my shoulders, her fingers kneading me. “Come to bed,” she said in her voice of oiled silk and bedroom pleasures.
“I’m awake now,” I told her, meaning it in so many ways. “You go.” I felt her hands withdraw, and she stood silently—angry, puzzled, or both. She’d spread her angel’s wings, offered to lift me up, and I’d shot her down. Where would she go now? What lever could she trust to move me when the last resort of ready flesh had failed her in the end? I knew only that quiet retreat was not an option for her.
“Who’ve you been talking to?” she asked, a new edge in her voice. I glanced at the phone at my side, thought of Vanessa Stolen, and marveled coldly at my perspicacity.
“Nobody.”
“May I have the phone?”
I took another drag.
“The phone,” she insisted.
When I looked at her, I saw what I expected to see, thin lips in a face gone pale. “Do you really want to do this?” I asked.
In one movement, she stooped and snatched up the phone. I didn’t try to stop her. She pushed the redial button and I turned away, to the strange man in his long coat. He drew nearer, his eyes downcast, his face all but hidden. I wondered if Vanessa would answer and hoped not; beyond that, I felt nothing, not anger or fear, not even regret. I heard Barbara disconnect, and her voice, when she spoke, was tight with anger. “I thought you were done with her.”
“I thought so, too.”
“How long?” she demanded.
“I don’t want to talk about this, Barbara. Not now.” I climbed slowly to my feet, hoping as I turned that I would see tears in my wife’s eyes, anything to show that she felt more than wounded pride. “I’m tired. I’m hung over.”
“Whose fault is that?” she snapped.
I pushed out a deep breath. “I’m going for that walk,” I told her. “We can talk later if you still want to.”
“Don’t walk away from me!”
“Walking won’t put any more distance between us.”
“Oh. So now your adultery is my fault.”
“I’m not talking about this now,” I told her.
“I may not be here when you get back,” she threatened. I stopped halfway down the steps.
“Do what you have to do, Barbara. Nobody can blame you for that, me least of all.” I turned away from her heavy breathing and started down the sidewalk, heading toward the street and the park, which shimmered with cold dew.
“She’s a dirty little whore. I’ve never understood your obsession with her,” Barbara said to my back, her voice climbing. “Never!” The last word was a shout.
“Careful, Barbara,” I said without turning to face her. “The neighbors will hear.” I heard the door slam and imagined that she’d locked it, too. I didn’t care. My life dropped away as I stepped off the property and onto the sidewalk. I was a man, like any other. I had taken action, stood my ground. I felt real and it felt good.
At the bottom of the yard, I waited for this man I’d seen a thousand times yet never really met. I got a better look at him as he approached. He was magnificently unattractive, with melted features and a grimace that pulled his lip over brown teeth, which showed only on the right side of his face. He wore grimy glasses with thick black frames and his hair hung limply from beneath the hunting cap.
“Mind if I walk with you?” I asked as he came level with me. He stopped and tilted his head at me. Green irises swam in a yellow sea and his voice, when he spoke, was a smoker’s voice. I heard the same heavy accent.
“Why?”
There was distrust there.
“Just because,” I said. “Just to talk.”
“Still a free country.” He resumed his walking and I fell into step with him.
“Thanks.”
I felt his eyes on my naked chest. “I’m not gay,” he said.
“Me neither.”
He grunted, said nothing.
“You’re not my type anyway.”
He barked a laugh that ended with a snort of approval. “A smart-ass, huh? Who’d have thought?”
We walked down the sidewalk, past the big houses and the length of the park. A few cars were on the streets and some kids were feeding the ducks. The morning mist was slowly burning off the lake.
“I’ve seen you,” he finally said to me. “Seen you for years—sittin’ up there on your porch. Must be one heck of a view.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s a good place to watch the world pass by,