Part 31 (1/2)
She rose up an inch or so, a tousled head peering through tangled hair with one half-open eye.
”Wha' time is it?”
”Past eleven.”
”You have to call the office at this time of night?”
”I have terrible hours.”
”Ridiculous. Besides, it's too early to leave.”
”You've got a husband, remember?”
”I have a husband in Atlanta for the night,” she said. She looked up at me and smiled. There wasn't a hint of remorse on her face. She looked as innocent as a five-year-old.
”He may call.”
She snuggled up again.
”Uh-uh. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, he trusts me.”
I didn't feel like dealing with that. I didn't feel like dealing with any of it. Guilt gnawed at my stomach like an ulcer and it had nothing to do with Harry Raines. I kept lying to myself that it had been inevitable. I s.h.i.+fted again and reached for my clothes. She sat up, leaning naked against the bulkhead, her tawny form outlined by the dying moon.
”More,” she whispered, and it was more of a demand than a plea.
A new fire ignited deep in my gut, but the old devils were creeping back: guilt, frustration, jealousy, distrust.
I threw the Windbreaker over her.
”Give me a break,” I said, squeezing out a smile.
”You never asked for a break before,” she said, putting a hand as soft as chamois on my chest.
”I was in training then.”
”Please come back,” she said as I started to dress.
”I never know about later. I could be on my way to Alaska an hour from now.”
”No.”
I laughed. ”No? What did you mean, no?”
”I waited all these years for you to come back. You are not going to just up and leave, not again.”
She closed her eyes and put her head back against the side of the boat. ”I went crazy inside when I saw you at the restaurant yesterday and then at the track this morning,” she said. ”It all came rus.h.i.+ng back at me. Like a tidal wave inside me.” She opened her eyes and looked at me. ”It happened, and it wasn't one of those things you question. Do you know what I mean?”
Instant replay: rampant fantasy from the past. For months after Chief had written his good-bye letter, fantasies had infested my days. Uncontrollable, they were like panes of gla.s.s, separating me from reality. the fantasies were impossible dreams that she would show up at my door in the middle of the night to tell me she couldn't live another instant without me; that I would find her waiting in the corner of some restaurant. I looked for her everywhere I went, in supermarkets, in the windows of other cars as I drove down the highway. I bought a pair of cheap binoculars so I could scan Chief's box at Sanford Stadium on football weekends. Even a glimpse, I thought, would help. Finally I accepted the danger of fantasies. They sour into nightmares and vanish, leaving scars on the soul. Tonight could not change that, even though the fantasy was becoming real again.
I could feel the armor, like a steel skin, slipping around me.
”Don't go away again,” she said. ”Not for a while, at least. Give it a chance.”
I let some anger out, not much, just relieving the pressure for a moment.
”That isn't exactly the way it played,” I said harshly.
”It was Chief. He never understood how we really felt about each other.”
”He understood all right.”
She looked away, fiddling with a strand of cotton raveling from her dress.
”Hey, Jake, you know Chief. He always made whatever he said sound so . . . so, right. n.o.body ever argued with Chief.”
”Maybe somebody should have.”
She stared at me for several seconds before saying, ”Why didn't you?”
I didn't know how to answer that properly.
What I said was ”Pride,” and let it go at that.
She nodded. ”Beats us all, doesn't it.”
”Well, it's a little hard, coming to grips with the feeling that you're a failure at twenty-one because you have bad ankles. It made me readjust some of my values.”
”Jake,” she said suddenly, changing the mood entirely. ”I want to hear about Teddy.”
”I wrote you all there is to know.”
”I want to hear it from you.”
”Why, for G.o.d's sake?”
”So I'll know it's true and I can forget it, once and for all.”
”It's true, believe me. I won't replay it, Doe. It's not one of my favorite images.”
It had been so long I had almost forgotten the lie. It was heroic, a real Greek tragedy, that much I remembered.
”Time you laid Teddy to rest,” I said softly. ”Forget the war. That wasn't reality, it was madness. Remember him the way he was the day you pushed him into the bay. That's what he'd want.”
Then she started to cry, very softly so you would hardly notice it.
”He'd like it, that we're together here. He was all for us, Jake.”