a silly look, as if he didn’t understand what she meant.
Not entirely ignorant of all the sensitive matters Jonathan was contemplating, and therefore unwilling to pry into his thoughts, Helen said, “What I want to know is what Linda sees in him, on the occasions when she actually does want to see him.”
Neither Jonathan nor Helen had an answer or even a good guess about what Linda might have seen or might once again see in Bill. It was a thorough mystery to them both. Shortly thereafter, exchanging wishes for a good night, Helen went to her apartment and Jonathan returned to his game.
Dear reader, lest you be on the brink of deleting this book or, perhaps, hurling it out of a window, please have a little more patience. You may be completely disgusted at the outrageous suggestion that a good-natured and attractive woman like Helen might have an interest in such a man as Bill. That is understandable, based on what has been told so far. Although Bill wasn’t ugly or mean, he had no strong positive qualities, unless being a shabby tightwad is a virtue. However, there are additional circumstances to consider.
First, it must be stated in Helen’s defense—hopefully to no reader’s disappointment—that she was not a zombie without control over her actions and propelled toward Bill by some dreadful curse, destined to rip his limbs off methodically one by one. Nor was she a witch capable of casting enchantments upon Bill and having him eat out of her hand and drink out of her shoe, who was waiting for the proper moment to say the magic words. She wasn’t even a vampire, with the normal diet of those creatures, who would be having nighttime snacks of Bill, getting her enjoyment out of him, whether he liked it or not. No, although all such imaginative identities might have made a better story and pleased more readers, with the additional benefit of giving Bill what he truly deserved, none were true.
Moreover, Helen didn’t have the seemingly bipolar behavior of Linda to explain why she appeared to lose her mind and ask Bill to go dancing or eat brunch together. The off-and-on attentions of Linda for Bill, on the other hand, are easily accounted for. Although Linda thought that a man would be a desirable addition to her life, as a successful, self-made, hardworking immigrant she wasn’t yet ready to enter into any partnership in her private life and change or compromise. All of her dating—even with the men before Bill—had seesawed between the extremes of wanting companionship and refusing to accept any differences.
Helen was more broad-minded and tolerant than this. She had had a long, happy marriage with George, her deceased husband. Together they had weathered the difficulties that arose with respect and love for each other. He had died a couple of years ago before turning sixty, leaving her a widow without children in easy financial circumstances—she wasn’t wealthy, but she didn’t have to work if she lived wisely—and she had deeply mourned his unexpected death. But with the passage of time she began to feel lonely. She had sold the house where they had lived together for years and moved to the apartment building, thinking she would be around others more and less conscious of being alone. But that move had turned out to be a mistake. Although she lived in closer proximity to others now, she felt even more isolated. People living in apartments, she discovered, were more reserved than house owners. Psychologically, she was ready to meet a new partner in life.
She wasn’t dating, though. She wasn’t even comfortable with the concept of dating. The meaning of the word “dating” appeared to have changed drastically since she was growing up. Whenever she heard or read about young people going on a date, they seemed to be saying they were going to bed together, without much of a detour. The purpose of a date seemed to have become physical recreation for two bodies, without knowledge of or affection for the other. Is that what dating now is, wondered Helen, remembering dates from her youth and their simple, social pleasures. The story that she overheard one day about a young woman who went home willingly with a strange man, both of whom were slightly drunk, shocked her. Without asking, the man squeezed the woman’s windpipe during sexual intercourse, choking her, thinking that such attentive care would heighten her pleasure. The woman, however, thought otherwise. Helen was overcome