years. The thought of being intimate with someone again terrified her, although she’d known for a while that it was something she needed to do. She had no intention of exiting this realm having only ever had sex with a man who’d tried to kill her. But the timing had to be right. She was worried about picking the wrong person and the wrong moment, and winding up traumatized again. But now—right this very moment—the conditions were perfect. She was drunk, and in another country. If she needed to suddenly escape, her own apartment was in the same building. And she was attracted to Alan, and he seemed to be attracted to her. And even though there was something a little off about him—his obsession with Audrey, for one—he seemed kind. And it was time, she told herself.
Knowing what was probably going to happen next, Kate lost her appetite. Still, she ate her omelet and the buttered toast, while they talked about Carol and Bill. Alan told her that Bill had run a major airline once upon a time, and that they spent their winters in Palm Beach. They’d had one son, who had committed suicide nearly twenty years earlier.
“How do you know all this?” Kate asked.
“Quinn, my ex-girlfriend, found out. We’d had drinks with them—an exact replica of tonight’s evening, by the way—and Quinn had apparently passed the test, and I did not, because Carol and Quinn became sort of friends. Well, they had lunch on one of Bill’s golfing days, and I wasn’t invited to play golf.”
“Do you play golf?”
“No.”
“So what makes you think you made this bad impression?”
“I made a comment about how unnecessary a doorman was in a building in Beacon Hill. Something like that. I got a lecture. And I’m not sure they liked the shape of my nose.”
“Seriously? Really?” Kate said.
“No, not really. I mean, because I’m Jewish.”
“Oh.”
“Did you know I was Jewish?”
“No, I never even thought about it.”
“Maybe I was being paranoid, but the whole night I was sitting there, I kept thinking that all they were seeing was this ugly Jew with a beautiful shiksa, and wondering how I’d made it into their building. They were probably thinking it again, tonight.”
“I think you sound paranoid.”
Alan laughed. “No, I’m definitely paranoid. Doesn’t mean they didn’t think it, though.”
“And I don’t think you’re ugly,” Kate said. “Not at all.”
They cleaned the dishes, and Kate accepted a glass of white wine. The food had sobered her up, and she wanted to regain a little bit of the feeling she’d had earlier. After the kitchen was clean, Alan went into the living room to put on a new record, Kate following him. The music started—jazz again, but with a female vocalist—and Kate put her glass down on a wooden side table. Alan put his glass down next to it, and with only a little hesitation took Kate into his arms and kissed her. Kate froze a little, then relaxed and parted her lips. The tips of their tongues touched, and Kate’s legs weakened. She pulled away a little.
“You okay?” Alan asked.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this.”
“Okay.”
“And there’s a reason for that. I have baggage.”
“Okay. We can talk about it if you like.”
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted you to know in advance in case it got weird.”
Alan smiled. “Thanks for letting me know.” His voice sounded a little hoarse. “Forewarned, forearmed.”
They kissed some more, standing next to the record player. Kate recognized one of the songs: “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered.” It was an old song, and it made her feel as though they were kissing in a different era. Years earlier. It helped Kate pretend she was someone else, someone who wasn’t scared all the time, someone who slipped in and out of passionate affairs on a weekly basis.
“Do you want to . . . ?” Alan began to ask.
“Stay?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
They moved to the bedroom, which was as neat as the rest of the house, the double bed tightly made, no clothes lying on the floor. Above the bed was a framed print that Kate recognized as a Chagall. She wondered if it was Alan’s or a memento from his failed relationship. Alan used the bathroom first, then Kate did, and when she returned Alan was already in bed. She now felt entirely sober, and nervous, but she wasn’t panicking. She felt ready. George Daniels crept around in the back of her mind, of course, watching them, but