by Barbara Kent
He had been watching from the other side of the bar, and decided he just wanted to
know her. He writhed through the crowd around her and caught her arm."Listen,"
he shouted to be heard above the music and the other patrons competing for her attention,
then winced because his voicesounded shrill and unmasculine"I'm going home,
but I want to talk to you before I leave. Do you mind?"
She rolled her eyes and thought "Wonderful, a new line," but consented
to his request. He led her to a little table in the back of the bar, and held her
chair as she sat down, thoroughly amazing her. Only her uncles did that. A little
nervous, he sat across from her, his eye captured by the shine in her hair, "Like
a dark jewel," he thought.
"Are you over twenty-one?"
"Yes," she giggled, "May I go now?"
He touched her hand, was shocked by its smoothness and softness, "No, please
don't go. Do you know how beautiful you are?"
"Yes."
He was so embarrassed, and felt as if he were being suckered into a carny game that
he could not resist. In spite of himself, he continued in this vein, "Do you
know that you are the most beautiful girl I've ever met?" Her eyes, he thought,
were like onyx.
Her brow furrowed and he noticed that a cynical little grin made her look much older.
"You haven't met me yet, you're going too fast, and you haven't been around
very much."
"I'm thirty-nine," he said, but even as he heard the words spill out of
his mouth he kicked himself mentally for such foolish vanity. He did not think he
was a bad-looking man, but he was surely more than thirty-nine, more than forty-nine
even, but not in terrible shape, after all, just a little pot belly, and hardly gray
at all, and perhaps she was too young to know the difference between thirty-nine
and forty-nine.
"On which foot?"
"I'm rich."
She stood up to leave and glanced down at him. "Big fucking deal."
"You shouldn't foul up your beautiful mouth with words like that." Bingo.
He never understood exactly which magic words he'd said, but remained grateful that
they worked. That night they charted the hows and wheres of their relationship. She
vowed never to use foul language in his presence again.
He vowed that this was not to be a cheap affair, determined to give some meaning
to it and his life. He did this by buying her marvelous gold trinkets. He sent his
workmen over to her house to fix it up and never charged. Mostly, he was pleased
to be involved in so rich and exciting a relationship, but he wanted desperately
for her to love him.
"Do you love me?"
"No."
"Do you want me?"
"Sometimes."
"Why don't you love me?"
"You're too old."
He got up and got dressed. "You are a cold-hearted little bitch."
"So?" she shrugged,"...Go home to your wife."
But he kept coming back. He bought clothes, and jewelry which she didn't appreciate
at all. The jewelry was his personal indulgence, and he wanted her to wear all of
it when they went out. But she didn't. He wanted her to wear fancy clothes and sexy
underwear but she wore jeans and no underwear. And she never, ever wore the jewelry.
"I am ashamed," he said one night, "to be seen with you, the way you
dress."
But she looked him square in the eye, "Larry, if I were you I'd be ashamed too,
to be seen with me. Cheater."
He got so mad at her. "You don't care for me at all! Why do you bother seeing
me? How can you let me touch you if you don't love me!" She lay her head in
his lap but he slapped her away, "Don't do that! I don't like that! No real
man likes that! Didn't anybody ever teach you anything?" His face went suddenly
pale, and he grabbed at his chest. He fell over onto the bed and she leaned over
him.
"Larry? Larry! Larry, stop fooling around! Are you OK?"
He moaned 'O God, I'm dying! O God, I'm dying here!"
She grabbed his pants and found his wallet. Then she went over to the phone and dialed
the desk. He could only hear her mumble, but she didn't sound upset at all. He wondered
what he'd done to deserve this kind of death. In a motel with a young girl. It would
kill his wife and children. And the girl wasn't worth it. She was nothing but a cold,
calculating little bitch who was in it for anything she could get. No better than
a cheap little whore. His wonderful wife deserved better than this. He could not
move but he was surprised to hear the sirens coming closer and closer. They'd never
make it in time though...he began to pray. She pulled his pants on him and quickly
helped him zip up. Then she pulled his shirt around him and told him not to worry.
In the ambulance she said, "the car has been towed in front of your country
club. The ambulance crew will be gone by the time your wife gets there. I paid the
tow truck by leaving the money with the guy in the motel. OK Larry?"
He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."
She kissed him on the forehead, "Yes, but not tonight."
When they got to the hospital, he was whisked away and she gave the attending nurse
and physician this story: "Larry and I have been friends for a long time. His
wife wouldn't understand our relationship, so, um, if you just don't mention where
he was picked up..." Miraculously, they both understood. She poked her head
behind the screen where Larry was being worked on. "Gimme a call when you're
feeling better, OK?" As she was waiting outside the hospital for her cab, his
fat wife pulled up in her new El Dorado. They passed each other on the hospital steps.
Some weeks later she received in the mail a fabulous gold bracelet with Florentine
curls embracing precious stone hearts. There was a perfect little ruby, a beautiful,
flawless diamond, a brilliant blue sapphire, and absolutely clear emerald and a shimmering
star of India. She smiled, thought "Aww, how nice." Then threw the bracelet
in the drawer with all the other jewelry.