Too Easy (10 page)

“Come down here and kiss me,” he says.

When their faces are inches apart, he says, “I do love you. And I like you. And I lust after you. All three, probably more than any other time, any other woman.”

“Probably?” Kathy laughs. “Who's the bitch? I'll kill her.”

“No,” Robie says earnestly, “you're in a class by yourself.”

“Oh, I think I'll jerk me off right now. You mind?”

Robie stares.

“Only kidding, lover. I just wanted you to know you got the juices flowing. Thanks, big precious.” She laughs in a girlish way. “I think I'll sit on your chest. So you can see how hot you make me.”

The things she says! Robie feels his penis stiffen. She doesn't notice, swinging one knee over him, settling her weight on him, smiling down between her swinging breasts. “Now,” she says, “tell me what you're thinking about. . . . Is it the economic condition of the country? . . .
No?
Is it the riots in Brooklyn? . . .
No?
By the way, what you're feeling . . .”

“What?”

“It's a special medical condition. It's called VFS. Vaginal fire syndrome.”

She sort of smiles at him, waiting for Mr. Literal to catch up, join the party.

Robie finally laughs. “Oh. Haha. Yeah.”

He thinks about Anne's expression, that time in the kitchen. He wonders why he assumed that of all the things she could do, she'd react just the way he wanted. Go, Robert, you're free to do as you please.
Of course
she'll make problems, maybe big problems. How can he chance it? Damn you, Anne! Be reasonable. Get out of the way.

Kathy studies him. “You're with me. You don't
think
about her. That's an order.” She reaches behind herself to squeeze his penis, wake him up. “Oh,” she's says, “it's alive. Well, half alive. That's
still
an order.”

“The thing you have to remember about her,” Robie says, looking away, wanting somehow to explain himself, “is that she spends her days telling big corporations how to save big bucks. Maybe they think of her as a tough cookie. She doesn't usually bring that side of her home. Wait . . . don't do that.” He holds Kathy's arms. “One more minute. All I can
tell you is that there was an instant when I saw it.” He fumbles on, trying to find something good in his failure. “Maybe a couple instants. Thing is, this might be a blessing. I mean, once the cat's out of the bag, hell, I lose control. I think. Now we can look the terrain over. Move in just the right way. You know, while we still have the element of surprise.”

Kathy listens for some sense in all this, not sure there is any. “Look, lover. The best thing for everybody is she disappears off the face of the planet. But that's not going to happen. So what are you going to do? You think of the story that will upset her the least. I'm repeating myself, right? But I'm a woman. This is what I'd want to hear, if you have to hear this kind of shit. It's not her. You still love her. But you've grown in a different direction. You need time and space. It happens a thousand times a day, you know.”

Kathy draws her knees up, rests her chin on them. Staring almost straight down at him. Robie nods that he understands.

“You're sure she doesn't know, right?” Kathy asks.

“No, I know her. She'd ask me straight out. Or she'd be pissed all the time.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, you're married eight, nine years, there's patterns. You stay right in them, no problem. And my wife's emotional.” Maybe too emotional, he thinks. “If there's a problem, she's going to . . . complain.” He almost says
whine,
to make the point, but decides it's disloyal.

Robie glances down along her thighs at the glistening hair. He raises his hands to rub her back.

Kathy laughs. “I knew this weird guy believed in UFOs, abductions, all that alien stuff. So put her up on the roof at night. Maybe some green guys will take her away.”

“That's not . . . very nice.”

“Oh, Robie.” Kathy giggles. “She might like it—sex with green men? Don't be jealous, now.”

“I think now,” he says, “I'm only jealous of you.”

“You'll never have any reason to be jealous of me. . . . Hey, remember, I'm the one who should be jealous. I'm still the other woman.”

“No. Not for long. I promise.”

“Thanks, lover.”

“This back-and-forth life is tough on me, you know. I want to be with you.” Robie thinks how simple life would be if Anne got on a plane, and it crashed. . . .

“It was always fate, Robie. We belong together. You think God makes marriages?”

“Maybe.”

“If He does, He made ours.”

“Right.”

“Now let me ask you an important philosophical question. You want to eat me? Or vice versa?”

•
 Kathy gets the call from Louise. The one she always half expected. Keith put the pressure on, slapped Louise around some. She told him what he wanted to know.

Alright, deal with it, Kathy tells herself. The hell with Keith. Let's do it.

She takes a personal day and goes to Hoboken. Visit the sick girl, least she can do. Crazy Keith probably waiting for her. What difference does it make? He knows where she works now. He'll show up sooner or later.

Outside the PATH station, Kathy finds a cab, tells the driver Louise's address and that she wants to cruise the street, make sure a certain someone is not around. Driver nods. What's he care? More money on the meter. Kathy sits in the left corner, checks in her purse for the little cylinder of Mace. She puts it in her right-hand coat pocket, the cap loose.

Louise lives on a block of six-story buildings, sort of rundown residential. No big Harleys in sight. Kathy gets out two blocks away and calls Louise from a pay phone, says she'll buzz three times, be waiting.

She puts a scarf over her hair, turns up the collar of her coat. Waits for some people going in the same direction.

“Hi,” she says. “I might move in around here. What's the neighborhood like?”

“Oh, good,” one of the women says. They're older; one's probably a grandmother, at least.

Kathy walks close to them, scanning the street, keeping the conversation going until she reaches Louise's building. “Wait a sec, will you?”

Kathy steps into the vestibule, buzzes Louise. When the door clicks, Kathy waves. “Oh, good, my friend's home. See ya!”

She's watchful going up in the elevator to the third floor, and stepping into the hallway. Louise opens the door at the end, calls out, “You're home.”

Kathy walks in slowly, studying Louise. Three dark bruises on her face, maybe some she can't see.

Kathy holds her friend's shoulders. “I'm really sorry.”

Louise shrugs. “I'm okay. I could've worked. But who wants all the questions.”

“Well, you did everything you could for me. More. I'll always be grateful.”

“Alright, alright, let's not get all serious. I'm watching Oprah, about lesbians who marry gays. Is this an exciting world, or what?”

“It's an exciting world.”

Louise is wearing jeans and a turtleneck jersey. Very tight. “Hey, you got other injuries?” Kathy gestures at the jersey. “Or are you just trying to show off your tits?”

Louise makes a thin smile. “Still pretty good, huh?”

“You want to answer the question? You want to give a lady a drink?”

“Sorry. Make yourself at home. We'll get something, then sit over there in the IC unit.”

Louise laughs as she goes to the kitchen, gets two glasses, a bucket of ice, a bottle of gin and a bottle of cranberry juice. “Buffet style,” she says. “The way you like it.”

Kathy takes her coat off, turns the TV off, sits on the living room sofa. A small one-bedroom apartment. Sort of un-decorated-looking, as though Louise just moved in. Kathy thinks she's been here two years.

After they mix up some red gin, Kathy says, “So what, really, is the damage?”

“Just what you see.” Louise is in the big easy chair, legs folded beneath her. Her light brown hair combed out almost straight. No makeup. She makes Kathy think
sexy librarian.
“And he grabbed my arms real hard. They're blue. Shook me a lot. I think he likes that.”

“Makes your tits jump.”

“He said that.”

Kathy waits. “And?”

“Well, he was real dramatic. Scared me more than he hurt me.”

“That's Keith. Guy ought to go to Hollywood. Get paid for acting all the time.”

Louise laughs.

“I notice you're not all that angry, Louise. You're nuts, you know, if you even think about this guy for one second.”

“I know. I know.” She glances around vaguely. “Look, the main thing is you. He said he'll be seeing you.” Louise watches for her reaction.

Kathy sighs wearily. “It doesn't matter, Louise. It just doesn't matter.”

“Nothing's left? No sparks?”

“Nothing. Everything he stands for, I've moved past it. You like Keith. You take him.”

“Maybe I would . . . but he likes you.”

“He doesn't like me. He wants me.”

“Well, that's a compliment, isn't it?”

“Oh, sure. Louise, he wants me on the back of his Harley. Prize pussy. Jerking him off on the New Jersey Turnpike while we're doing eighty.”

“Damn. Thinks big, doesn't he?”

They both laugh together, almost like old times.

“Louise, I think you like this shit.” She gestures at the bruises. “Is life so boring?”

Louise shrugs.

“Puts a glow in your cheeks, does it?”

“Leave my ass out of this.” She laughs, uncomfortably. “Anybody ever knock you around?”

“Yeah, my father. To put it politely. You know what I mean?”

“Oh, Kathy . . . I don't think I understood.”

“Remember when he died? You were more upset than I was.”

“Oh, that's terrible. I'm sorry.”

“Well, it's something you put behind you, and you try to move on. Keith, I guess, was a lot like Dad, now that I think about it. See, I've
got
to move on, get away from all that.”

“Ohhh.” Louise looks sad a moment. “So how is all . . . you know, your plans?”

“Good. Fine. Everything's on schedule.”

“You got him?”

“He proposed, I'll say that much.”

“Oh, congratulations.” She holds up her glass.

“Thanks. Let's wait until you get the invite.”

Louise looks skeptical. “Wait, is proposing the same as leaving his wife?”

“He's married almost nine years, Louise. How fast can a man jump? Being fair about it?”

“You tell him about Keith?”

“You kidding?”

Kathy stares at her friend. She's holding herself in an
oddly sensual way. Her voice gets quiet when she talks about Keith.

“Louise. I think you want the guy . . . or maybe you already did.”

Louise looks away.

“Louise, sweetie. I don't care. It's your funeral. Just get something straight. The guy would fuck a doughnut.”

“You can be rough, you know that?

“You don't listen, you know that?”

“So . . . who does?”

They sit in silence for a while. A quiet, sort of timeless feeling in the room. Kathy thinks it could be a room anywhere in America. Anytime when it's light out. Louise squirms on the sofa, says, “So what're you thinking about?”

“What a loser Keith is. . . . The shit I did when I was twenty. It'd turn your stomach.”

“Maybe not mine.”

“Alright!
Nurses!” Kathy laughs. “Guys always saying you're hornier than normal.”

“We see a lot of bad stuff.”

“You see a lot of bodies.”

“We see people sick and dying. Anything healthy, well, we appreciate it. Maybe more than most people.”

“Great. Well, Keith isn't healthy.”

“Are we fighting? I don't have a problem with Keith. You do.”

“What?”

“Forgetting you ever knew him. Meanwhile, he's going to be around.”

“Really, I do not have a problem. Nada. I see him on my door, I'll have him arrested.”

“For what?”

“Anything the man's got on his mind is illegal.”

They laugh together again.

“Hell, I'll Mace him. I'd shoot him if I could. It'd be
selfdefense, wouldn't it? You ought to think along the same lines.”

“I don't think I could hurt him.”

“Oh, Louise.”

“I am a nurse.”

Kathy pours some more gin, shaking her head. The bullshit people tell themselves. She's all beat up. Waiting for the next time. What can you do? The only reason Keith talked to her was to get to me. That and maybe getting laid. Kind of sad, but what can you do?

•  •  •

In the train under the Hudson, going back to Manhattan, Kathy tries to put Louise out of her mind. A lot of heart. A great heart. But look what she's doing with it. And Keith. Put him out of my mind, too. The hell with him, really. Louise still doesn't believe me. I tell her ten times, and she still thinks I'm in love with the guy, because she is. . . .

Kathy thinks back, again, over all the times she's seen Robie. She thinks about the office, the lobby of the building, the streets nearby. Did anyone ever see them together? Did they ever even nod hello to a passing acquaintance, either of them?

Maybe at the very beginning. When they were just chatting. Wouldn't mean anything to anybody. Newspaper people are very friendly. A lot of them drink together. Lots of laughs. Me and Robie chatting, a few feet apart, nobody would look once.

Never once went to my place.

Interesting, she thinks, how careful I was. Not even sure why. Probably some TV program about asshole divorce lawyers. Why give them ammunition?