Part 16 (1/2)

”So how could you be with him?”

”Maybe if he came with me.” She frowned. ”No,” she said. ”That wouldn't be fair. He could still be a dancer if I could be in my church.”

”Any other men in your life?”

”There are men in the church I care about, but we never . . .”

I nodded. ”Okay. Want to go to the studio?”

”Tommy's studio? No.” She shook her head vigorously. ”No.”

”Okay,” I said. ”Neutral ground. My office.” She nodded.

We walked down across the Common to my office. When we went in I looked automatically across the street at Linda's office. She was there but her back was to the window. I stared at her for a moment, feeling something very much like need tugging at my stomach. Then I sat down in my chair and called Tommy Banks.

He arrived a half hour later, his face tight, his movements constricted, like a man walking over a slippery spot on a winter street. Sherry stood when he came in. They looked silently at each other and then she stepped to him and kissed him lightly. He put his arms around her, but she stiffened and leaned her hips away from him. He knew it at once and took his arms away quickly. They stood back from each other, hurt showing in Banks's face.

”Same old pa.s.sionate Sher,” he said. It had the sound of an ancient refrain. She shook her head slowly from side to side.

”Tommy,” she said.

”You ready to come back,” he said.

She looked at me. I remained silent. ”Tommy, I can't come back and be a dancer.”

”G.o.d won't approve?” he said.

”Isn't there another way for us to be together?”

”You want me to move up in your f.u.c.king commune?” Tommy said. ”Mumble beads all day or whatever you do?”

”That's not what we do,” she said.

”Does it have to be either or?” I said.

Having done such a swell job on my own love life, maybe I could start spreading it around.

”What do you mean?” Banks said.

”She does church work, you dance, but you share each other's evenings or whatever.”

”She's a dancer,” Banks said, ”so am I. I won't let her throw her life away on some f.u.c.king superst.i.tion.”

”It's my life, Tommy.”

Banks turned toward her and his intensity trembled in the room.

”Your life is my life. I'm you and you're me. There's no my-life-your-life with us.”

”Tommy,” she said, and her voice was pressed and despairing, ”I can't be with you all the time. But we could be together some, often, but not always. I'm not a dancer anymore, Tommy. You can't ch.o.r.eograph me anymore.”

Banks's breath was heaving. He opened his mouth and closed it and the tears began to run down his face. At his sides his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

”Separate people can still love,” Sherry said.

”Them,” Banks gasped. ”Them or me.”

”Don't,” Sherry said. ”Don't do that, Tommy.”

They stood silently two feet apart. I felt the knot tighten inside me as I sat. I looked out my window. Linda wasn't there. I turned back, feeling a little sick.

”Them,” Banks said as if he were spitting. He turned and walked out of the office, leaving the door open, and I heard his footsteps recede down the corridor. Sherry turned toward me and we looked at each other silently. She sat suddenly in my client chair and her body sagged and she put her face in her hands and cried. After a while I got up and went over and stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders a little and tried to think of something to say.

CHAPTER 36.

I was at my apartment eating bean soup with Paul when Susan called. Her voice was small. ”h.e.l.lo,” she said.

”h.e.l.lo.”

”How are you?”

”Still here,” I said. ”How about yourself?”

”I'm as far from you as I can get,” she said.

”Not true,” I said. ”You could get a job in Hong Kong.”

”I don't mean it that way,” she said. ”I mean I can't give you up. I can't altogether leave you.”

”Can you come back?”

”No.”

”Getting any pressure from your guy friend?”

”Yes.”

”He wants to move in?”

”Yes.”

”You can't do that either.”