The shower suddenly stopped and in a few moments Linda came out of the bathroom wrapped up in a large terry cloth robe and rubbing her head with a towel. O.K., its all yours. You know, I think one of the best things about the beach is the shower when you get home.
Harry laughed along with her. Well, I guess thats one way of looking at it.
When he got out of the shower, all crisp, clean and cool, Linda was busy in the kitchen chopping, mixing and tossing. You know, youre right, that is the best part of a day at the beach. He went into the kitchen and watched Linda work for a moment. Man, you move around like you really know what youre doing.
I do, wrinkling her nose at him, then laughing, and I love it too. I think I was born to it. It really turns me on, to quote an industrious young man I know.
With a memory like that I/ll have to watch what I say. Anything I can do to help?
No, not really. Unless you/d like to have wine with dinner.
Sure, why not? How about a little Blue Nun?
No, I dont think so, a serious expression on her face, I thought we/d eat alone. Her face widened into a big smile, and Harry laughed.
Be careful, it can get to be a habit. They chuckled, and Harry asked her if she preferred any particular wine?
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No. I really dont know one from another. What I usually buy is the ninety-seven-cent imported Bordeaux. It seems to be pretty good.
O.K., one imported and expensive wine coming up. Red or white?
Red. Its much prettier.
I dont think that thats how they figure it, smiling and enjoying watching her moving around the kitchen, but if you say so, its red.
When Harry looked at the table before sitting down, he had the feeling that it was magic. The whole thing. Magic. There were a couple of candles, a large salad bowl and two small ones, plates, silverware, napkins, an old wooden table, nothing unusual or exceptional, yet together Linda somehow made it seem so special. It was special.
This is incredible. How/d you do it? It seems like you were only out there a short time.
O, its nothing. Any great chef could have done it.
I guess youre right, smiling, it really does turn you on, end quote.
Dinner was delicious and delightful. When they finished, Linda brought out a bowl of fruit and some cheese. I hope you like stinky cheese. I love it.
They continued to sit around the table, drinking coffee and talking. Harry hadnt thought about how he felt all day. He did not even know whether or not he had thought about anything. He enjoyed himself and just followed those feelings without question. As a matter of fact, he could not remember, if he had bothered trying, when he had had a better time in his life. Not since he was a child had he been so relaxed. Part of the reason he had such an enjoyable day was that he was unaware of any of this.
But then he did become aware, slowly, of some sort of disquieting feeling within him. He felt ill at ease for no reason at all. The evening was continuing to go the way the rest of the day had gone and they were talking and laughing, but now he felt a vague tugging inside that was fighting against the
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momentum of the day, fighting to change the direction of what was happening. He became aware that what he was doing was unnatural for him. He had no business just sitting and joking like this with some broad. This was crazy. He had never done this in his life. There was something else that he should be doing, but right now he wasnt sure what that was. It was wacky. He could feel that he knew what it was he was supposed to do, that he should just simply do it, but at the same time he could not figure out what it was—or why—or even what all this was that was going on inside him. He was just becoming more and more confused by this conflict, and his confusion confused him even more.
And to add to all the confusion was the fact that he felt good being with Linda, just talking and joking and drinking coffee and nibbling on a piece of cheese. Smelly cheese. And she excited him and he wanted to reach over and touch her hand, but he couldnt seem to do it. Jesus, why should that be such a big deal? Why was he getting tight in his gut and feeling like something was going to happen? He started to become involved with that strange feeling and the fact that he could not reach over and hold her hand. And why should he want to hold her hand anyway? That was kid stuff, for krists sake. He somehow had lost control of the play. It never went like this. But how did it go? He couldnt seem to remember. Or did he? He could somehow sense how it should be going, but he seemed to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it go in the wrong direction. He almost felt like standing up and yelling, Hey, theres something wrong here. This is not the way. But he just sat and talked and joked and laughed and had the best time of his life as he fought the demon that was welling up inside him, growing and growling, and causing his inner eye to blink with dismay and confusion.
He got up and went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and frowned at his reflection—or did his reflection frown at him?—and tilted his head this way and that and spread his mouth in a smile, then shook his head and chuckled softly, youre crazy, you son of a bitch. Youre out of your
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head. He looked back and forth at himself for another moment, then shrugged and left the bathroom.
He stood behind Linda for a moment, then put his arms on her shoulders and kissed her on the neck, and let his hands slowly slide down her arms. She seemed to lean into his kiss slightly, and as he continued to kiss her neck he became self-conscious and watched himself as if he were playing some sort of a movie role—or rather imitating some actor in a love scene. He felt stiff, awkward and unnatural, but forced himself to continue to kiss her neck and to glide his hands over her breasts. She very gently but firmly moved his hands away. He continued to breathe heavily down her neck, trying to work up more enthusiasm for what he was doing, and at the same time criticizing himself for such a bad performance. But he could not stop.
Lets go to bed.
Linda chuckled gently and turned and looked up at him with amusement. One minute youre laughing about Abbott and Costello Meet the Wolfman, and the next you want to go to bed.
Well, whats so strange about wanting to go to bed with a beautiful woman, forcing himself to try and kiss her again, but she gently rebuffed him and he sat down.
Nothing. Its just the timing that seems so strange. And funny.
He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but still feeling awkward and self-conscious. I didnt know there was any special time.
Well there is, still smiling gently, the right time.
I always thought any time was the right time.
Perhaps for you, but not for me. And it does take two to make a couple.
Harry shrugged and tried hard to swallow the demon out of existence, but he couldnt. He didnt know what had happened and how they got to be sitting here suddenly talking like this, but he could not seem to stop himself from doing what he was doing, and he didnt know what else to do or say. Something
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was out of hand. It seemed like the only thing he could do was to sit here and listen to himself, and watch himself, and feel so goddamn twisted and weird inside that he did not know what the hell to do.
Im sorry if I bugged you—
You didnt bug me, Harry, still smiling gently—
but I didnt know you were saving it.
Linda tilted her head to one side and looked at Harry for a moment, then shook her head. Im surprised. Im really surprised, Harry.
Why? What did you think I was, some sort of celibate monk, or something?
Well, to be perfectly frank, I hadnt thought of it at all. But if I had, I must confess I never would have thought you were so ... so—she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head—ah ... I dont know exactly how to say it—Harry stared at her as if just staring might change everything, change what had been said, what was happening, and most important of all, change what Linda was about to say because he could feel in his bones that it was going to rip through him like a
jagged piece of ice—well, I guess what I mean is that I never thought you would be so high schoolish.
Maybe youre the one who is high schoolish. Maybe youre the one—
Harry, the smile gone from her face and looking him in the eye, almost looking through him, twisting things around isnt going to change anything. And I really dont see why youre making such a big thing out of nothing. Is your ego so fragile that you cant take a no without becoming hostile?
Who in the hell is hostile? Just because you want to sit on it and try to hatch it sure as hell doesnt make me hostile.
Linda looked at him, no longer surprised, but annoyed and extremely disappointed. Im going to tell you something, Harry—Harry could feel himself cringing inside and wanted just to get up and go, or disappear or change everything, and
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what the fuck is going on here anyway—not that I have to ... I certainly dont owe you an explanation for my behavior. It is certainly my prerogative to say yes or no to whomever I please. But I want you to know so you can get a few things straight in your head .. .and maybe I want to tell you because Im annoyed with your childishness. You dont have to tell me—
I know I dont. But I want you
to know that I am not sitting on anything, or saving anything, because theres nothing to save (Harry could feel himself getting warmer and warmer and he/d be a son of bitch if he wasnt blushing. Shit! SHIT!) and there are no hang-ups, no repressions, no deep, dark, ugly and sordid secrets being wrapped in a cloak of wishful virginity (Harry was fucked. Fucked! He couldnt protest. He couldnt move. He couldnt seem to do a thing but sit and listen), just a simple decision made by me, for me (if only she would yell or do something that would let him get angry so he could break this fucking inertia, but she didnt. She just looked him right in the eye and firmly said what she had to say without even raising her voice), a decision that came about not as a result of some ugly, dramatic or traumatic experience, but simply through an inner understanding of myself ... an inner need. And it has nothing to do with you, or anyone else as a matter of fact . . . just me. You know, Harry, Im not a teeny-bopper or some sort of liberated or frustrated female running amuck from bed to bed. Im simply a mature woman, and the next man I go to bed with is going to be my husband. My husband, smiling gently once again, not someone elses. And he will be my then husband, not my future husband. Im sorry I dont have a sordid tale of woe to tell you, Harry, Lindas smile was becoming more and more gentle, that we could mull over and analyze— Harry made a half-ass attempt at a shrug—but its just as simple as Ive said.
Harry looked at
her smile and could feel that his face was stiffly blank, and his head tumbled and twirled around inside, trying desperately to
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think of something to do, some twist of the mouth, a nod of the head, a gesture of hand or a shrug or a smile, and though the turbulence within him continued, he just sat looking at her smile. Then he fumbled his hand to his watch and tried— hoped—to affect a slight tone of surprise. Its late. I/d better get going.
Linda remained silent, swallowing her disappointment, and watched Harry leave. And though she was disappointed at the way the day had ended, she was relieved when the door closed behind him. The awkwardness and embarrassment, and the tension they created, increased so rapidly, especially as they sat there silently looking at each other, that it became almost tangible and unbearable.
Linda continued to sit
at the table and sighed softly, still a little shocked by the suddenness with which a lovely day had turned into something so —so sad. Yes, I guess thats the word. Its too bad. Its really too bad. She quickly reviewed what had happened and what she had said and had no regrets. None whatsoever. No matter how she looked at it, or her feelings for Harry, which were deep and tender, she would still say the same thing again. There are just some compromises that cannot be made without compromising the foundation of your life. She sighed again and picked up the coffee cups and put them in the sink.
She looked around, then dumped the ashtrays and put them in the sink too, then put out the light and went to bed. She lay awake for a short time thinking of Harry, fondly, though greatly disappointed in him this evening, but accepting what had happened and the fact that it was over and done with and no thing and no one could change it. And, accepting, too, that she would not change what she had said, even if she could, the disturbance within her dissipated and she drifted into sleep.
Jesus krist . . . Son of a bitch. All screwed up. The whole rats ass thing is screwed. Just cant figure the son of a bitch
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out. Sitting there laughing and all of a sudden wham, its up yours. How in the hell did I let some broad bullshit me like that? I must be nuts. I shouldve just split. Hey, who needs it baby? Save it for someone else. Im not buyin it. See you later. Can you imagine that broad trying to lay that garbage on me? Who does she think shes kiddin? Just a big smile, a laugh and split. Or just pick her up and take her to bed. Thats probably what she really wanted. Coming on with all that mature bullshit and just sitting there waiting for me to call her bluff. Why didnt I do it???? Screw it. Why give her the satisfaction. Let her eat her heart out. Harry entered the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and the sudden closing in, and the tile and the lights, got him remembering the distant past when he drove Linda through a tunnel and that son of a bitch Davis was bugging him, and he waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal and shoved all that out the window or behind him or some such place, any place, he didnt care, he just didnt want to be bothered with that now. . . . When he came back from the bathroom, he sat down and as he listened to Linda, he gently took one of her hands in both of his and looked up at her and smiled and then gently kissed her finger tips and slowly her voice trailed off and he got up from his chair and walked around the table, still holding her hand, and kissed her gently on the forehead and then the eyes and the mouth and he could hear her sigh, almost inaudibly, as she slowly stood and their bodies burned against each other and without a word he led her to the bedroom....
Yeah, what is this shit you dont want to go to bed? You got to be kidding. . . . When Harry got back from the bathroom, they turned on the television and watched Abbott and Costello Meet the Wolf man, and they ate some more of the smelly cheese as they laughed and made comments from time to time, sitting on the couch feeling her warmth and listening to that lovely laughter, finishing the wine, then drinking coffee. They just sort of relaxed and laughed the night into a new day.... And Harry started to feel vulnerable as he drove along the Gowanus Parkway, the parkway seeming to be so side-
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lessly wide and lonely this time of night with just an occasional car going by. What a rotten day. What a rotten, stinking day. Try to swim and some jerk knocks into you, and when you try to relax on the beach, some mentally retarded brats go running around kicking sand in your face. The little bastards. The mattress seemed hard and lumpy and he kept adjusting and readjusting himself, trying to find a comfortable spot in the bed. And the fucking sun will be up nice and early and shine right in my eyes. No point even in trying to get any sleep. Rotten son of a bitch. Screw it. Everything. The whole damn thing.
O Monday, rotten Monday! The subways, the heat, the humidity, the smell, the people. There ought to be a law against fat slobs riding the subway. . . . O, well, the hell with it. I just hope Rae doesnt bug me. I really dont need that. The whole office will probably know what happened Saturday night before I even get there. Should have known better than to take out a broad in the office. Too damn many yentas. Probably get the stares and the looks. Maybe Raes vacation started Friday. Eh, whats the difference. Let them talk. Big deal.
Fortunately for Harry he had a lot of work and was forced to concentrate on it rather than continually dwelling on Saturday night, constantly replaying the scene and rewriting the script, over and over again. The work was demanding and he stayed consciously involved with it, but yet there was a disquieting feeling within him. He was especially awar
e of this at lunch time as he strolled through the streets, his work no longer occupying his mind. At times the feeling would get stronger and he felt he almost knew what it was, as if he felt he should apologize, but he was sure that couldnt be true, so he just shrugged it away.
Gradually he became aware of the fact that he was following a broad whose ass, barely covered by a miniskirt, was winking and blinking at him. It was really a beautiful ass. Nice and
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round and firm and smooth. He just knew it was smooth and —he stopped suddenly and blinked and shook his head. Hey, what the hell is going on here? He looked at his watch. Damn! A couple of minutes late already. Goddamn it. He turned and rushed back to the office, getting back about five minutes late. When he sat at his desk, he found that he was out of breath. Five minutes was no big deal, but he had planned on getting back five minutes early. He sat quietly for a few minutes, then pushed everything out of his mind with his work.
The ride to work the following day was a little more comfortable. He was less apprehensive. No one had bothered him the day before. No one had said anything about Saturday night. Neither Louise nor Rae tossed any digs or had any cute remarks to make. And, thank God, he did not have to have any contact with Linda. That was the thing that really bugged him. Even now he flushed and squirmed slightly when he thought of confronting her. And it was ridiculous. Why in the hell should he feel embarrassed? He didnt do anything. Not a damn thing! There was no reason for him to apologize. There was no reason for him to get himself involved in that nonsense. Forget about it and concentrate on his job. He had a couple of problems on his desk that really turned him on, that really had him thinking. . . .
But maybe they
had lunch yesterday and she told them about Saturday night and today theyll be ready with their little zingers or looks. Balls. I really dont need that kind of action. I/ll just bury myself in my work and they wont bother me. I/ll just make sure I dont end up on the elevator with them, or let them trap me into going to lunch with them. Harry knew what he had to do, and though he resented having to go to the trouble of doing it just so some old broads wouldnt bug him, he would do it anyway.