was doing and what she was drinking, I watched her walk out the back door, alone, to a patio behind the club. Hurrying up to the bar, I ordered her drink (Bombay with a splash of tonic and two limes) and a beer, and followed her outside.
She smiled and accepted the drink and my company. We sat in wrought-iron garden furniture, drinking and smoking cigarettes and some Lebanese hash I kept in the fold of my wallet for special occasions.
As the band grew trashier (a local female rocker who made up for a serious lack of tone by rubbing her crotch throughout the set) and the joint filled up, that time of night came when men were in the ladies’ room pissing in the sink and several minor fights were breaking out. But at this point Karen and I were only concentrating on each other.
Two rounds later we were in the men’s room stall, doing coke off the commode (a half Karen scored from the bartender), laughing because we couldn’t even see the white on white. We dragged each other out of the place and, climbing into another old Chrysler product I was driving at the time, headed across town.
Then we were on the George Washington Parkway, screaming north at eighty miles per, all four windows down, and listening to Madness’s “Night Boat to Cairo” at maximum volume with the radio dead set on 102.3, the old home of the then-ballsy HFS. We were twisted out of our minds and higher than hippies, and Karen had already unzipped my fly and dug in, and I knew it was going to be amazing, that night and maybe longer.
And it was, but only for about six months. By that time I had graduated from college and we had impulse-married and rented a portion of a house on the east side of the Hill. Soon Karen began wearing her hair differently and lost the eye makeup. She diagnosed me (correctly) as a childish romantic, and pushed me to be more assertive at work and “go for” management, which I grudgingly did.
We split up less than a year after we were married. Though it seems as if the explanation for our failed marriage should be more complicated, I know it to be just that simple.
WHEN KAREN OPENED the door of her apartment, located in old Arlington, the look of disappointment was plain upon her face. I had cleaned up early Tuesday morning, keeping the bandages on as an alternative to the damage underneath. But the area below both eyes had begun to swell and discolor.
“Don’t look so happy,” I said. “I thought you wanted to see me.”
“I did, but not like this. What the hell happened to you, Nicky?”
“Can’t I come in?”
“Sure,” she said, waving me forward with her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She had on jeans and an oversized pocket T-shirt, which she dowdily wore outside the jeans. As I followed her into the kitchen, I noticed that her hips and bottom were a little fuller, though she carried it well. The wedge cut she was sporting was shaven high and tight on the back of her neck, this year’s stylish but not over-the-top hairstyle for the career woman.
There were many labeled cartons lining the hall but no furniture in the apartment. The kitchen was empty except for a live coffeemaker and one cup. There were no chairs so I sat on the linoleum floor, my back against a base cabinet.
Karen washed out the cup in the sink, then handed it to me, filled with fresh coffee. I took a sip and rested the cup on my knee. She had a seat across from me against the bare white wall, and crossed one leg over the other. She still had a look about her.
“Now I know why you’ve been calling,” I said. “You’re leaving, right?”
“Yes. The company’s moving me to Philadelphia this week.”
“Congratulations,” I said, careful to omit any hint of sarcasm. “I assume it’s a good move for you.”
“It’s an excellent opportunity. I got a substantial raise, and something like a signing bonus. I’m looking forward to the change.”
“I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said. “I mean, I wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. There’s so much been going on.”
“I can see,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“My nose is broken. In the last week I’ve been beaten up, twice. Yesterday I lost my job at Nathan’s. I’m not exactly on the