“Isn’t everyone?” she said. “Ninety-sixth Street is practically my home away from home.”
“Is that where he’s located?”
“That’s where everybody’s shrink is located. Ninety-sixth, between Madison and Park.”
“His name wouldn’t be Frank Lipscombe, would it?”
“No. Who’s Frank Lipscombe?”
“An analyst I know.”
“There must be ten thousand shrinks in New York, maybe on Ninety-sixth alone. Why would my shrink be Frank whatever-his-name-is.”
“Lipscombe.”
“No,” she said, and ground her cigarette out in the sand, and sipped at the Scotch again.
“How long have you been seeing him?” he asked.
“Too damn long.”
“How long is that?”
“Since I met Harrison.”
“And when was that?”
“April.”
“That’s not so long ago.”
“It’s pretty damn long when you’re twenty-five and he’s seventy-three. How old are you?”
“Forty-two. Well, wait, I just turned forty-three.”
“Eighteen years older than I am.”
“More or less.”
“No, not more or less. Eighteen years is what it is. Which I suppose is an improvement,” she said, and shrugged. “How tall are you?”
“Six two. And you?”
“Five ten.”
“That’s big.”
“Yes, I’m a big girl. Tall, anyway. As for mature...” She shook her head. “Mandelbaum says I’ve got to grow up one day.”
“Mandelbaum?”
“My shrink. He thinks I’m immature, and a little bit crazy besides.”
Suddenly, without realizing he was about to do it, he kissed her. The kiss was brief, it took her as much by surprise as it did him. She looked into his face.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, forgive me.”
“No, that’s all right.”
“Really, I’m sorry.”
She turned away from him and looked out over the sea. They were silent for several moments. Then she said, “Do you do this all the time?”
“No. As a matter of fact...” He shook his head.
“Yes, what?”
“Never.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m sorry. Really. I am.”
“Never, huh? How long have you been married?”
“Eighteen years.”
“And never been tempted.”
“Tempted, yes.”
“You sound like Jesus in the wilderness.”
“Not quite.”
“Sorely tempted, but never compromised. Until tonight. Must be my ripe young bod, huh?”
“Joanna... I’m sorry. I mean it. Would you like to...?”
“Stop being so sorry. It was kind of nice, as a matter of fact. Sort of. Would I like to what?”
“Go back up to the house.”
“No. Why? Would you?”
“Not particularly.”
“Neither would I.” She looked out over the sea again. “I thought you were a jerk, you know. When you said you liked my top. A middle-aged jerk talking euphemistically about my breasts. Well, I do have good breasts, I suppose,” she said, and glanced idly down at them. “How’d we get on my breasts, anyway? Maybe we’d better go inside.”
“If you like.”
“Because I hate rushing things, and I get the feeling we’re rushing at a headlong pace.” She shook her head. “I barely said goodbye to Harrison thirty seconds ago. Are you happily married?”
“Yes.”
“Then why’d you kiss me?”
“I guess I wanted to.”
“Do you still want to.”
“Yes.”
“Then kiss me,” she said.
He kissed her. The kiss was longer this time. Their lips lingered. When she drew away from him at last, she said, “But that’s enough. I’ve got to be out of my mind. Wait’ll Mandelbaum hears this, he’ll take a fit.”
“Why do you have to tell him?”
“It’s costing me fifty dollars an hour, I suppose I ought to tell him, don’t you? I mean instead of just lying on his couch and looking up at the ceiling. Though he does have a marvelous ceiling. One of those old tin things with curlicues all over it. I can just see Monday. Hey, guess what, doctor? I broke off with Harrison and ten minutes later I was kissing a married stranger on the beach. I’ve got to be crazy.”
He looked at her, studying her face, his eyes accustomed to the semidarkness now, seeing again the freckles he had noticed in the bedroom upstairs, a light dusting on the bridge of her nose and on only one cheek, the high cheekbones and generous mouth—
“Does it meet with your approval?” she asked.
“Yes, it does.”
“Nose and all?”
“Especially the nose,” he said, and smiled.
“Oh, sure. I hate my nose. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of getting it bobbed.”
“Don’t.”
“Just here,” she said, and brought her hand up, exerting the smallest amount of pressure with her forefinger, lifting the tip.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are,” he said.
“Well... thank you,” she said, and dropped her hand into her lap again, and looked away shyly.
“Very beautiful,” he whispered.
“Thank you.” She hesitated and then said, “I find you very attractive, too. But that’s just me, I guess. I mean, the older-man thing. And married, of course,” she said, and rolled her eyes.
“I guess you’ve discussed all this with...”
“Oh, sure.”
“What does he think?”
“He thinks my liaisons, his word, are quote dangerous unquote. Do you know you’re staring at me?”
“Yes.”
“Must be the gorgeous nose.”
“Must be.”
“If you didn’t have a wife inside there... you do have a wife inside there, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Worse luck, I thought you might have left her home for the weekend. What does she look like?”
“Blond, green eyes, good figure.”
“Oh, yes. Pretty.”
“If I didn’t have a wife inside there...” he prompted.
“I’d disgrace myself in the eyes of God and Mandelbaum,” she said, and hesitated. “Do you work in the city?”
“Sometimes.”
“How often do you come in? God,” she said, “I sound like an advertising executive on the make!”
“Once a week, sometimes more often.”
“Would you like to call me? I’m in the book, J. Berkowitz on East Sixty-fifth.”
“Would you like me to call you?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“Call me,” she said.
The rain had tapered off, and they stood outside the tent — Judd and Lissie — looking out over the festival site and the myriad small fires that had been started on the sodden ground, glowing against the blackness of the night like blazing galaxies in a distant sky. From where they stood, the ground sloped gently away and they could see across the entire site, could hear the gentle strumming of guitars, the sound of floating laughter, and behind them the patter of leaves dripping raindrops on the forest floor.
“I’ll never forget this as long as I live,” Judd said.
“Neither will I,” Lissie said.
“Want to take a walk down there?”
“Sure.”
He lifted the flap of the tent and said, “We’re going for a walk, anybody want to come?”
“I’m totaled,” Suzie said.
“How about you, Rusty?”
“She’s already asleep.”
“Okay, see you later,” Judd said.
They went down the slope and onto the muddier ground. They were both barefoot, their jeans rolled to their shins. Lissie was wearing a B.U. sweatshirt Suzie had loaned her; Judd had changed from his T-shirt to a plaid flannel shirt as protection against the cool night air.