still going to end up better than hers, and for my part, I got fed up lending her money I was never going to see again, and worn out by Jessie, who was an incurably needy, whiny little girl. It all led to this unreal moment which I'd rather not talk about.'
Looking down again to the photograph, Nat changed the subject by asking what Storm was like.
'Truth?' I answered. 'I was so incredibly nervous that if it weren't for the picture, I wouldn't even remember it happened.'
'Storm's a good show,' Nat said. 'I saw him three times. That's all I did when I was in college--go to concerts and get stoned. Unlike now, when I go to work and get stoned.'
He was in a bantering mode, but I stared.
'Nat, you're not really going to the supreme court with reefer in your pocket?'
He was sheepish and muttered something about it being a hard year.
'Nat, if you ever got caught, you'd be prosecuted. Your dad's way too prominent for you to catch a break. They'll suspend your law license, and nobody will let you near a high school, either.'
My lecture embarrassed him, naturally, and we ended up in silence, as we sat on the floor to eat. Down low, with our backs against the plaster, it turned out to be the coolest place in the apartment. Nat was still sunk into himself. He'd told me when we had lunch that his former girlfriends all described him as dark and remote. I hadn't seen what they were talking about until now.
'Hey,' I said. 'We all do stupid stuff. Just ask me. I'm the world leader.'
He looked straight at me for a second. 'So tell me about that breakup,' he said.
'Oh, Nat. I don't think I could.'
His look lingered only a second, then he shrugged and went back to his sandwich with no more to say. I saw how completely you could lose connection with him, especially when he feels bad about himself.
'No questions,' I said. I had closed my eyes to figure out exactly how I could do this, but even so, I sensed him turning my way. 'Right after I stopped working for your dad, I began seeing a much older guy. Very, very successful, very prominent, somebody I'd known and looked up to for a long time. It was pretty wild. But also purely nuts. He was married and was never going to leave his wife.'
'Ray, right? Ray Horgan. That's why you gave me that goofy look when I mentioned his name at your apartment.'
I opened my eyes and stared hard. I can do that when I have to.
'Okay,' he said. 'No questions. What do you say in court? "Withdrawn." Sorry. Sorry, sorry.'
I told him the rest of the story in a few words: a great guy who had always told me it was crazy and finally broke it off. You could hear the faint burble of the TV in the apartment next door after I finished.
'So I bet you're going to go looking through these boxes for my scarlet letter,' I finally said.
'Hey,' he answered. 'Like you said, we all do dumb things.' He took some time then to tell me the long story of the affair he'd had with the mother of one of his closest friends during his senior year in high school. In the circumstances, it was a kind thing for him to share.
'You're a good guy, Nat.'
'I try,' he answered. Our heads had ended up lolled against the wall as he had quietly described the way he'd blundered into that woman's bed, and our faces by now were not very far apart. His eyes were full on mine, and there wasn't any missing the meaning of his look. I could feel everything, my loneliness and longing, and could have done something incredibly, unbelievably stupid at that moment, the same way I always have. But you have to learn something from living. I ruffled his wet hair instead and got back to my feet.
He was visibly chafed, and a few minutes later said he had to jet, although he made a halfhearted offer to drive me home that I declined. When I got back eventually, I e-mailed profuse thanks and promised to invite him to my first dinner party.
He didn't answer for two days, and I knew I was in trouble the way something popped in my chest the instant I saw his name in my in-box and read the subject line.
FROM: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, 8/4/08 5:45