Somehow he me out of it-out of depending on the booze.” “Must have had its moments, especially seeing him drink like a She looked straight at me, her face fresh and open. “That was one of the amazing things about it, though. He got me to focus enough on me that it didn’t matter that he drank. He did that for his reasons, and they had nothing to do with me. At least that’s how I ended up seeing it. I guess at first that bothered me some. But he’s a wonderful man. Not everyone seems to know that.” A small pause grew. I was worried it might present a pretense for ending the conversation.
“So you have family here.” “Oh, sure. I’m a local girl, well, kind of-from East Haven. My husband’s family is from here, though.” “Was that who picked you up this morning?” “Yeah. Tommy.” Her tone was not endearing. “Problems?” It was none of my business, but professional habits are hard to break.
“Well… I don’t know. He’s a nice man. It’s just… Maybe I’m not cut out for marriage. Buster makes it sound good when he talks about his wife… or when he talks about yours, too.” That came as a shock.
Ellen, my wife, had been dead almost twenty years, after a long, painful fight with cancer at an unfairly young age.
To have this sudden reference to her from someone I barely knew, especially in the context of marital relations, was a little disconcerting.
I guess it showed. Laura quickly put her hand on my arm. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I put my hand on hers. “No, that’s all right. I forgot you know all about me. You shouldn’t give too much credit to the ramblings of old widowers, you know. No one can compete with the dead, and there’s usually no saint quite as holy as a departed mate. It’s probably compensation for all the fights you had when she was alive. I don’t know… the older I get, the more I question the sanity of any marriage.” She smiled wanly. “I can believe that. I might as well live alone. I hardly even get laid anymore.” I burst out laughing at her bluntness. “God, now that I don’t understand.” She stared up at me then, and I felt my face turn crimson. “You’re blushing.” I laughed again, feeling thoroughly embarrassed now. “I mean, you’re very attractive.” I felt suddenly hot. I also felt like a total jerk.
She reached up and put her cool palm against my cheek. “It’s sweet. Thank you.” She folded her arms across her chest and sighed.
“It’s my own fault. I could do something about it. We don’t have any kids. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m stuck; have been for years.”
“What does your husband do?” I asked, happy to change the ubject.
“He works nights in St. J. at a lumber company. When he gets ome, I’m getting ready to go to work; when I get home, it’s his turn to head out. We could probably share a twin bed and never bump into ach other.”
“I could see where that wouldn’t do much for a relationship.” “I guess.”
She paused. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I smiled but kept quiet.
“I didn’t embarrass you again, did I? I’m sorry. “No, no, not at all. Yes, I have a girlfriend; I just never thought f her in that light. I’m surprised you didn’t already know about her. he scrapbook must get thin at the end.” “What’s her name?” “Gail.” It felt awkward saying her name here. With all the recent xcitement, I hadn’t paused to think about the primary reason I was p here-to ponder just where Gail and I were headed.
“And?” “She’s a realtor in Brattleboro.” “Is she pretty?” “I think so.” I was distracted, suddenly wondering just what it was that had caused things to cool between Gail and me. “Skinny?” “Pretty thin, yeah. Why do you ask?” “I just thought she would be. Skinnier than me, I bet.” She slid off the car and opened her coat. I looked at her, again startled by her spontaneity. She was, in fact, remarkably attractive in a close-fitting sweater and the perennialjeans”full-bodied,” as the ads say, but with a flat stomach and nicely rounded hips. I found myself thinking old Tommy must be out of his mind.
“Very nice.” She looked down at herself. “That’s it?” I could feel my cheeks flushing again. “You like doing this to me.” She grinned and swiveled her hips.
I leaned over, took her hands and brought them together, closing her coat. “You know damn well what I think.” Like a burst bubble, her mood darkened. She hugged the coat about her and stared at the ground.
The suddenness threw me off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She shook her head. “You didn’t. Just the opposite.
You’re one of the nicest men I’ve met.” Her voice lifted, regaining an artificial brightness. “So, do you love Gail a lot?” Her frailty was infectious, and her ability to turn the tables uncanny. I found myself suddenly quite at a loss for words.
She gave me a sidelong glance and a sad smile. “You, too, huh?”
“No. It’s different. Well, for one, we’re not married. We don’t even live together.” “Oh.” A silence grew between us. I looked up at the stars. What a surprising conversation to be having, especially with a woman I’d only known for a day. Not to mention the fact that she was half my age. But I felt I owed her as much honesty as she’d shared with me. “Gail and I are a little like seesaw riders trying to stay level with each other.
It only works if we’re both at the same emotional height, and at opposite ends of the board.” “I never would have thought of a relationship that way. I thought about it for a bit. “It’s accurate, though. And right now we’re off balance.” “Seriously?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think that’s one of the reasons I’m up here.” “So what’re you going to do?” “Damned if I know. Try to work it out when I get back to Brattleboro.” Another pause. “And what do I do?” I didn’t answer at first, confused by the way she’d phrased the question. “I don’t know that I’m the one to ask.” I thought for a moment. “Talk to him, maybe change your schedules, look in the mirror and decide what you want from each other. It’s very hard. I can only tell you the answers don’t get any easier the older you get.” She nodded and slowly straightened up, her hands in her pockets. “Thanks, Joe.” She reached up and kissed me on the cheek. Then she walked down the sidewalk to her car, got in, and drove away with a small wave of her hand. I waved back and watched her taillights. Maybe it was the empty feeling she’d left behind, or the uncomfortable yearnings she’d aroused in me, but in that moment of Laura’s departure, I don’t think I’d ever missed Gail more.
I paused in front of the burned house, still contained by the thin, ging yellow Police Line, anemically reflecting the rising sun. This worked the start of the hunt, the point where seemingly random vioce yields to the search for an explanation. I wanted to begin that rch with the real owner of this house, Edward Sarris, and I wanted begin it early, before a scheduled morning meeting between Potter the State Police investigators.
It was a warm morning, or at least warm for November in Vernt. The earth, just twenty-four hours ago crystalized with ice, was w softened and muddy. The tracks of dozens of heavy trucks had lost ir definition as if, slowly, they too were melting. I walked north up Atlantic Boulevard. There still wasn’t much ivity; sunrise had been but twenty minutes before. I’d been told all houses at this end belonged to the Order, something I could easily ve guessed. For one thing, there were no electrical wires running to y of them. They were all peculiarly blotchy in appearance, as if, after aping, they’d been repainted with a wash. None of the lawns were wed. Indeed, seen from a low enough angle, especially from the dirt d, the houses looked like museum-quality prairie homes, originally les apart, which had been gathered together in one overgrown field anthropological preservation.