“For either of us.”
“Thank you, dear. It’s a sweet lie, but I appreciate it anyway. Anyhow, after trying to sell myself on how bright I was, I got down to the real truth of the thing. Terror. The fear of sin. You see, I’m really the worst kind of cheat.”
“I don’t think so.”
“The modrun woman! Johnny, I’m up to here Victorian. I guess I’ve got to have all the licenses and permits. But, Johnny, where where did all the men go? Did the girls like Frances get them all?”
“There’s some around.”
The waiter looked into the booth. He signaled for another round.
“But I’m twenty-nine years old, Johnny, and when do I stop playing kid games with grown-up people like you?” Tears grew on the black thickets of lashes and rolled free. She dabbed them away.
“Maybe the next won’t be a game.”
“Comfort me, dearie, with brave words. Sure. But what scares me now is, maybe, despair. You know, I get assigned to some other account and there is another Johnny Powell, and maybe he’s only half what you are, but I have to set up all the trite misery for myself, go the dreary route with him because I have to sell myself at least one dream, because the clock ticks on. Maybe just as trite as what could have happened to us. I work for you. I’m a city girl. And you have that big glowing country wife and those dear darling glowing kiddies. Do you mind if I hate Frances a little?”
“Go ahead.”
“She’s so invulnerable. Why do they always have to look like Doris Day? Ah, that shining meaty smile, and knowing the PTA song. Oh God, Johnny, I sound so cheap and nasty, and it’s all pure envy. I’ve got a kid sister, up to her hips in babies, up to her armpits in suds, and I hate her sometimes, too. I’m Aunt Tina, career girl. You and Frances are good people, and I’m glad I didn’t get any further into your lives. But sometimes I can feel so...”
She covered her face and sat hunched, weeping silently. The drinks came. He saw a man in another booth staring at them. What could it look like? The end of the affair. But what was it when there’d been no affair? He felt tender toward Tina. He sensed it would be best to let her work herself out of tears. Gentle words might make it worse for her. He was aware of the city night around them, murmurous, full of mouths and lights and motors, with dark rooms and dark places in the heart and ten thousand simultaneous scenes, and he wondered how many of the scenes had dialogue interchangeable with this one. If everyone were masked, perhaps all the words would be alike.
She recovered and was shy. Her eyes looked torn, and she took small nibbles of her drink.
“Self-pity in the third degree,” she said. “Another of my noble traits.”
“There’s more in the inventory. Pride, spirit, decency, sensitivity.”
She smiled at him. “I’ll do what has to be done, sir. You don’t have to buy me with flattery. But it’s the mechanics of it I don’t quite see. Isn’t it going to look sort of strange and hollow to her, no matter how I do it?”
“It makes me feel sick, Tina, to even ask you to do it. But you have to know more about the marriage. You’ve got the right to know more. The kind of a job I have, there has to be trust. So many trips, so many late nights. A woman should feel loved and secure. Maybe Fran needs that security more than most. I don’t know. Maybe because of her folks splitting up when she was small. God knows I haven’t been a rovin’ man. I don’t need that kind of trouble. You and I, we’ve been as close as I want to come. And you see, Tina, I haven’t reacted the way I should because I have been conscious of this being a kind of infidelity. Do you understand?”
“Of course.”
“We’d been at the club, and in the middle of the evening she turned all strange and remote, and I didn’t know what was up. But I did feel guilt — on account of you — even though I knew we were going to stay, what would you call it, pristine. We went home early. She’d danced with Hal Ward. He was tight. He was trying to make a pass. So he figured, I guess, to smooth the way by giving her the old get-even-with-Johnny motivation.”
“Hal doesn’t know a damned thing about us!”
“That’s what I would have said, but apparently he saw us somewhere and he couldn’t figure any other reason for us being there, and maybe we looked furtive or something. We didn’t see him, but he saw us.”
“He’s a wretched man!”
“At least he didn’t hand her your name. Maybe he was showing restraint. Or maybe he didn’t recognize you — just saw me with a female who wasn’t Fran.”
“With a friend like Hal, who needs enemies?”
“I know. And when we got home early from the club, it could have been settled very quickly and easily. But as soon as I found out what it was all about, I became full of indignation and outrage. They say you get the biggest reaction from an unjust accusation. I’d say the reaction is bigger when there is just a tiny germ of truth in the accusation, just a little stink of guilt. So instead of trying to help her, I got proud as all hell. I wouldn’t even discuss it. I wouldn’t deny it or confess it, so naturally she took my attitude as a confession. The best thing I could have done would have been laugh. But that’s the sort of thing you remember too late. After a week, when I finally woke up and saw what I was doing to her because I happened to feel abused, I made the complete denial I should have made in the first place.”
“A little too late.”
“Yes, indeed. And I could hear myself hitting false notes — because of the guilt and because it was a little too late. My God, I even sounded as if I were the chicken husband making the usual trite lie. She pretended to accept it. Maybe she believes me with ninety percent of her, but the other ten is dubious, and it’s a little wedge sticking into a sort of dangerous potential fracture-line in our marriage. Every trip, every night I have to stay in the city is like giving that wedge a little tap. Staying in town tonight is another little tap. No matter what you think of her, she’s never really had enough confidence.”
“But... what if I sound as hollow as you did? I’ve got this guilt-for-no-good-reason, too, you know. And won’t I just be sort of a... solid fact instead of a vague suspicion?”
“With a sixth sense or something she’s narrowed it down to you anyway.”
“What? How do you know?”
“The name came up during the last quarrel. When you were assigned to the account, I used to mention you. I’ve always talked shop at home. She’s always been interested. For the last couple of months I’ve still talked shop, but I never mentioned your name. That was pretty stupid, I know. But again it was the product of guilt, I guess, and it was subconscious.”
“Oh boy.”
“Oh boy, indeed.”
“There’s that scene in the movies where the other woman calls on the wife and begs her to let him go. And then there’s the scene where the wife calls on the other woman and tells her to get out of Walter’s life. But how do you do this scene? I’ve never seen it played.”
“I don’t know how you can do it. But, you see, I know both of you. I know you both well enough to know you’ll like each other.”
“She’ll adore me!”
“You’ll have to say you’re doing it without my knowledge. You’ll have to say that I made some bitter and cryptic remark to you and you pried the rest of the story out of me. You’ll have to tell her that you’ve been attracted to me.”