"Do I have to?" Her chin came up. "What would you say if I suggested that we get ourselves a room here, and spend the afternoon making love?"
I tried not to smile. That explained the cheap motel, a place where she would not be known. "What would I say? I'd say that you're hurt, that you're angry, and that you don't really mean it." She stood up. "Wait here."
She walked out of the bar. She had a good walk. She was back by the time I had finished my beer. She tossed a room key on the table. "Well?" she asked.
Well, indeed. Part of me wanted her, the sticky plum was still in my throat, and another part of me knew that there was everything wrong with it. Forget that I was on the job; I had dallied on the job before. Forget that my case was her husband; he had nothing to do with the moment. Forget the time factor; I had plenty of time before the Queen sailed at five. Easy enough to forget all that, but what I could not forget was that this was a bird with a broken wing who was trying to fly in the face of a gale. I was a long way past bagging wounded birds, at least I thought I was, but the plum in my throat made me wonder. I stood up, and said, "Let's go."
The room was right on line for a sleaze moteclass="underline" a waterbed, a VCR with a stack of cassettes, a mended rip in the carpet, a stain the size of a watermelon on the wallpaper, and the same pervading odor of antiseptic. She walked around the room touching things. She ran a finger over a surface, and stared at it.
Without looking at me, she said, "It's pretty bad, isn't it?"
"I've seen worse. Do you want to leave?"
"No, it doesn't make any difference. Or does it?"
"Not to me, but are you sure you want to do this?"
"Of course I do. Just give me a minute.
She went into the bathroom. She wasn't gone long, and when she came back she was naked except for a towel she had wrapped around her. The towel didn't hide much. She gave me a bright smile, and said, "You still have your clothes on."
"I'm slow that way."
"That's all right, I want another drink, anyway. How about you?"
"I’ll pass."
"Please, let's have another drink. Could you order up something from the bar?"
"Not in a place like this. I'd have to go get it."
"Would you mind terribly?" She peered at the bruise on my face. "Did the police do that?"
"Yeah."
"Because of me."
"No, because cops do things like that. Some cops."
She leaned against me, and brushed the bruise with her lips. "Poor you."
I put my arms around her, and the towel dropped away. She smelled of violets. It was like holding a warm, soft statue, but it was still a statue. She put her hands at the back of my neck, and I kissed her. She held the kiss for a moment, then twisted away. She slipped out of my arms, and covered herself again with the towel. She sat on the edge of the bed, and looked down at her folded hands. I could not see her face.
"I'm sorry," she said in a tiny voice. "I wasn't-I wasn't ready."
I took her arm, and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, get dressed. We're leaving."
"No, wait." She pulled against me. "Where are we going?"
"Anyplace. Out of here."
She planted her feet. She wouldn't move. Her face was close to mine, and her eyes were wide. "You don't want me. Is that it?"
"That's stupid, you know what you look like. I'm flattered that you thought you wanted me, but you don't, and we're leaving."
"But I do. I mean… want you." She took a breath. "I came here to make love. That's what I want." She was suddenly in my arms again. She said quickly, "I know I'm doing this all wrong, but I'll be all right, really I will. I just need something to relax me. Please, get us a drink, and I'll be ready when you come back. I promise."
I didn't think much of her promise, and I didn't get us a drink. Another drink wasn't going to change anything. Instead, I did what I should have done earlier. I trampled the rose bed, I went into her head, and it was sad in there.
I saw a time, long ago, when all of her life had been love, and warmth, and friendship, and I saw how much that had changed. I saw a time of decision back then, saw the decision made, and saw how much she later regretted it. I saw a young love lost, and never regained, saw her daydreams of what might have been. I saw her as a girl who once had been adored, and I saw her as a woman who had forgotten her beauty. I saw the man of long ago, the man she turned away. I saw her need, and I saw that I could not supply it. She needed absolution for mistakes of the past, she needed to set back the clock. She needed me to tell her that birds with broken wings can fly, that everyone gets a second chance, and that it all works out in the end. She needed to dream of a different decision, and she needed me to help her with the dream. She needed me for a lot of things, but she didn't need me for a lover.
"Go home," I told her. The plum in my throat was still there, and I had to work to keep my voice steady. "Get dressed, and go home. There's nothing I can do for you."
I turned, and walked away from her. At the door, I looked back. She was staring at me, still clutching that towel. I left her standing there, and went to catch the Carnival Queen.
Nine hours later, I squared the deck for the last time that night, and collected two hundred and twenty dollars from the Kreiskes. I took the money into the Cockatoo Lounge, and spent some of it at the bar. While I was there, I followed Sammy's advice and kept my mind open, taking in the flow from the crowded room. Not completely open, I would have been swamped, but open enough to pick up streams of thought. It was, as usual, a sad business. Unless you do what I do, you have no idea what garbage runs through most people's minds.
… off-white with a skin like that makes her look like an oyster…
… Mary had a little lamb…
… right in the middle, I'm ready to come, and she asks me if I made the car payment…
… wedgies, already, she still thinks it's the fifties…
… Jesus, what an ass…
… to school one day it was against the…
… could have sold at 44, but he had to be greedy…
… can't help it if it hurts, can I help it if it hurts?…
… could bury my head in that all night…
… rules. Mary had a little…
… must have been the lobster at dinner…
… three seventy-five a gross less ten percent…
Satisfied, Sammy?
I lowered the volume. The second purser was at the bar, natty in uniform, drinking slowly. That was part of his job: to stand at the bar, show the uniform, answer questions, and drink slowly. I waited until he was ready, and bought him one.
"Cheers," he said, lifting his glass. "Saw you in the card room earlier. Any luck?"
That word again. "Can't complain."
"Absolutely amazing, you card players. Spend all this money on an eight-day cruise, and never leave the card room."
"I'm not as bad as that," I assured him. "I have other interests."
"Should hope so. Lots of things to see and do. You traveling alone?" I nodded. He looked at me owlishly. "Lots of things."
"Female things?"
"That's the word I was searching for."
"I thought you had mostly couples on board."
"Mostly, yes. We get about three-quarters couples and one-quarter singles. That still leaves several hundred bodies groping around in the dark."
"And the married ones?"
"More so than the singles, some of them. I don't know why it is, but you get people out beyond the three-mile limit and all the rules disappear. Especially with the regulars."
"Who are they?"
"The repeaters. On any given trip, at least one-third of the passenger list has been with us before. Some of them come back two or three times a year. There are people on board who know their way around this bucket of bolts better than I do."