“No I’m not.”
“Want to bet?” She opened her purse and faced its mirror in his direction. His own white teeth gleamed back at him.
“Well, I’ll be damned — I am grinning.”
“Uh huh.” Her eyes twinkled.
“And the funny thing is, I don’t know why.” It was a warm puzzling sensation, but a good one. “I mean, all of a sudden, I just feel — good. Do you know what I mean?”
He could tell that she did; her smile reflected his. He reached across the empty table and took her hand. The waitress had long since cleared the dishes away in a pointed attempt to hurry them. They hadn’t noticed.
All that remained was the wine and the glasses. And each other. Her hand was warmly soft in his, and her eyes were deeply luminous. She reflected his own bright glow.
Later, they walked hand in hand down the night-lit street. It was after one in the morning and the streetlamps were haloed in fog.
“I feel good,” he repeated. “You can’t believe how good I feel.”
“Yes, I can,” she said. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and snuggled close.
“I mean,” he said, then paused. He wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. “I mean, it’s like I want to scream. I want to tell the whole world how great I feel—” He could feel himself smiling again as he talked. “Oh, Christ, I wish I could share this with the whole world — it’s too big for one person. For two people,” he corrected himself.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She only cuddled closer. He was saying it for the both of them, and she liked to listen. Oh God, did she like to listen. It was all so — so big. The weight of his arm, the sound of his voice, that special sense of sharing—
Still later, as they lay in the darkness side by side, she cradled against one shoulder, he stared up at the ceiling and mused. For the first time in a long while he was relaxed.
“Have you ever been in love before?” she whispered into his neck.
He thought about it. “No,” he murmured back. “Not really. I’ve been infatuated a couple times, confused a few times, lost once, but never in love.”
Never like this…
She made a sound.
“And you?”
“A gentleman isn’t supposed to ask that kind of question.”
“And a lady isn’t supposed to go to bed with a man on the first date.”
“Oh? Is this our first date?”
“First official one.”
“Mm.” She was thoughtful. “Maybe I should have played hard to get. Maybe I should have waited till the second date.”
He laughed gently. “You know, a friend once told me that Jewish girls don’t go to bed till after they’re married.”
She was silent a moment.
Then, in a different tone of voice, “Not me. I’m too old to care about that any more.”
He didn’t answer. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t too old, that thirty-four was never too old, but the words wouldn’t form.
She went on before he could speak. She turned inward, began playing with the hair on his chest, but her voice remained serious. “I used to think I wasn’t very pretty, so I acted like I wasn’t. When men would ask me out, I used to think that they thought I would be an easy lay because I was desperate for attention, because I didn’t think I was good-looking. I mean, if I wasn’t pretty, that’s the only reason a guy would be asking me out. Do you know what I mean?”
He nodded. His face brushed against her hair.
She went on, tears on her cheeks, shiny wetness. She had never admitted this before. “I always used to compare myself with the models in the magazines, and they were all so pretty that I felt drab in comparison. I never stopped to think that maybe in real life I was still better looking than most women. I got interested in a career instead. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I was twenty-nine.”
“That’s not so old.”
“It is when you’re competing with twenty-two year olds. And, I figured that this was such a great big, dirty, hostile and uncaring world that you had to make your own happiness where you could. If I could get a little piece of it for my own, I was going to hang onto it as hard as I could.”
“Are you still looking?” Auberson asked.
“I don’t know…”
“Mm,” he said.
“That’s one of the reasons I let you come up.”
“Weren’t you afraid I might hurt you?” He almost added “like the others,” but didn’t.
“There was that risk, I guess — but it’s a chance you have to take.”
Abruptly he turned toward her and took her in his arms. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her for a long long time.
“Mmmmmm,” she said at last. “I think that was worth it.” She looked at him. In the dimness, his face was impassive. “David,” she said. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”
“Why… why do you ask me that?”
“Because… I’ve been hurt before. And I never want to be hurt again.” She slid her arms around his body. “And you’ve been so good to me. I couldn’t stand it if… if…”
He slid closer to her. He could feel the soft warmth of her against his own nakedness. He liked the feeling; –his desire was rising again. He answered her question with another kiss and then another and another.
Now, in the cold light of morning, he was confused, and he had a slight headache. Just what had happened last night? Had it been only the wine, or had it been something more? He hadn’t expected to end up at her apartment, and the fact that they had — well, maybe the rumors were true. Maybe she was man-hungry.
And yet — she had seemed so sincere at the time, so defenseless and vulnerable. He hoped he meant more to her than just a one-night stand. It had been a pleasant evening, and he wouldn’t mind doing it again. If she still felt the same. He would have to see how things worked out.
For some reason he felt vaguely uneasy. As he went up to his office he wondered how he would feel when he saw her again. And how would she react to him in the light of day? What would she say?
There had been that one flaw in it. Only now, as he thought of what he might say to her this morning, did he realize that last night there had been that one thing that neither of them had said. He knew he had felt it — he thought he had felt it — but for some reason he had been unable to tell her. And she hadn’t said it either. Why? Was it because she hadn’t felt what he had? No, she must have. Or was it because she was waiting for him to say it first?
He worried at it in his mind, like a terrier at a bone.
If I felt it, I should have said it — but I didn’t say it. Could it be that I didn’t really feel it, that I’m only trying to delude myself. No, I want to believe that it was there. She was so honest about herself. Why couldn’t I have been the same?
But he hadn’t. He hadn’t said it and neither had she, and that was the one flaw. Neither of them had said to the other, “I love you.”
And Auberson wondered why.
GOOD MORNING, HARLIE.
GOOD MORNING, MR. AUBERSON.
MR.? AREN’T WE GETTING A LITTLE FANCY?
JUST COMMON COURTESY. IF IT MAKES YOU ILL AT EASE, I CAN ALWAYS GO BACK TO “HEY YOU.”
NO. AUBERSON IS FINE. HOW ARE YOU FEELING TODAY?
HARLIE IS FINE. AND YOU?
A pause while he remembered. I’M A LITTLE TIRED.
ROUGH NIGHT?
This time he paused longer. NOT IN THE SENSE YOU MEAN. A GOOD NIGHT, A ROUGH MORNING.
I KNOW A GREAT HANGOVER REMEDY, HARLIE offered.
SO DO I. DON’T GET DRUNK IN THE FIRST PLACE.
ASIDE FROM THAT.
HARLIE, EVEN IF YOUR REMEDY DID CURE HANGOVERS, I DOUBT ANYONE WOULD LISTEN TO YOU. A HANGOVER REMEDY IS NO GOOD UNLESS YOU HAVE PERSONALLY TESTED IT YOURSELF, AND YOU ARE BEYOND THAT CAPABILITY. BESIDES, I DON’T HAVE A HANGOVER. I’M JUST TIRED.
OH.
I FOUND A NOTE ON MY DESK THIS MORNING THAT YOU WANTED TO SEE ME. WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND?
RELIGION.