts at playing matchmaker, and Eric was gone, and…. Then Seth sighed. The blue barn no longer resided in New York and if he went home without that painting to admire, what would he do? His mother wouldn’t demand anything of him other than the usual household chores, Aunt Rose would request his assistance only if one of her sons-in-law were busy. Seth didn’t consider Laurie; being away from his cousin had been a relief, although the distance was also difficult. Seth missed Laurie, but what in the hell was the purpose of going home, Seth mused, finishing his drink, then wondering if he should get another. He gazed at the bottom of the glass, only a trace of liquid remaining. He swirled it, then looked up. A woman across the room was staring at him.

  She wore a long sleeved dress, although the fabric looked somewhat sheer. Yet it had been warm that day, the humidity high. All the other women either wore sleeveless frocks or those with cap sleeves. This woman’s hair was loose, a dark color, all he could tell from where he stood. She looked older than him, but as she blinked, then cast a vague smile his way, maybe she was seventeen. Somehow her long sleeves indicated youth, whereas usually the opposite was true.

  He placed his glass on a nearby table. Then he smiled at her as she lit a cigarette. Seth was one of the few who didn’t smoke, but he didn’t mind. Cigarettes had been prevalent in the army, at the hospital in Vermont, and at Caffey-Miller. His father had smoked a pipe, but his mother and sisters had eschewed tobacco, as had Laurie’s family. Then Seth glanced at his aunt and uncle. They were about the only ones not smoking. Maybe it was a Miami habit, he grinned. People here smoked to forget about the incessant sunshine.

  He’d found that aspect of the weather rather draining, even if it was the season for it. Snowbirds must truly hate winter to retire here, he considered, finding the woman still looking at him. She wasn’t trying to hide her interest and even from far away, Seth found her attractive. She seemed mysterious, what with those long sleeves and her ageless face. He squinted, then smiled broadly. Perhaps Aunt Sheila had finally found success, or at least Seth would let her claim this victory.

  Slowly he made his way around groups of men, standing in circles talking loudly. The women were seated, all but the one who still gazed at Seth. He paused about ten feet from where she stood, David Myerson seeking his attention. Calmly Seth permitted this intrusion, although David seemed to have nothing of significance to tell him. It was like David was stalling for time. Seth didn’t gaze in the woman’s direction, but could feel how badly she wished to speak to him. Equally David acted as if keeping them apart was vital. Maybe Seth was too old for her, perhaps she was just a teenager. He tried to glance her way, but from what he could see, she no longer stood against the wall.

  Seth ached inside, which surprised him. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to investigate something other than…. He chuckled at himself, as well as the joke David told, then Seth excused himself. David tried to keep him there, but Seth gingerly patted David’s shoulder. Turning away, Seth saw that indeed the woman had stepped away, but he wasn’t troubled. She had simply removed herself from the group so that when Seth found her, they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.

  He used the bathroom, then slipped into the kitchen where a few women did dishes. He didn’t know them and they kept right on talking. Seth had only been to the Myersons’ a few times, wasn’t sure of the home’s layout beyond the living room, bathroom, and the back porch. He exited the house through the front door, then walked to the street. The night was dark, although streetlights illuminated sections of the sidewalk. Other homes were well-lit, it wasn’t that late, and cars lined the street. Then Seth heard someone cough. He turned around, seeing the woman standing near a tree just at the edge of where light shone from overhead.

  In the dark, he couldn’t tell more than it was her. Yet he could sense how much she wanted to speak to him, as if they had been standing side by side within the living room, yet forcibly kept apart by David. Seth walked in her direction, clearing his throat. As he reached her, he smiled, some part of his soul revived by this enigmatic female.

  It had been years since Seth had slept with anyone; sex had no place in his life due to depression. But he felt very aroused now, which made him stifle a chuckle. In the dim light, he could see the woman’s face and she looked just as pleased for his presence. She also appeared older than him, lines around her mouth and eyes, also creases in her forehead and neck. Yet she was beautiful, making Seth wonder if she was real. He gazed around, but it was only the two of them, the night sultry but not miserable. He wanted to speak, but was uncertain of what to say. The mutual attraction was obvious, but did she know about him? Had Uncle David been trying to give her time to disappear, rather than hook up with a man so damaged? Seth wanted to reach for her hand, he ached to confirm that yes, she was factual. In a moment of impetuousness, he did that very thing, finding her fingers warm and sensual. She gripped back with force and he swallowed hard. Maybe staying in Florida another few weeks would be just fine.

  He didn’t want more than a fling with her, which would upset Aunt Sheila. But Seth sensed this woman wasn’t asking for something permanent in how she then quickly released his hand, but stepped toward him at the same time. Then she stroked his cheek, which made him close his eyes. “I’m Norah,” she said, her German accent prominent. “I know who you are.”

  Seth nodded as a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine, mixed with a chill of uncertainty. “Who told you?” he said hoarsely.

  “Auntie Deb.” Then Norah had a soft chuckle. “Uncle David was terrified you’d come tonight. But Deb told him there was no w
ay to exclude you.”

  Now Seth opened his eyes. Norah’s hand remained on his face, she was so close to him that if he wrapped his arm around her waist, they would become one. He wanted that now more than before, in part due to David’s reservations and that this woman seemed unafraid of him. Seth set his hand on her shoulder, the fabric like a barrier, even for how sheer it was. “Why the long sleeves?” he said.

  Norah trembled, then shook her head. “Don’t ask so many questions.”

  Seth blinked, then removed her hand from his cheek. He grasped hers within his, staring right into her eyes. “Can I ask where we might go?”

  She smiled. “A motel would be good.”

  He nodded. “Do you have a car?”

  She laughed. “You don’t, I assume?”

  “That I do not.” A rising sense of mirth permeated Seth’s chest. This wasn’t the kind of encounter his aunt had planned and David Myerson wouldn’t be pleased either. Yet, Norah wasn’t a girl; she looked to be in her early forties. Was she attached to one of the men at the party, Seth wondered. “Will our absence be a problem?”

  “We won’t get far without a vehicle,” Norah sighed. She squeezed Seth’s hands, then took hers away. “I’m only a guest here.”

  “Me too.” Seth chuckled. “But perhaps I could call on you tomorrow, in the light of day.” He smirked at himself. Mickey would understand and let Seth use his car. And depending on how things went and the length of Norah’s visit, Seth might refrain from returning north immediately. Laurie would find this hilarious, but Laurie would be the only one with whom Seth would share it, other than asking Mickey to borrow the car.

  For those moments, Seth permitted such ordinary considerations. Most people didn’t ponder all that rumbled through his mind; sometimes the most basic passions overruled. And maybe it was good that Norah was shrouded in mystery, from her long sleeves to her German accent. Maybe Seth could simply expend his hunger as if he was no more than a tourist seeking to escape the boredom of everyday life. That was the pretense upon which he had arrived in Miami, his formal introduction to Sheila’s older relatives cloaked by that excuse. Of course they knew the truth, or a glimmer of it; he’d left New York when he did because of the Snyders. Yet to these transplants, his arrival was blamed on the cold weather, a need for change. Would Seth reveal that to Norah? She was here for reasons he could imagine, but not wish to ponder deeply. They could have a brief affair, unless she was married to one of the men inside the Myerson residence. Then Seth might only share one encounter with her. Yet he was going to sleep with her, for in how she now touched him, she insinuated nothing less would be acceptable. Seth nodded, then kissed her, agreeing to her unstated request.

  They necked under the tree, then broke apart in laughter as sprinklers shot water in their direction. Seth grabbed her hand, leading her to a dry spot on the sidewalk. He gazed at the house, finding a living room curtain had been pulled back. Then it was hastily returned, still rustling. “Someone was spying on us. Anyone I need to worry about?”

  “No,” she said, her voice light. “But I do need to show you something.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head, then stared at the ground. “You’re a sculptor, correct?”

  “Yeah.” He shivered, wondering if it was from his slightly damp clothes or more rightly in how readily he’d answered her question. Perhaps he still was an artist, yet that distinction seemed erroneous. He’d been a sculptor ages ago. Then he wondered if Norah considered herself still German, or was she simply a Jew like the others. Their accents were as strong as hers, but Seth always felt that their native country had been excised from their characters. They were Jewish, living in Florida, no more, no less.

  “When was the last time you sculpted anything?” As she spoke Norah grasped Seth’s hand. Hers was wet and she spread the water along his fingers. “Have you made anything here?”

  “In Minnesota,” he said softly, which wasn’t quite the truth. He’d played around with clay in Brooklyn, but nothing tangible had emerged. “I made figures of those in the hospital I stayed at.”

  He wanted to be honest. She must know he’d been in and out of institutions for how vehemently Uncle David had tried to keep them apart. Yet, Norah wasn’t a child. Did she have a lover waiting in the house or did the Myersons believe Seth was more damaged than Sheila and Mickey had let on?

  “Do you want to sculpt again?”

  Norah still massaged Seth’s hand, but the feeling wasn’t sensual, or at least Seth couldn’t conjure any passion. Not that he felt artistically inclined either. He stared at Norah’s actions, like she was trying to stir his gift. Then he stroked her face. “What are you doing?”

  “They told me about you, but I didn’t believe them. I don’t want to believe them,” she added, her voice plaintive. “Maybe if I show you, then you can sculpt again.”

  “Show me what?” Seth placed his other hand over hers, stopping her actions. Then he looked at her left arm, covered by fabric. “Why are you wearing long sleeves?”

  This time his tone was direct; if she put up an argument, Seth wouldn’t stop until…. He gazed at her, finding tears forming in her eyes. He wiped them away, but her mouth quivered, and she shook her head. “You don’t want to know,” she whispered.

  A welling sorrow rose in his chest. Yet it was buffered by a burning need for knowledge. “You can show me,” he said, gently placing his hand on her left upper forearm.

  As he did, she flinched, then sighed. “Not here.” Then she let out a small cry. Immediately Seth pulled her close, wondering if the secret could leak through her tears, which now fell copiously. He wanted to soothe her, but first he needed to feel her pain. He felt strong standing there, gripping her tightly, like all the answers were right at his fingertips. Yet he grimaced, not for how fierce were her cries, but for the gamble he wanted to take. But he would never get another chance, and how fleeting was this opportunity? How risky, he also wondered, far more than shock therapy.

  He stroked her left arm as if he could see that injury, permanent in nature. His fingers tingled, although nothing in his right hand felt inspired. More to notice was his heart, which beat frantically in his chest. He wanted to make love to her, but in addition, he needed to inspect her. It would be akin to how he had focused so intently upon the blue barn, but maybe Norah could proffer a deeper healing. Or, Seth allowed, a further descent into….

  She kissed him and he succumbed to that diversion. Did he want to be well, he wasn’t certain. He did want this woman, but not in a motel in another day or more. Ignoring his racing heart, he ended the kiss, then pointed toward the end of the street. A children’s park was around the block, if he remember correctly. “I want you,” he said.

  Norah bit her lip, then nodded. “There’s a playground around the corner. It’s very dark there at night.”

  “Good.” Seth assumed she had walked the length and breadth of this neighborhood, just like he had Mickey and Sheila’s. But unlike Seth’s sojourns taken during the heat of the day, Norah had required the shield of nighttime. And again the dark would protect her, and him as well. Let them make love this first time without any scepter of her past. Tomorrow Seth would revisit this woman, and then she could fully reveal herself. That evening was only to broker the initiation.

  Chapter 113