It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.François de La Rouchefoucauld
Look, Cheryl said sharply, for all intents and purposes, the marriage is dead. Lets just drop it.
Youre not divorced, are you? Jeff asked.
No, she replied quickly. She was getting angry.
Then the marriage isnt dead, Jeff shot back. Until you finalize the split legally, then you and he are still together in the eyes of the law.
She laughed. And the eyes of God.
He smiled a mock smile but didnt laugh. Yeah, that too. He shifted the small black phone in his large hand. He leaned backward in the overstuffed blue chair and stretched his legs out.
It was a mild June dusk in Greensboro, North Carolina; just cool enough for open windows to make sense. The muggy air sweated beads on Jeffs tall glass of long island iced tea. The droplets grew fat and sagged while he talked. When they were large enough, they slid down onto the granite coaster below, fusing with the grey material and becoming invisible. Jeff put the glass to his lips and drank.
He never drank at work; or at least, he never really drank. Sometimes college girls or too-drunk businessmen would buy him a shot here and there, but for the most part he liked to keep his wits about him. It helped score tips. These days it was all about the tips.
When he started tending bar, his head had been full of fantasies about late-night spontaneous sex with tipsy female patrons and high-rolling connections made with prestigious clients. Jeff knew he was a good-looking guy, and had had his share of attention from the ladies. As he got settled into the job, though, he came upon a little flirting, but nothing serious. As for the fast-money hook-ups, he only met one guy from Florida who swore up and down he was sitting on a goldmine of a company in Key Largo. Otherwise, his jobs reality was less than thrilling. Mostly he had to calm down rowdy drunks, handle dozens of complicated orders on weekends, and deal with rude, depressed people for eight hours at a time.
Cheryl, who had wavy dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, had come in early one night with her slightly older sister, who lived in Greensboro. The two of them had gotten pretty loaded as the evening wore on. They drank light stuff, but plenty of it. Jeffs eyes lit up when Cheryls sister went home at midnight, leaving her alone. Hed watched as she brushed off several guys who tried to hit on her, and noticed she got more and more melancholy as the evening wore on.
She ended up with her head on the bar, a half-empty glass clutched in her thin hand next to a tiny black handbag. This made Jeff smile; after all, he knew how weak a womans defenses could get when shed had a few. In Cheryls case, it had been a few dozen. He moved in for the kill.
Maam, he said in his most sheepish nice-boy voice, Im afraid its nearly closing time.
She looked up with a slack jaw, her hair mussed and her eyeliner smudged. Shed either been crying or sleeping. She sort of sat up and rubbed her left eye with her right hand. She gave a weird half-laugh/half-sob. Maam, she said hoarsely. Please tell me you didnt call me that.
Jeff smiled, his wide, warm friendly tell me all about it smile. No maam, he said. I didnt.
She laughed weakly and looked at the glass. Jesus, she said. How many of these have I had?
Six, he replied. And a few glasses of wine.
She nodded as she rocked slightly in the chair. Up close, Jeff noticed that she wasnt as pretty as hed thought. Her looks were starting to go, and shed responded by overdoing it with the makeup. Still, there was an edge to her face that excited him. She looked up and realized he was watching her. She smiled.
Youre kinda cute, she said clumsily. Whats a guy like you doin in a place like this? She slurred her words a little, but only enough to make them sound more passionate.
He raised his eyebrows. Well, I wont be in a place like this for long, he said. They kick us out at two-thirty.
She tried to make a subtle motion of turning her head, but wound up slipping off the seat a little. Oh? she asked as she picked herself up. And where will you be going then?
Well, maam, that depends.
She waved a shaky hand. Stop with this maam crap, she said loudly. Im Cheryl. She swung her hand over the bar to him, but caught the glass and sent it flying to the floor, where it shattered. She sat back and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Jeff paused. Its okay, he said, and took a breath of relief when she let her hands down and he saw she was laughing.
When they got to his place, he had to help her inside and into the bedroom. She fell onto the bed and flung her bag against the wall, muttering something under her breath. As it fell to the floor, a set of keys fell out, along with two credit cards and a less-than-tremendously-expensive diamond ring.
They both froze and Jeff looked over at her. She let out a raucous laugh and reached for him.
That had been two months ago, but it seemed like years to him. Shed explained everything at breakfast, and he started to feel uneasy about the whole thing. Still, the excitement of the events randomness, combined with the thrill of sleeping with another mans wife, made him eager to do it again.
Now that she was planning to come out to Greensboro in July, one thought stuck in Jeffs mind: What if they got caught?
Look, she said, first of all, Warrens been cheating on me for years. So hes just getting what he deserves. The marriage is a fucking formality. What do you want me to do, just sit around and grin and bear it? Hes getting his. Why shouldnt I get mine? It was raining in Seattle. Cheryl was in a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a yellow towel. She sat on the edge of their large bed, draped with a boring lavender spread. The TV was on, but muted.
Yeah, but what if he finds out and comes and hunts me down and shoots me or something?
She laughed, a grim, acidic laugh. Mocking, and cold. He couldnt tell where it was aimed. Thats not going to happen, she said. Then, after a pause, I doubt he even cares what I do.
You really think so?
How the hell should I know? she said. Its not like he says three words to me when he stops in.
How long is he usually gone?
Phh. She waved her hand. Sometimes two days, sometimes a week. Sometimes I wish hed stay out a month.
Why dont you just leave him?
And do what? He owns the house. He owns the car. Our families would be a wreck. I thought I said I wanted to drop it.
Fine, well drop it.
There was a brief but timid silence.
For Gods sake, I just want a little fun for myself, she said quietly. Whats the big deal?
She knew two wrongs didnt make a right. But he wouldnt have agreed to a divorce, and she didnt have any proof that he was cheating on her. When she sat down and really thought about it, she didnt have any proof at all. Just a bunch of rumors. Maybe he really was working when he went out of town. But it seemed unlikely. When she started denying the whispers her friends had been hearing, they said she was a fool. Shed decided not to be so naive, but without proof, the only other option was called paranoid. If she had some proof, she could ascend to justified, but so far there was no smoking lipstick on the collar.
So she settled for bitter. At least bitter could be ambiguous. She could reject anyone she found repulsive, but still keep her options open for people like Jeff. He was young and kinda dumb, but had a certain handsome charm to him. He was in one heck of a hurry in bed, but it was better than nothing. Besides, he sometimes asked her how she felt. It felt good to have a guy ask that once in a while. She wanted to touch him again, to remember what it felt like to have a pair of lips on her neck.
So hows work? she asked out of nowhere.
Its work, he said. He didnt really like talking about work. We had this group of suits in today. One of them got fresh with one of the waitresses and we had to kick him out. The other guys made a big fuss and almost started a fight.
Wow, she said. Sounds exciting.
Yeah, it was. I think she overreacted a little, but they were jerks. Good riddance.
Yknow, she said, I was in a bar in an airport one time, and these two guys were there making so much noise. I dont think they were really that drunk, but they were just hollering and whooping and calling everyone names and just being obnoxious. I couldnt believe they were so unaware of how everyone else saw them.
Mm-hmm. Jeff stood up and went to his desk in the next room, the drink in his left hand and his ear pressed to the phone in his shoulder. Cheryl, unfortunately, hadnt exactly mastered the art of making long stories short. In some ways he saw having to listen to her tales as a kind of pennance for his sins. He sat the drink on a coaster and brought up his modem connection. Thank God for data lines, he thought as he absently listened to Cheryl.
So then a security guard from the airport came over and asked them to pipe down. Not one of the guys from the bar; an airport guard. I mean, when youre getting picked on by the airport cops, its time to call it a day, right?
Yeah, really. Jeff watched the icons dance around on the screen and checked to see if any of his friends were online. He spied Monicas name. Hed met her a couple of months back, when she was in town with some friends. Theyd gone out a couple of times, but nothing significant developed. She was one of those waiting for marriage types, but he suspected she was getting tired of waiting. She was in a long-distance relationship, but theyd agreed to see other people. So in this case at least, Jeff wasnt crossing any lines.
Since she went back to Minneapolis, however, theyd only ever talked online. It was easier than talking on the phone; you could conversationally multitask, with the other person none the wiser. He had to masquerade with Cheryl as he typed, but he had grown adept at pretending to be interested in what women were saying. It was all part of the game.
GreenJeff63: Well hey there miss thang!
Monica smiled as Jeffs message popped up on her screen. He was always fun online, and she was in the mood for fun.
MonInMinn: hey yourself! whats up big guy
GreenJeff63: Not too much. Just got off work..
MonInMinn: hard day?
GreenJeff63: Not bad. Kinda crowded..
MonInMinn: you work tomorrow?
GreenJeff63: Nope, I got two days off. Halleluhja!
She smiled. The afternoon was just finishing up outside Monicas window, but the conversation shed been having with Peter should have been had at night. For some reason, she always preferred to have serious, difficult discussions at night. They were easier to deal with then. There were less distractions. Nighttime is more somber, more appropriate for substantial talk. Right now she just wanted to kick back a little; Jeffs personality was fitting for the time. But Peter hadnt gone away.
PunkPeteX: I dont see what that has to do with it. If were in this thing, we should be in it and be committed. You cant have it both ways.
MonInMinn: I dont want it both ways! youre the one who suggested we see other people in the first place!
PunkPeteX: Yeah but I didnt think it would become something so serious. How long have you been seeing him?
MonInMinn: like two weeks. I told you, its not a big deal.
PunkPeteX: It sounds like a big deal. Howd you meet him?
GreenJeff63: You there?
MonInMinn: yeah, hold on.
She was stuck. Two conversations in two screen windows at the same time could get tricky. Did she want to tell him the truth, or create some silly web of lies to keep him from feeling like he was losing favor in her eyes? Why couldnt he accept the idea of her love being shared by other people? Why was that so hard for him to deal with? The more she thought about it, the more she started to suspect that he was really insecure about this whole thing. For a moment, she thought about calling off the whole see other people idea.
MonInMinn: why do you care so much about it? doesnt it mean anything when I tell you its not a big deal?
PunkPeteX: Fine, lets just drop it...
MonInMinn: look if you meet someone and start going out with her, Im not going to fly off the handle like this. Id be happy for you.
PunkPeteX: Fine, whatever.
MonInMinn: pete, stop it. dont just freeze up like that.
PunkPeteX: What do you want me to say? Good, Monica, go have fun with this guy, and dont worry about me.
MonInMinn: stop being such a little kid! I think about you all the time! its not like this takes away from our relationship.
MonInMinn: sorry, Im having a talk with Pete..
GreenJeff63: Ooh, a lovers quarrel.
MonInMinn: lol! hardly. hes just being aggravating.. nothing too bad
PunkPeteX: Okay fine. look, I feel like were just going in circles, so Im gonna go over to Daves. Call me tomorrow, okay?
MonInMinn: dont go away mad, pete. if you have something to say, say it..
GreenJeff63: Sounds like a lovers quarrel to me..
MonInMinn: nah, just a little disagreement. its so stupid.
GreenJeff63: What about?
MonInMinn: oh.. a couple of months ago he suggested that since were apart for so long, maybe we should allow ourselves to see other people. i was like, fine, because it gets kinda lonely, yknow? but so now Im seeing someone and hes jealous. its so stupid.
PunkPeteX: Ive already said everything I have to say. I wish youd be more up front about this, thats all. I mean, if I met someone and went on a date with them, Id tell you. I told you about Angie, didnt I?
GreenJeff63: What, someone in Minneapolis?
MonInMinn: Yeah.
For some reason, his heart sank. Hed never fancied himself to be her one and only obviously. But the idea of yet another shark in the pool made him clench his teeth. Why werent there any women around who werent in some kind of a relationship, he wondered. It seemed like everyone who could be seeing someone, was. It didnt matter who it was. Like no one held out for anything better.
GreenJeff63: Whats his name?
MonInMinn: not you too! i dont want to talk about it!
Actually, she did want to talk about it, but not with Jeff. Jeff was her fun card, her chance to let down her hair. She didnt want to get into anything heavy with him. He was a daytime chat buddy. Besides, he probably wouldnt have been much good for a meaningful discussion if shed wanted. She liked Jeff, but he wasnt the brightest guy in the world. He was funny and friendly, but when shed asked him what his favorite book was, he said Cat in the Hat. She thought if was a joke, but he never gave a real answer. So instead, she settled for enjoying his company, his sense of humor.
At times, she got the sense that he was looking to get his hands on her, but then she decided she was just being paranoid. He didnt freak out like some guys did when she said she was waiting for marriage.
This was a stressful situation in itself. She loved Peter, and while she didnt really think theyd ever get married, she wanted her first time to be with someone she really truly loved. She didnt want to waste her virginity like so many people she knew.
But it got tough sometimes. More than once she and Pete had been in the throes of passion and shed very nearly said the hell with this and gone through with it. But so far, she hadnt. Sometimes she was surprised by the force of her conviction.
MonInMinn: yeah, but you never told me what happened with her. there was lots of stuff I feel like i didnt get about that.
GreenJeff63: I was kidding, geez! calm down..
MonInMinn: sorry, im kinda frazzled right now
PunkPeteX: I told you, its over. Finished. Why do we have to go into that again?
MonInMinn: you brought it up. besides, i thought you said you still talk to her once in a while.
PunkPeteX: Yeah, to see how shes doing. its nothing serious. I promise.
GreenJeff63: Did you stick your finger in a light socket again? <g>
MonInMinn: lol! not this week..
MonInMinn: okay, i believe you. see, thats not so hard, is it?
PunkPeteX: Oh come on. Lets just drop it already. Im going over to Daves. Call me tomorrow, okay?
MonInMinn: fine. gnite
Peter hit the switch on the computer screen and sat back in his chair. He loved Monica, but some days she made him absolutely crazy. This was one of those days.
He couldnt reconcile his feelings of jealousy; in fact, he could barely admit them to himself. It was true, he had suggested they see other people, when hed met Angie. She was such a passionate person, so driven in what she did. And she did it so well.
There was something about a woman who played the drums. He couldnt keep his eyes off her during the entire concert. She seemed to be having such a good time, so into the music. He could barely speak when Dave had introduced him to her after the show.
Angie, Pete. Pete, Angie. Dave waved his hand between them in his non-committal way of introduction. Dave had never been a social pro, but Angie was obviously well-skilled at picking up other peoples conversational slack.
Heya, Pete, she said as she shook his hand. The first thought he had when she touched him was of a big sister. There was something enfeebling about his hand in hers, that made him feel like a child. But it was a secure feeling, like she was willing to take care of him. He shook his head and realized he was daydreaming.
Im sorry? he asked.
She smiled. I said, how long have you known Dave?
Oh, he said with a sheepish grin. Since middle school. Weve played a lot of soccer together.
Oh, cool, she said. I used to be a goalie. Had to give it up, though. Not much time for that these days. Their band, Crystal Molotov, had been on tour for three weeks, visiting tiny spots around the southwest. Shed met Dave by way of a mutual friend in Las Vegas, and hed convinced them to play a club in Tucson, where he knew the manager.
The band keep you pretty busy? Pete asked calmly, desperately trying not to reveal how infatuated he was.
No, she said with a wave of her hand. Its my job, actually.
What do you do?
Im a vets assistant, she said. I love working with animals. This is just a moonlight gig.
Youre really awesome on the skins, he blurted out, then immediately kicked himself for using both awesome and skins in the same sentence. She chuckled.
Hey, thanks, she said, smiling gently at him.
Peter had never been very good at reading body language, but his novices phrase book definitely had an entry for such a warm smile. He thought about asking her to go get a drink. Suddenly, his mind ignited an image of Monica. What if she were there right now? What would she say? How would he be acting differently? But then again, what did it matter? She wasnt there. She was in another country, for all it mattered. Besides, she wouldnt find out.
But he couldnt shake the image. It was of Monica, in his bed, early one morning when he was leaving for work. The blanket was spread over her whole body, with only her head sticking out the top. Her eyes were only half-closed, watching him as he dressed. When he turned back around, she was grinning at him, the kind of grin that only someone still in bed can give another person who has to leave for work.
Gimme a kiss, shed said.
That image which hed thought about often, but never so vividly was now assaulting him as he sat on the uncomfortable chair in the smoky club still ringing with Crystal Molotovs intense music. Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was the natural tendency of his better judgment (for which hed been criticized more than once by some of his more opportunistic friends), but he dropped his eyes from Angies.
Hey, you wanna get a cup of coffee or something? she asked suddenly.
Yeah, coffee. Theres nothing wrong with coffee. Monica couldnt possibly object to coffee. Monica loved coffee. Sure, he said. I know a cool place not too far from here.
Allright, Angie said. Lemme holler at these guys. She walked over to her bandmates and spoke to them briefly, too far away for Peter to hear. He watched, feeling awkward as one must, when, standing, he is obviously leaving with someone with whom hes never left before. The implications and assumptions raced lightwise at such a time, but there was nothing to be done. He just waited, and then they left.
So, Angie said once they were nestled into a corner booth at the coffee shop, whats her name?
Peter looked up, puzzled. Who? What?
She smiled. You look really guilty, like youre cheating on someone.
Wow, he thought to himself. Beautiful, talented, and she can read minds. He waved the spoon around his mug. Monica, he said at last. Shes in Minneapolis.
She nodded slowly. Long distance kinda thing?
He nodded. Yeah. I hope I didnt seem like
She shook her head quickly. Oh, no. Please, I didnt mean that.
He sipped his drink as she glanced around the place. How long have you two been going out?
Since junior year in high school.
Wow, she said. How old are you?
Twenty, he said. Its been four years.
Four years, she said. Wow. You must really love her.
He nodded. Yeah, I do. But he wanted to tell her about being alone, about missing her so desperately. About not being able to stand the idea of her talking with other guys, of being a single woman on a campus halfway across the country. But why would she want to hear all that?
Have you ever talked about seeing other people?
He froze. She really can read minds, he thought. No, he said. I dont think shed go for it.
It must be really hard, being apart for so long. How often does she come to visit?
She was here at Christmas, he said. Whats that, three months?
Three months, she repeated. I cant imagine. She spoke as if it would be impossible to stay loyal to someone under such circumstances. But it wasnt. Peter had never really wanted to see anyone else before.
Its not so bad, he said. We talk a lot on the phone.
She nodded. Yeah, but that can only be so satisfying.
Was she talking about sex? Should he tell her about Monica? What would she say? Why did it matter? Maybe she meant something totally different.
Do you think she ever thinks about it? Angie asked.
Thinks about what? His mind spun like a roulette wheel.
About seeing other people.
And with that, the tsunami of his fears and doubts came rushing back. Why should she want to see other people? Wasnt he good enough for her? What could she get from them that she couldnt get from him? He shrugged. I doubt it, he said. Shes not really like that.
Angie laughed. And what does being like that mean?
He avoided her eyes, her open, honest eyes, urging him to be open and up-front. He didnt feel like being up-front. I dunno, he said. I just dont think shed go for it. Then, realizing how hed phrased the comment, he wondered if maybe he was more afraid of Monicas answer than she would be of the question.
The next day, he asked it. She agreed immediately. He was really taken aback by the speed with which she answered; it suggested a flood of seething desire to be with other people, which nearly crushed him. But he couldnt admit it he just said how glad he was that they were both okay with it.
But as with so many aspects of their relationship, he really wasnt. He was free to pursue Angie now, sure. She was in town for another night to play a friends party downtown. Anything could go. But it felt more like a failure than a victory.
Even the good time hed had with Angie that night hadnt been much of a cure for his dejection. They went to his apartment and got drunk on cheap whiskey and watched bad late-night TV for a while, before falling asleep on his old brown and orange hand-me-down couch that his great-grandmother had once owned. They kissed once, but he refused to let it go further.
Youre a lesbian? he asked with a jolt as his hands froze, a glass of orange juice halfway to his mouth.
She laughed quickly and ate a spoonful of grits. They were having breakfast in the diner across the street from his building. Thats one way of putting it, she said. You might also say Im in a relationship with a woman in Colorado. She sipped her coffee. In fact, I think that is how I said it.
When were you planning on telling me?
She chuckled. At breakfast today. She set her fork down. Whats the problem?
He sighed and dropped his shoulders. I dont know, he said. I feel like no one wants to be with just me. Like Im not good enough.
She gave an exasperated gasp and looked around the place, making sure to keep her voice low. No one had noticed them yet, but she knew it wouldnt take much. Youre the one who said we should cool it for a while, she said.
He nodded. Yeah, I know. He wanted to believe, though, that her interest in him was more than just after-show giddiness, that he had something to look forward to before the end of the semester, something that he could put his hands on. He was sick of feeling his own skin.
Do you even know what you want? She asked it with contempt that made his stomach churn.
He poked his eggs and sighed.
And now that Monica was seeing this new guy, he knew exactly what he wanted he wanted to have some fun of his own. He had called it off with Angie because he didnt want to hurt Monica. But now that she was playing the field, he felt stupid for not having taken the chance when hed had it.
He reached over to the desk drawer and pulled out a tiny blue spiral-bound notebook. He flipped through it until he came to Angies name and phone number. It had been weeks since theyd talked, but he really wanted to hear her voice. Suppose Laura picked up? Theyd spoken a couple of times, but never for very long. She always sounded very nice and friendly, but with a hint of suspicion. More like a roommate than a girlfriend. He didnt know if he could handle having to speak to her tonight, though. The longer he stared at the notebook, the more his chest hurt. He picked up the phone and dialed.
Hello? It was Laura.
Uh, was all Peter could say. Um, is Angie there?
Actually, shes out of town. Can I tell her whos calling?
He paused. If he hung up now, it would just be a weird out-of-the-blue prank call. Its Peter, he said finally.
Oh, hi, Peter, Laura said. Angies actually in Maine, at a vets conference. I think I have the number here somewhere. He could hear her rustling papers and moving around. Yeah, here we go. She read him the number, he thanked her, and they hung up.
For a few minutes, he sat silently and stared at his desk. He couldnt understand what kind of relationship Laura and Angie had, where she didnt mind if Peter was calling for her. Angie had said that it was open and theyd agreed to not be monogamous, but he couldnt believe it was just that easy. It couldnt be. Still, Laura was always very friendly on the phone. He dialed the number, wondering what she said about him to Angie.
Hes such a little wiener, Angie! Laura said, laughing.
Angie laughed too. Yeah, but hes a good guy. In a hotel room in Augusta, Maine, Angie lay sprawled on the queen-sized bed, a sheaf of papers scattered before her. She had turned away from them, determined not to work while on the phone. She had a severe tendency to multitask, and Laura always gave her a hard time about it. She personally didnt see the problem, but Laura convinced her that she felt underattended when she did it, so she made a conscious effort these days not to.
I guess I need to meet him. He always sounds like hes scared Im gonna go to his house and stab him or something.
Yeah, thats Peter allright. Hes just confused about a lot of stuff.
Like what?
Like what he wants from his relationships. And who he is, really. He seems lost in a swarm of conflicting identities.
Sounds like most guys I know.
Yeah. Tell me about it. The call-waiting tone sounded. Oh, wait, Angie said. Ill bet this is him. Hold on a sec?
Sure.
Angie clicked over. Hello?
Umm, is this Angie?
Hi, Pete. How are ya?
Okay, I guess. Ive been meaning to call, but I
Hey Pete, Angie interrupted. Can I call you right back? Im on the other line with someone.
Oh. He paused, longer than she thought he would have. Sure, he said. No problem.
Thanks. Bye. She clicked back.
Laura?
Was it him?
She laughed. Yeah. He sounded real depressed. Remind me to call him back tonight.
Call him back tonight.
Ha, ha.
I think its most women, too.
Ythink? Angie asked. I dunno. Seems like most gals have some basic sense of where theyre at, even if it is . . . . Well, I guess I would say they seem less twisted up in diffuse realities. There seems to be more grounding of female identity.
Phh, Laura said. Maybe for you. You dont live with my parents.
Neither do you, Angie protested.
Yeah, but I see em three times a year.
But its not like your identity changes when youre around them.
No, but Im definitely wrestling with a different reality. Im wearing masks. You do it too.
Sure. But you gotta see this guy. Its like hes got a different mask for each hour of the day. Theres just more double-faced-ness involved in being a guy. I dont mean it in a bad way, its just a matter of being in different ways with different people. Women feel more open to be themselves.
Laura stopped herself short. Think about that. Do you really think that?
Hmm. Well, maybe not themselves. She paused. How about this: Men are more able to be themselves when they find another person, whereas women usually still have to wear a mask with that other person. But in general, there are fewer situations where women have to wear masks and take cover.
I dont know. Ive bitten my tongue many, many times in my life.
Yeah, but its usually the same kind of tongue-biting. What I mean is that there are so many different masks that guys have to wear, so many different roles they have to play at least if theyre self-conscious. On the other hand, it doesnt go as deep. Maybe because there are so many personalities that guys can switch into, there isnt such a sense of betrayal to their true selves when they have to keep quiet in a group of people. They have so many different identities they can decide between, but no one core sense that trumps any other one.
Maybe. God, what a depressing way to live.
Yeah, I cant imagine how they deal with it.
Well lets not forget that theres power in that way of living. Freedom from a core identity translates into a kind of moral and ethical ambiguity.
Angie nodded. Yeah. But do you think
Hold on. Colette wants out. Laura put the phone down and paced over to the door to let their black and grey tabby outside.
Angie lay back and stared at the faintly textured ceiling of the hotel room. She thought about Peter and how unhappy he must be. He seemed to be lacking so much. She almost felt like a big sister to him.
Sorry, Laura said, regaining the receiver. What were you saying?
I dont remember. Something about male identity.
Oh yeah. You sound tired.
Im exhausted.
Hows it going?
Not bad. Lots of good stuff to learn, but its getting to overload capacity. I dont know how Im going to last through another day.
Are they giving away lots of cool stuff?
Not as much as they did last year. I was hoping those pet-soap people would be back again, but the word around the campfire is that they folded.
No!
Yeah. Maybe its just a rumor, but theyre not here, anyway.
What a letdown. Laura watched as Colette tiptoed along the distant windowsill across the room from her. She could never understand it the cat would meow and meow to be let outside, just to get to the opposite side of the window she sat in front of all day.
Colette had gone crazy for the cat soap that Angie had brought home from the vet conference last year; for the first time either of them could remember, she actually sat still during a bath. But like so many good things, it looked to be a one-time-only event.
They had gotten the cat when Angie moved into Lauras house. More of a cottage, really, just outside of Denver. The main theme of the place was: brown. Laura was very, very into brown things. It was a monochromatic smorgasborg of tan, burnt sienna, amber, cocoa, beige, copper, and even a little gold here and there. It all blended into the wood frame of the house, so that sometimes the furnishings were indistinguishable from the linens were indistinguishable from the carpet. Laura loved the continuity of it all.
Angie had had some trouble getting used to it she preferred a more vibrant, audacious decor. But Laura was so absolutely peaceful in the surroundings, and convinced Angie to give it a try. Three years later the house was as relaxing to Laura as ever.
She was drinking coffee at the long narrow table in what they laughingly called the dining room. Laughingly, since they rarely dined on it (Angie had been constructing a jigsaw puzzle on it for almost five weeks). More meals had been taken on TV trays in the family room than would ever see the dining room. Maybe when they were older, Laura thought.
Laura liked thinking about when they were older. There was a glowing comfort in their closeness, an ember of satisfaction that always gave her pause. She didnt often bring it up with Angie, but she sensed a similar calm in her for their prospects for the years ahead. Their ability to see other people, their relaxed attitudes about dating, were forged in a sacred trust they had in one another, one which would outlast any petty squabble, any fleeting crush, any minor turmoil. They had a good time talking about other people occasionally making fun of them after trysts or flings.
Their relationship was the backdrop for their lives, rather than the other way around which is what usually happened, Laura noticed. From her parents to her brother to her very good friend Isaac from college, she saw relationships taken more out of desperation than any real interest or commitment. She saw marriages held together by spit and lies, threadbare and smoldering at the frayed edges. There were exceptions, but deceit was the order of the day, and it made her nauseous.
If it wasnt deceit, it was half-truths and buried emotion. Everyone seemed to prefer demuring and abiding rather than painful honesty. Both expressing and accepting. No one wanted to say it, and no one wanted to hear it. She was sometimes guilty of this herself. Where did it all start? And would it ever end? Would there be a gutsy young kid someday who would say Hey Pop, youre full of shit! and start a riot in the family? Is that what it would take? Would Pop even listen, especially if he already knew he was full of shit? And how far would it go? Would other kids notice and follow suit? No, probably not. The kid would probably just get sent to his room without supper and it would end there.
We learned the silent skills of silence by observing and taking notes. What power there was in watching to feel what others did and said and take on an unspoken vow of non-repetition, even if it meant constant, mind-numbing repetition of events and rituals so asinine and life-stealing as to border on homicidal. What a cyclone of misery and desperation!
Would it happen to them? Could she and Angie avoid that sickness, that agony of knowing that everyone knows or suspects everything, but having no one to admit it? Was it possible that theyd reach that point and not even know it? Would a similar but fundamentally different situation creep into their lives? Would they ever have secrets? Did Angie have any now?
She had none from Angie, the only person in the world for whom that was true. Everyone else she knew didnt know something about her. But everything was out on the table for Angie. She would slit her wrists with confessions before shed lie to her. It was all there, and what a freedom ensued. She remembered hearing once that telling the truth means you dont have to keep track of all your lies what an absolute truism. Of course, keeping track of the truth wasnt always so easy, especially when other lies were needed for other people. Still, being able to talk about your lies with someone made finding the truth that much easier.
And yet, being two people in honesty while adrift in a sea of hogwash and bullshit was sometimes not very different from being one person, honest with yourself. Occasionally she wondered if it was anything like how schizophrenics felt. To wade through all the nonsense and dementia of the world, clinging to someone else as to a rotting log a bizarre form of freedom. Never mind the possibility of something happening to the other person. What if you began to mistrust them? Was it possible for two people to go on forever without anything to lie about?
Hey, Angie said. Whatever happened to that chick in Pittsburgh? Stephanie? Sally?
Susan, Laura said. I dunno. She was supposed to call me last week, but she never did. Maybe I should give her a ring.
Or maybe you should just let it go.
Oh come on, dont start.
Look, just because you dont have any respect for the institution
They were getting loud, but they kept it civil. There was no animosity in their volume. Hey, dont preach to me. Shes the one stepping outside the line. I never made any vows to anyone.
That doesnt make it right. Shes confused and vulnerable and looking for someone to talk to. Youre taking advantage of her.
Oh please! About as much as youre taking advantage of Peter.
Angie opened her mouth to speak, then stopped.
Laura grinned. Whats that? Speak up.
Thats different.
Why?
Because she knows about me.
Does she?
Well okay. Theyre agreed to see other people. Theres no secrets between them.
A, Im sure there are plenty of secrets between them. And B, do you really believe that this is the only secret Susan is keeping from her husband? Or that hes not keeping some from her? I wouldnt be surprised if hes cheating on her. Besides, we havent slept together or anything. We just hung out.
Yeah, not yet.
Shut up. Laura smiled.
Look, all Im saying is that youre probably setting yourself up for a fall. You said she was happy in her marriage, right?
Thats what she said. But I think she was repressing.
Yeah, well, thats for you to find out, not to speculate and assume.
Allright, allright. Are you done now?
Angie sighed and closed her eyes. She was frustrated, but didnt want to push it. Yeah, Im done, she said. I gotta run. I need to take a shower.
And call Peter.
And call Peter.
Okay, darlin. Have a good night.
You too. She made the quiet, gentle sound of an elongated kiss. It was a silly, visceral gesture theyd developed when Angie was on the road. Something about the aural sensation made it part of their hanging-up ritual. She felt silly doing it, but liked it anyway.
Laura sighed briefly, happily, and hung up. Angie was right and she knew it, but she didnt want to admit it. Laura had a tendency to look down on married women, as if they were heading into a dead end. Consequently, she was able to convince herself that she was providing a service. Shed done it with another woman, two years ago. It turned into a giant fiasco, but no irreparable harm was done. In fact, in that case it turned out that the guy was cheating, so in a way she felt vindicated. Still, theres an itchy feeling of sin that doesnt wash away with self-righteousness.
And yet, Susan was a total hottie, and she could juggle. What was it about that that turned her on so? She remembered watching Susan fling lemons around in her kitchen when they first met. Her agility made Laura pause and hold in her breath. She moved with such ease, almost not noticing that she was tossing four citrus fruits in the air with perfect symmetry.
Her husband Brian was her second, and she was his. Her first had ended under mutual agreement to fundamental differences. She spoke about how she was glad no kids had been involved, but that everything worked out okay. When Laura asked if she ever had second thoughts about marriage itself, Susan just shrugged and said not really and continued juggling.
She spoke lovingly of Brian, about how he listened to music with a firey passion, about how he loved to play tennis for hours, about the excellent lasagna he made. About how he loved his mom and his sisters and had basically raised them by himself after his dad died and his mom went into the hospital. She talked about Brian with a kind of respect that Laura hadnt heard in a womans voice when speaking about a man for a long time. Plenty of women talked about how they loved and admired men, the men in their lives. But she didnt very often hear respect come through, respect borne of respect. But Susan had it.
They had talked until dawn, at times touching, but most of the time not. Susan had stroked Lauras arm for a little bit, and laid her head on her lap at one point. Theyd dipped into a brief discussion about how Susan felt kind of curious a little sometimes once in a while, but then she turned it away. Still, when she left, they hugged closely and Laura had rubbed her hand on Susans back and shoulders for longer than she might have otherwise. Susan had promised to call as she left.
It was the kind of interaction that left Laura feeling uncertain, but optimistically so. She didnt want to hurt Susan or Brian, but if there was a chance for them to get together and share something or somethings with each other, what harm was there? They obviously got along pretty well. What was wrong with going a little further?
She found Susans number and dialed it. Only when it started ringing did she wonder what she would say if Brian picked up.
Hello? It wasnt Brian.
Hi, Susan, Laura said. Its Laura.
Laura. She processed the name a little in silence. Oh, Laura! Im so sorry. How are you?
Im okay. How have you been?
Im good. Pretty busy, though. Things have been kinda crazy at work. Hows Colette?
Laura smiled. Susan was allergic to cats, but had been infatuated with Colette all the same. She said she looked regal, like the kind of cat a pharaoh in Egypt would own. Shes fine. Did I catch you at a bad time?
No, not at all. I was just paying bills. Im really sorry for not calling.
Its okay, dont worry about it. Did you have a good trip back?
Yeah, it was fine. I sat next to this old guy on the plane who talked to me about his grandkids. I wanted to read, but he seemed like he needed someone to talk to.
I think I sat next to that guy on a plane once, Laura said.
Susan laughed. She set her pen down and backed her chair away from the kitchen table. A half-filled mug of tea sat beside a stack of sealed and stamped envelopes. She leaned back, picked up the mug, and sipped from it. Hows Angie doing? she asked.
Angies fine, Laura replied. Shes at a conference in Maine.
In Maine, huh? Must be tough to have her gone so often.
Yeah, it gets kinda lonely. But I have enough to keep me occupied.
Yes, but busy and content are two different things. Even as the sentence was completing itself, Susan realized suddenly that she was content for the first time in a long time. Something about the situation overwhelmed her, something about being alone in the house in the evening with a mug of lemon tea and a new friend on the phone. In the blaze of neuron-firing, she thought of the paneling in her first apartment, of how fake but like wood it had seemed. So easy to put a nail through. It was basically plastic, surrounding her entire front room.
Her house now was so different. It was brick and concrete and real wood and plaster and solid and gentle and real. It was harder to hang things on the wall, but when she did, they stay put. There was more satisfaction in hanging something here.
Of course, she hadnt built either the apartment or the house. Paneling, she knew, was used for a reason its cheap and easy to install and looks good if you only glance at it. But now that she was looking at things for longer periods of time, she wanted a more durable surface on which to rest her eyes. Her walls now werent very flashy or decorative as was the paneling, but there was more to them.
True, Laura said. But Im usually content when Im busy.
Really? Susan asked. You like having a full plate?
Absolutely. I cant stand being idle. Actually, I take that back. Its not that I cant stand it, I just never do it. When I find myself with nothing to do, I have a long list of things Ive been meaning to get to that I go do. I think the only people who get bored are people who dont think while theyre doing other things. I cant keep my mind from generating things for me to do.
Now thats interesting, Susan said. I dont think like that at all. As soon as I get done with what Im doing, I try to put myself on pause for as long as I can. Its so nice to be finished with something. Dont you like taking time to appreciate what youve done?
Sure, but I dont dwell on it. How long does it take to do that?
Well, that depends on what youve done and how well you did it. You cant appreciate a steam engine you put together the same way you can a doodle you draw on a scrap of paper.
You admire your doodles?
Sure, why not?
Because theyre doodles.
So what?
So their whole reason for being is to distract, to keep ones mind on the task at hand. Theyre not art objects.
Sure they are.
Youre out of your mind. She laughed.
Well, mine are. It was a conversational trick her father had once taught her when in an argument, phrase your point as a personal opinion and the other person wont be able to refute it. To be proper by his rules, she really should have said I think mine are, but her way worked just as well, and in less words. She grinned at Lauras silence. So whats up? she asked then, as a way of trying to determine the reason for the call. Susan was supposed to have called, but it couldnt just be a reminder; Laura wasnt like that.
Of course, she wasnt sure what Laura was like. There was an attraction between them that Susan wanted to call chemistry, if only that word didnt make her sick. She just liked feeling Lauras skin while they talked. She placed her hands on and around Susans body in a delicate way, a way that neither made her shiver nor recoil slightly as she often did when she met someone new. It was unobtrusive, Lauras hand. It was there, just barely enough to notice, and moved slowly. It was a hand that preferred skin to fabric, person to object.
Brians hand was similar, but less sinuous. Lauras hand had destinations, whereas Brians had objectives. He had a way of tracing patterns on her back after they made love that sent her into a soothed daze. He used only his fingertips, moving slowly and rhythmically across her spine, around her ribs. It was relaxing, but never put her to sleep; it was a form of revitalization.
Nothing much, Laura said evenly. I just wanted to see how you were doing, how your trip back was. That kind of thing. She wanted a lot more, but she wasnt sure how strong she was allowed to come on. She waited.
Thats all? Susan asked.
Well, not really. I also wanted to tell you that I had a really good time when you were here. I hope we can do it again sometime.
I see. She sipped. Well, I think I would like that, too, only I dont really travel that much. Are you planning on coming out this way anytime soon?
Im sure I could find an excuse if I tried, she said. Ive got a three day weekend coming up in two weeks.
Two weeks? Susan asked, leaning over so she could see the calendar. Whats that, the twenty-fifth?
The twenty-sixth is Friday, Laura said. Is that a bad time?
No, she said. Brianll probably be travelling anyway. He said he had a series of things out of town at the end of the month.
Can I ask you something? Laura said.
Susan froze, for just a second. She knew this would come up sooner or later. Was she guilty of anything, considering they hadnt really done anything? Was she supposed to be feeling guilty? This wasnt very complicated in Susans mind there were some things she liked about women. Period. It didnt take away from her love for Brian, but still she felt like Hester Prynne for some bizarre reason. What? she asked, realizing she was more tense than shed imagined.
Well, have you said anything to Brian yet?
No, not yet. She let out a sigh.
Dont you think you should?
Look, I
Susan, I just think
Why does it have to be so complex? she asked with a sigh.
I feel bad doing all this behind his back, Laura said. I know you said its not a problem and that you think hed be cool with it, but so then whats the problem? Why not just ask him?
Because it feels good right now and I dont want to think of the possibility that he might say no.
Laura laughed, and Susan resisted letting the sound wash over her like it normally would, seeping into her pores like a soapy lather. Well, at least youre honest about it, Laura said.
I know I need to, but we havent even done anything yet.
And you think itll be easier to talk about afterwards? I mean, didnt you agree to forsake all others?
Actually, we wrote our own vows. That wasnt one of them.
So how do you know hes not out screwing someone else?
Because I trust him.
She chuckled. Pardon my laugh.
What? You trust Angie, dont you?
Laura paused. TouchŽ.
There was a long quiet. Susan could hear the hum of Lauras ceiling fan. The twenty-sixth, huh?
The twenty-sixth.
Ill call you tomorrow, okay?
Ill be waiting.
Have a good night.
You too. Night.
Susan clicked the phone off and placed it on the table, then drained her mug. Okay, she thought. No time like the present.
Part of her and Brians whole relationship was a relaxed attitude. Of course, sometimes this was easier believed than truly believed, but she liked to think they were both open and accepting people. Hed complained about his first wife putting too many restrictions on him, and shed felt the same way about her first mate. Still, this was going a bit further. They agreed liberally to allow one another to see their friends alone, but this was in a different ballpark.
But why would Brian object, logically? Well, that was the key word, wasnt it? She paused and thought about how shed feel if the tables were turned. What if Brian asked her if it was okay if he had a fling with one of his buddies at work? Id be okay with it, she said out loud, but quietly. Then she thought about it and realized she was only being half honest. What would he do that I couldnt do? She wondered. She would want to sit in and watch.
Shed actually thought about some kind of menage-a-trois, but each time she did, she shook her head and realized it was probably a really bad idea. But who knows? Maybe it was possible. Maybe it could even be a good thing for them all. Laura and Angie did okay seeing other people. Why couldnt Brian and her do the same thing?
She laughed. Im sure hed love to hear that, she said to herself. Honey, I think we should model our relationship more like my lesbian friends in Colorado.
But why not? What was so normal about bolting ones love to another single individual and trying never to even look at another person? What sense did it make to forsake all others? How did that nourish the soul? She realized she was staring at the wall, not at the framed print of Picassos Guernica, but near it. The blue had caught her eye, but she didnt want to stare into that jumble of images.
She glanced over at the torn page of newspaper with Brians hotel room phone number on it. She picked up the phone and dialed it. Her chest was pounding. What if he got mad? What if this shook their whole relationship?
After five rings, she was ready Êand relieved to hang up, but a click came and she froze. Brian? she asked.
Hang on a second, his voice said from a slight distance.
She smiled and imagined him throwing the phone on the bed, his body wrapped in a heavily bleached white towel, dripping water on the floor. She could hear him moving around.
Sorry, he said finally. I was in the shower.
I knew it, she screamed inside. How ya doin, hon?
Not bad, sugar, he said. Shed informed him on their second date that he could call her anything but sugar. And so, ever since then, he never called her anything else. Shed grown to hate it even more, but loved the playful side of him that had subsumed the joke into his regular speech pattern. There were several instances where shed loved something about Brian while at the same time disliking something about the same thing. It was a bizarre and, she guessed, dysfunctional tendency, but there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. At this point, she decided it was a matter of choosing which aspect to focus on the one that made her happy or the one that infuriated her. And she thought the same must be true for him; some things she did must surely make him both happy and upset.
How was your meeting tonight? Brian had gone out to dinner with a client, one of his least favorite activities.
It went fine. I think hes gonna go with us. How are you doing?
Umm, Im okay, she said, wanting to make it obvious that she had something she wanted to talk about, without just dropping it out of the blue. Shed done it several times before, most notably when she suggested they get married.
Brian hadnt proposed; Susan was the one who brought it up, and she didnt phrase it as though she expected him to propose. She just said she thought it would be a good idea, and Brian agreed, so they did. Theyd never looked back.
Uh oh, Brian said, sitting down on the bed. He had been standing in front of the TV, flipping through the channels with the volume turned off, but he clicked the power off and gave her his full attention. That sounds ominous.
No, she said. Not ominous. Just somethings been on my mind a little.
That sounds ominous, he said again. What is it?
Its nothing bad, she assured him; but it had the opposite effect.
He chewed his right middle fingernail. What? he asked.
Aw jeez, she said. Now youre all tense.
Just what is it?
Okay. Do you remember that friend of Debbies that I stayed with in Colorado?
Yeah. The lesbian.
Susan cringed. That he thought of her first, foremost, and only in terms of her sexuality indicated that his thoughts were narrow, and that he was probably already thinking about where this was headed. Right, she said.
What about her?
Well, shes going to be making a trip out here in a couple of weeks. Her mind zipped through a package of plausible explanations and picked one. Shes got a cousin out here. She looked around while Brian paused. That was as good as anything
Okay, he said finally. And?
Well, she. . . . Susan stopped. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Susan, just say it.
She clenched a fist and just ran ahead. Okay. Well, when I was in Denver, we had a really good time, and we got to know each other pretty good. And we talked about a lot of stuff. And one of the things we talked about was how well we got along. And she really liked me and I like her, I think shes a really nice person, a good person, and at one point she asked if she could kiss me but I said no because were married and we didnt do anything, but now shes coming out here and Id really like to see her but I dont want to be unfaithful to you but I thought maybe you might not have a problem with it and it doesnt mean I dont love you every bit as much as I always have, even though I know it would be weird for me if you wanted to do something like this, and I totally understand if you dont want me to, but like I said, it would really make me happy. She was out of breath, but continued to hold it.
She held it for a long time.
A really long time.
Silently, slowly, she let it out, waiting for some sort of sound from the other end of the line.
Oh, Brian said at last. I see.
Brian, you know that I
Susan, hold on. Stop.
She stopped. She heard him breathing rapidly.
Can I call you back? I want to think about this for a second.
You can think about it. I dont want to hang up.
Okay. Hold on. She heard him set the phone down.
Brian walked across the hotel room and zipped open his suitcase. He reached in and pulled out a pair of grey gym shorts and a faded blue tank top. He pulled off the towel and put on his relaxation clothes. Then he walked back into the main part of the room and sat down on the uncomfortable desk chair, leaned his head backward in it, and stared at the ceiling.
How could she want an answer right now? What kind of question was that? How could she even think of such a thing? Was there something wrong with their marriage? Already? Had he done something wrong? Was she telling the truth about Denver? It seemed unlikely.
He slowly shook his head, trying to build himself up into thinking about the question itself. He was scared to confront it head-on. He was worried about being honest with himself on the matter.
His initial reaction was: Cool, my wife with a lesbian! But this id-ified nonsense was immediately trumped by his common sense, which said that wedding vows were Sacred and nothing should ever disrupt them. Of course, that hadnt stopped his ex-wife from cheating on him. But again, two wrongs didnt make a right. Still, Brian prided himself on being rational, so he tried to banish all jerking of knees from his mind and get his brain around the actual question itself.
Why should he mind? She said that it didnt diminish her love for him any, and he believed her. In a way, he suspected it was a kind of idle fancy, something that just sort of came up, and would probably go away just as quickly. What harm could it do?
Plenty, probably. What if he started regretting it later? What if she liked it better than she liked him? What if she convinced her that heterosexuality was all wrong for her and she made Susan a lesbian? And what would his friends say? Sure, it was a standard male fantasy. But to be confronted with the real thing? That was a different story altogether, a much less pleasant story. Few things cut into a luscious fantasy like reality.
Besides, he wouldnt even be a part of it. Hed be sitting at home, or on the road, wondering how magnificent of a time his wife was having with this woman from Denver. Now that he thought about it, hed known another lesbian from Denver. His brother had met a woman in college from Denver, and she was a lesbian, too. It was a coincidence, and he knew it was a coincidence, and tried to treat it like a coincidence, but as the thought of his wife being intimate with this Laura person burrowed into his mind, he had trouble thinking of it as a coincidence. He started to think about Denver as the Land of the Lesbians, where young girls were instructed in how to reject men and sleep with each other. And other mens wives.
Then he shook his head a little and realized how stupid that was. And yet, the more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea. They had committed to each other, and she even said herself that she would feel unfaithful. He had the chance to say no, and he was going to say it. Not just because the idea made him insecure and nervous, but because of the principle and the promises theyd made, even if that wasnt explicitly one of them, and because they trusted each other. It just felt wrong.
He got up, walked over to the phone, and picked it up. Susan, he said.
Brian, I
Susan, listen. He sighed and she fell silent. If you really want this, then I want you to do it, he said.
There had been a moment, just in the time during which he brought the receiver to his ear less than a second where her words would really make me happy struck him in the face. They swept through his mind and sank into his gums and whistled in his ear, like the touch of her voice itself. His words of assent surprised even him for a second.
Are you sure? she said timidly.
Yes, he lied. I want you to be happy at all times. And if that means going out with someone else once or twice, then I want to think that I can accept that.
Oh, Brian, she said. He could hear tears welling in her eyes. I love you. Im sorry.
I love you too, he said.
Call me tomorrow, okay? she asked.
I will. Goodnight, Susan.
Good night.
He hung up the phone and fell on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. What in the world had he just done? Was this the moment he would look back on in ten years as the Stupidest Thing Hed Ever Done? Everyone had a Stupidest Thing Theyd Ever Done, but how many people could identify it as it came upon them? Especially when hed had the power to keep it from happening?
His doubts and fears and paranoia and anger and insecurity and anxiety and nervousness and curiosity and intrigue all came flooding back into his head, but he didnt want to deal with them. So he sat up and turned on the TV.
A used car salesman assaulted him until he changed the channel to a beauty pageant, which he quickly tired of, and turned over to an ad for a quickie loan company. He kept flicking through the channels of banality, trying to find something that wouldnt put him to sleep. He was tired, but not yet ready to sleep. The decision to sleep and it was a decision was akin to conceding defeat to the day. As he waded through the pastiche of commerce and enterborement, he thought of how slightly different the TV here was from TV at home. Similar in many ways, but characteristically altered in certain distinct ways to reflect the community or at least the notion of the community imagined by marketing firms and executive bodies. So this is Kansas City, he thought.
He couldnt take the TV. Instead of distracting him, its stupidity just made his mind race all the more. He needed something that would infect his mind and take the place of his current thoughts. Reading wouldnt do it; it would take too long to absorb him. Instead, he opened his business tote and withdrew his laptop computer. He set it up on the round green-and-tan table beside the uncomfortable desk chair, and plugged it in. After several minutes of slow activity, he was online.
And when the startup screen greeted him, he saw in the lower-right corner a tiny image of a man and a woman, a bride and a groom. It advertised a section of the network dealing with weddings and marriages and matrimony. Getting hitched? the copy read. Check out Wedding Central for tips on planning, preparations, food, clothing, and more!
Theyd honeymooned in Rio, during Carnivale. It had been a week of noise, of sex, of being very drunk. When it was all over, He remembered Susan had a strange look of bewilderment, as if caught off-guard by the whole experience. Their plane ride home had taken seven hours.
Head still hurt? Brian asked an hour into the flight.
Susan nodded slowly. She was reclined, her eyes closed. She had headphones on, playing quiet classical music.
Brian had been reading, but he was getting bored with the courtroom drama unfolding on the mass-market pages before him. He bookmarked the page and put it away. He moved slowly, as if in slow motion. As if his motion would cause Susans brain to move around unnecessarily inside her head and thereby cause still more discomfort. Part of it was that she hadnt slept yet he could tell when she was asleep, and so far in the flight, she hadnt been. Judging from what he knew of her, a little sleep (or maybe a lot) was the only thing that would really cure her headache. But of course he couldnt just wave his hand and put her to sleep. But he wished he could.
Next to him sat a woman, just past middle age, in a very ugly orange and brown blouse and a dark brown skirt. She was a mildly attractive woman, in a way that reminded Brian of his mother. Something about her face comforted him, as if she had already been through the worst of life but didnt let it bother her. She had a small plastic cup with a drink and ice cubes in it, but he couldnt tell what it was. She had smiled to him a couple of times as they took off, but hadnt yet said a word. She noticed him stash his book in the pocket of the seat in front.
When she spoke, it was with a thick Spanish accent. You scared to fly? she asked, her thick lips adding a plush overtone.
He turned and smiled at her. No, he said. Not really. I flew in the Air Force for a few years. I like it better when Im at the front of the plane.
At controls, she said.
Right. He nodded.
She waved a hand. Me, horrified. Two things help.
Oh? he asked. Whats that?
She reached down and lifted a gold cross up from where it sat dangling from a chain between her breasts. Jesus, she said. Then she raised her small plastic cup and smiled. And whiskey. She drank.
Two hours later, Susan had slept but still seemed out of it. Brian had plowed through fifty more pages of his novel, but had turned now to the in-flight catalogues that seemed to plague every airborne vessel on which he set foot these days.
Whatre you planning to order from that? Susan said wearily, rolling over (as much as one could in an airplane seat) to face him. Her voice was low and murky, just risen from the depths of slumber.
I wanna get this deluxe doormat here that plays one of three whimsical tunes when someone wipes their feet on it. We can get it in grey or brown, and theyll print our family name on it for only fifteen dollars.
She chuckled and wrapped the scratchy airline blanket around her shoulders. Now why would anyone want something so stupid? she asked.
Because its in a catalogue. Look. He flipped back to page three, where a large picture of the president of the company gave the reader his Personal Guarantee that all items were of Top Quality and promised Lasting Satisfaction. Weve got his Personal Guarantee.
Guarantees are worthless, she said. Everyones guaranteeing everything nowadays. The more I hear it, the more I hate it. Because what do you do if the thing breaks, or doesnt do what its supposed to, or Im not One Hundred Percent Satisfied? Who backs up the guarantee? Its a gimmick, like that talking dog.
Remember those temporary tattoos we saw with his face on em? We shoulda gotten some. Susan had vehemently rejected the idea that they plaster a talking dog on their biceps, even if it did promise to disappear in nine days.
Hey, lover boy!
The message appeared with a flare and a chime right in the middle of Brians reverie. He blinked a few times, then rubbed his eyes. It was from Yvonne.
USAF22B: my dear yvonne, how lovely to hear your voice again.
YveWasFramd: My cyber-voice, you mean.
USAF22B: right, your lilting cyber-voice.
YveWasFramd: How have you been, my sweet?
USAF22B: been better, been worse. you?
YveWasFramd: Ive been okay. I met this guy the other day at work, and we went out for a drink. Im gonna see him again tonight.
USAF22B: ooh, someones competing for your attention, eh?
YveWasFramd: Lol! You know I only have eyes for you..
USAF22B: i bet you say that to all the guys. <g>
YveWasFramd: Only the cute ones.. ;-)
USAF22B: so whats his name?
YveWasFramd: Warren.
YveWasFramd: Hes in town on some business trip.
USAF22B: ill bet lots of guys hit on you while theyre checking in.
YveWasFramd: Yeah, but usually they keep it short when they realize Im not interested.
USAF22B: so whats different about warren?
YveWasFramd: Awww, youre jealous.
USAF22B: can you blame me?
YveWasFramd: No, not really :-)
Brian loved chatting with Yvonne. Theirs was a friendship cut from the exact opposite of platonic love. It was sheer passion, splayed out on the computer screen in ones and zeroes. They dabbled in the mundania of their lives sometimes, but for the most part their talk floated on the surface of the moment. They each had more than enough reality when they needed it, and they found a kind of heated refuge in each others words.
Some weeks ago, Brian had tried to decide if he was cheating on Susan or not, and he finally decided that he wasnt. Indeed, when he brought it up with her, shed been more curious than upset. At one point Susan had laughingly suggested that Yvonne might very well be some twelve-year-old kid in New Jersey playing a goof on him, but he knew there was no way. Their interactions were real, the kind of visceral real that didnt come from the silly blather that made up most online discussions.
There was something about being online that Brian savored; the feeling of letting his mind wander and pick through its meanderings, while at the same time conducting a discussion with someone else hundreds of miles away. It was a schizophrenic impulse, he imagined, but he didnt care; it felt good to have the simultaneous option to think and not think. And of course, if he tired of one or the other, he could close the door on it.
The online identity, he had begun to think, was a true identity, just as true as the work identity, the husband identity, or the laundromat identity. The only difference was that there were no (or almost no) physical ramifications of its actions. Which probably explained most of the asinine behavior exhibited by the numbskulls online. And yet there were those gems that he ran across every so often like Yvonne. She and Brian started out with silly cyberflirting, and had gone all the way to cybergetting hot and sweaty, and back again. These days they kept things somewhat warm titilating, but mostly benign. Not that anyone felt bad about the raw surges theyd once favored; it just didnt feel as good for as long a time. There was more satisfaction in the slower, more emotive interchanges. Less fire, but more energy. Less electricity, but more light.
USAF22B: but its okay, because i doubt he can turn you on like i can..
YveWasFramd: Well, no one can do that.. <g>
USAF22B: no one can kiss you on the neck like i can..
YveWasFramd: Mmm..
USAF22B: no one can rub your shoulders like i can..
YveWasFramd: Yeah, or give me foot massages.
USAF22B: exactly..
Except that cyberfoot massages only brought so much relief. She wanted a real foot massage. Yvonne loved talking to Brian online, but she missed the actual physical sensations too. It had been three years since Tony died. Three long, painful, confusing, conflicted years. Years of heartache and sorrow and all that other usual I miss my husband shit, but years too of physical absence. She had some callers once in a while, but they were mostly dolts. Like Brian had said, a fair share of the insurance salesmen checking into the hotel would hit on her, but they were usually married. The ones who werent, werent for a reason.
But even beyond that, she felt distanced from people. Even her friends seemed far away these days. Like they were afraid of stepping on her toes, to the point where they werent stepping anywhere near her, just to be safe. She knew the main reason why they kept away, but she wanted to believe they were better than that. Unfortunately, they hadnt taken the many opportunities shed given them to prove it.
Shed realized recently that she was developing a peculiar worldview, one that embodied both an essential love for all people, completely shot through all of her beliefs, and actions and morals, and thoughts, and ideas, and activities on the one hand; and on the other, a rather intense irritation that developed almost immediately when she met someone. Most of the people she met at work did something or said something that ticked her off, as much as she tried to dismiss it. Her friends performances of late, meanwhile, had been pretty lackluster. And the less said about the people she met online, the better. Sometimes it was hard to believe there were actual people on the other end of the line.
And yet it was people like Brian that kept her faith alive. And Tony, of course. They were men who werent afraid to be honest and live in the real world, no matter how fearful it could be. They had their flaws of course Tony was aggravating in his caustic opinions and constant degradation of all things unTony. And Brians sense of humor often crossed into the Highly Offensive. But they carried with them something true, something untired. Something that probably wanted to emerge from everyone, but very often didnt make it out.
YveWasFramd: Are you still in Kansas City?
But when she clicked on the send button, the screen froze. She grit her teeth and cursed under her breath. This happened every time. Every goddamned time. Her friend Simon had come over to look at it once, and it worked okay a couple of times after that, but then went right back to screwing up. Sometimes she wondered if it was worth the effort.
Instead of beating her head against the wall, she just turned the whole thing off. Brian would understand, she thought. It had happened enough times before. Usually she went online again to explain, but she didnt want to bother with it. She went into the kitchen and put on some coffee, and turned on the radio.
As the thick generic-brand vapors mixed with the news and filled the air, she hopped up on the counter and put her head against the cupboard. She wouldnt check the voicemail. She wouldnt check the voicemail. She wouldnt check the voicemail. She had only been online for fifteen minutes, tops. He couldnt possibly have called. With a sigh and a smile, she hopped off the counter, walked to the phone, and picked it up. The dialtone was long and boring. There were no choppy beeps to indicate a message. She nodded and replaced the receiver. Then she cocked her head to one side and blinked quickly.
She picked up the phone and dialed.
Hi, Andrea. Its Yvonne.
Hi, Andrea said. How you doing?
Not bad. You on the graveyard shift?
Nah, she replied. I get off at midnight.
Good. Listen, could you put me through to room 429?
Sure, Andrea said. Who do you know in 429?
Just a guy who checked in yesterday. Hes on a business trip.
Uh oh, Andrea said. Dont be foolin with those salesmen. Theyre all married, girl.
Not this one.
Is he cute?
Yeah, kinda. Seemed nice.
Lucky you.
Well, maybe.
Hold on, Ill ring him for you.
She waited, realizing that she wasnt often on the music end of the hold button.
Yve, Andrea said finally.
Yeah.
Hes on the other line. You wanna leave him a message to call you?
Sure, why not?
Okay. Ill let him know.
Thanks, Andrea.
You bet. Nite.
Gnight.
She hung up and poured the coffee. She creamed and sugared it and sat down on the couch, resting her eyes on the dimly-lit aquarium across the room. Among the three tiny goldfish shed bought several months ago swam the imposing form of Draco. Large and silver, he glided through the tank like he owned it. And the other fish paid him the proper respect. He never had to move out of their way.
Of all the things Tony had left, Draco was the one that Yvonne liked best. Having a living momento was, naturally, more tangible than books or shirts or letters, nice as those things were. Draco and Tony shared something, something which still lived in the fish. She loved to sit and watch him move around.
After a short time lost in idle observation, the phone rang. She put her mug down on the table before her and reached over to grab the receiver.
Hello?
Hello, Yvonne?
Hi, Warren.
How are you?
Im okay. How are you?
He sighed, a sigh that told of fatigue and worry, but disguised to transmit only fatigue. Okay, I guess. Did you want to do something tonight? Maybe have dinner or something?
Yeah, that sounds good, she said. You sound a little tired.
I am, he admitted. But Id really like to see you again.
Well, what about just eating something here? Maybe we could watch a movie or something.
Sure, that sounds good. Do you want me to get something, or order a pizza? Or get take-out?
Pizza is good, she said. Lemme tell you how to get to my place.
Two hours later, they watched the end credits crawl across the screen. Yvonne wiped her eyes, trying not to make the movies impact on her quite so obvious. Shed seen it half a dozen times, and it always made her cry. But they were good tears she wasnt really sad, so much as she was moved. They werent tears of joy or sadness, just of emotion. Of passion, in the old sense of the word.
The soft end theme music lilted over the hum of the aquarium filter and they both sat watching the screen in the dark post-cinema quiet, wherein each person waits for the other to say something.
Wow, he said finally. Thats a really good movie.
Isnt it? she said. Its the first movie I ever bought when we got a VCR.
Hmm, he said, sitting back and putting his hands on his head. I dont know if I can remember the first movie I ever bought. I think it was probably Indiana Jones.
She smiled. Sort of exactly what she would have expected. She was probably just fooling herself, but in the dark he even kind of looked like Harrison Ford. She leaned over and looked at his eyes. He gazed back at her, and moved his hands across the back of the couch, to touch her shoulder. He blinked and looked away, just for a second.
What? she asked.
Nothing, he said, and kissed her.
It wasnt the kiss shed been hoping for. Shed imagined that after such a long recess, her first kiss back in the ring would knock her off her feet, send her floating on air. But it was just a kiss. Because she had expected so much more, it felt like a really bad kiss. She pulled away, and he relented. But then she immediately wondered what she was doing, smiled at him, and kissed him again, her mind set on not expecting fireworks. And the second kiss was very nice. She concentrated on the sensation alone, and it was very nice indeed. She ran her hand along his arm, moved her legs back along the sofa so she nestled against him. This time neither of them withdrew; it just ended after a little while.
She realized she was smiling. Would you give me a foot massage? she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. We can start there, he said.
An hour later, they lay in her bed, naked under the blue-and-white sheet. His arm was under her neck, her head cradled against his. She let out a contented sigh. It had not been the greatest sex in the world, but it was enjoyable. A pleasant relief from the long spell of isolation.
She began to think of how he felt. Was this just some meaningless fling, or did he plan to follow up with more visits and phone calls? How often would he be coming out this way? What did she mean to him? And as she thought about it, she wondered what he meant to her. How would she feel if it was, in fact, just a meaningless fling? Guys could have them; why not women too? Shed had a good time tonight what was keeping her from letting it go at that? She looked over at him, his face calm, as if thinking.
So why did you move to Houston? Warren asked.
She blinked a couple of times, realigning her train of thought. Well, Tony got a job here with an ad firm, and I decided this was as good a place as any to go to school. So it seemed like the thing to do.
And how long were you married?
Eight years, she said quietly. For some reason, saying it out loud was always painful. Have you ever been married?
He sighed, and she froze. That was not a good sign. She closed her eyes and prayed to God that he would tell her that he had been married once, but they got a divorce or she died.
Then, after several seconds of silence, she said What?
I think Id better tell you the truth, he said. Im actually in the process of getting a divorce.
She sat up. I knew it.
Look, he said. Dont get so upset about it. Were not even living together. Its all over but the paperwork.
She looked back at him, his face contorted with frustration, but not completely his own. Why didnt you tell me before?
He sighed again. She was beginning to hate the sound. Suddenly she was reminded of how Tony would sigh when he had to explain something that he figured was immediately obvious. It was a similar situation she found herself in now, and she hated it just as much. Because I didnt think youd ever want to see me again, he said. I wanted to make sure I could still see you while I was in town.
Oh, and now that youre leaving town, it doesnt matter? She threw the sheet aside and grabbed her shirt from off the floor and put it on.
No, please, Yvonne, you have to understand. I didnt mean to hurt you. I didnt think it was that big of a deal. Its not that big of a deal. We just havent finished the procedure. Weve even agreed to see other people. She sensed that he was stretching the truth.
She got dressed, went into the living room, and sat down on the couch. The room was dark except for the glow of the aquarium. Soon after, Warren came walking in wearing only his boxer shorts. He was in good shape, she noticed in the semi-darkness. She tried not to think about that while he approached. He sat down beside her and put a hand on her arm. Not forcefully, not to keep it from moving. He barely touched her skin.
I just wanted to have it all out there, he said. I was scared that it would scare you, and it looks like I was right. But would you rather I kept it a secret?
For a minute she thought about how that might have been preferable. Because then she wouldnt have even known. Because then, when she did find out, it would have been his fault for keeping it from him. Because then it would have been easier to write the whole thing off as a rebound fling. Now, if they decided to move ahead, it was going to be something else.
Her face was sad, but she smiled at him. Thank you for telling the truth, she said, as honestly as she could. He smiled back, weakly. She got the sense that he genuinely wished things were different. But she also got the sense that the topic made him very tense. Part of it was a reaction to her reaction, but there was more to it. As if he wasnt handling the whole thing very well. As if it were illustrating things to him about himself that he didnt really want to see or know. Well, she said, as long as were telling each other secrets, Ive got one for you.
He paused, then leaned closer to her and rubbed her shoulder. Good, he said. I want to know the truth about everything. Tell me.
She looked into his eyes, grey with a trace of blue. They were set back in his face, as if resistant to several severe blows of life. She wondered what caused the stern but occasionally yielding look in them. Did he really mean that? Did he really want to know the truth? As soon as she asked herself, she realized it was too late not to tell him. Tony died of AIDS, she said.
He nodded, then stopped. What? he said. He took his hand away. AIDS? Really? His face grew solid. Are you serious? Oh my God! He stood up, and looked down at his crotch. Jesus, Yvonne He looked up at her with a look on his face as if he had just swallowed rotten milk. What the . . . why didnt you tell me?
The hurt was eclipsed by the sadness. Why do you think? she mumbled, starting to cry.
Oh, God, he said again, slowly sinking into the chair across the room, which he had backed his way into as she wiped her nose. But do you . . . I mean, did he
She looked up, tossed her hair back, met his eyes with rage. Ive tested positive four times, she said. You dont have to worry.
Yeah, but it could still
She shook her head in amazement. Thanks for your compassion, she said. I should have expected as much.
Yvonne, look. Its not that I have anything against people with AIDS. I just wish Id known so I could have been prepared or something.
Prepared for what? We used protection.
No, I mean mentally prepared. Thats a hell of a thing to tell someone afterward!
Yeah, like telling the person youre married.
He threw his hands up. Not that again, he said.
You know, youre the one who brought it up in the first place, she said. You asked about me and Tony. So dont act surprised when the conversation comes back your way.
How did he get it? Was it a blood transfusion?
She stopped and stared at him. What a question. What an evasion. How rude. No, she said. He got it by having sex. Like a lot of people.
While you were married?
No, before.
Was it another guy? Was he gay?
She rolled her eyes. Was it possible for him to ask in a more insensitive way? Tony was bisexual, she said. He stopped seeing guys when we got married.
So it was another guy! he cried out.
What does it matter how he got it? she demanded, using her anger to hold back tears.
It just does, he said. How can it not? I cant believe you were married to a gay man.
He wasnt She exhaled and dropped her shoulders. It wasnt worth it. But she wanted to make him feel as bad as she felt right now. She looked up. So whats your wifes name? she asked.
Cheryl, he said quickly. Did Tony ever
How long have you been married? she asked, pleased to see how tense it made him.
Look, he said sharply, for all intents and purposes, the marriage is dead. Lets just drop it.