The Marriage Plot - Jeffrey Eugenides [189]
Slowly, she made her way into the center of the room, concentrating on tables where cards were being played. It began to seem less likely that Leonard was here. Maybe he’d gone out for dinner with the Swiss bankers. Maybe the best idea was to go back to the hotel and wait. She moved in farther. And there, in a maroon velvet seat at the blackjack table, was Leonard.
He’d done something to his hair—wet it, or gelled it, so that it was plastered back. And he was wearing the black cape.
His stack of chips was smaller than those of the other players. He was leaning forward with concentration, his eyes fixed on the dealer. Madeleine calculated that it would be best not to interrupt him.
Seeing him like this, wild-eyed, antiquely dressed, as slick-haired as a vampire, Madeleine realized that she’d never accepted—had never taken fully on board—the reality of Leonard’s illness. In the hospital, when Leonard was recovering from his breakdown, his behavior had been peculiar but understandable. He was like someone dazed after a car crash. This—this mania—was different. Leonard seemed like an actual crazy person, and it scared her senseless.
Maniaque wasn’t far from wrong. What did maniac refer to, after all, if not to mania?
All her life she’d avoided unbalanced people. She’d stayed away from the weird kids in elementary school. She’d avoided the gloomy, suicidal girls in high school who vomited up pills. What was it about crazy people that made you want to shun them? The futility of reasoning with them, certainly, but also something else, something like a fear of contagion. The casino, with its buzzing, smoke-filled air, seemed like a projection of Leonard’s mania, a howling zone full of the nightmare rich, opening their mouths to place bets or cry for alcohol. Madeleine had the urge to turn and flee. Taking one step forward would commit her to a life of doing the same. Of worrying about Leonard, of constantly keeping tabs on him, of wondering what had happened if he was a half hour late coming home. All she had to do was turn and go. No one would blame her.
And then, of course, she took the step. She came up and stood silently behind Leonard’s chair.
There were a half dozen other players around the table, all men.
She moved into his field of vision and said, “Sweetie?”
Leonard glanced sideways. He didn’t appear surprised to see her. “Hi, there,” he said, returning his focus to the cards. “Sorry for taking off like that. But I was afraid you wouldn’t let me gamble. Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Madeleine said soothingly. “I’m not mad.”
“Good. Because I’m feeling lucky tonight.” He winked at her.
“Sweetie, I need you to come with me.”
Leonard threw in an ante. Again he leaned forward, concentrating on the dealer. At the same time, he said, “I remembered the Bond flick this place is in. Never Say Never Again.”
The dealer dealt the first two cards.
“Hit me,” Leonard said.
The dealer dealt Leonard one more.
“Again.”
The next card broke him. The dealer scooped up Leonard’s cards and the croupier took his chips away.
“Let’s go,” Madeleine said.
Leonard leaned toward her conspiratorially. “He’s using two decks. They think I can’t handle two, but they’re wrong.”
He tossed in another ante and the cycle repeated itself. The dealer had seventeen and Leonard thought he could beat it. At thirteen, he asked for one more card,