The Old Man(18)

“What about your mother?”

“My mother had a little store that sold housewares—sort of a hardware store for women. There were pots and pans and cooking utensils, a little cheap china, sewing stuff, knitting stuff.”

“Did they send you to college?”

“Yes. I graduated with a major in math and a minor in economics, two truly dull subjects. Then I joined the army. When I got out I went to work for the government. I stayed there a couple of years and quit.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why quit?”

“Because by then I was sure that I knew all about taking orders. I didn’t like it. As soon as I started making my own decisions the world got to be a better place for me.”

“You made a lot of money.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you don’t care about money. You don’t think about it, or respect it, the way people do who don’t have any.”

“And why did you tell me you’d figured that out?”

“Because I like you and I wanted you to know that I’ve been paying attention to you and thinking about you. And I guess I also wanted you to know I’m smart.”

The admission that she liked him and paid attention made him anxious, but he didn’t let it show. “I knew you were smart.”

“Oh. I guess I’m too concerned with making sure nobody misses any of my diminishing good points.”

They ate and talked and then had desserts that neither of them would ordinarily have ordered. He had often noticed that getting people to talk about their children was an effective way of keeping them from thinking about anything else, so he asked her about her son and daughter.

It was nearly eleven when they began their walk back to their apartment. Zoe put her arm through his and held on tightly, and he suspected she must be feeling the alcohol.

When he unlocked the apartment door and let her in, he could see the dogs’ eyes glowing with the reflected light of the streetlamp outside. “Hi, Carol. Hi, Dave.”

The dogs circled them in the hallway, wagging their tails and making little noises of welcome.

Zoe patted them and said, “Wow. You guys are so great to come home to.”

“I’d better go out with them for a minute,” Caldwell said. “They’ve been inside for a long time.” He opened the door again and said, “Come on.” The dogs muscled past him and trotted down the stairs to the front door, and he went out to watch over them, then produced a roll of small plastic bags he still had in his pocket from their walk and cleaned up their messes on the strip of lawn. They went around the building to the trash cans and he deposited the bags there, and then the three went up the back stairs.

He and the dogs found the living room was still dark, but Zoe was standing in the middle of the floor. When he came close, she took two steps forward and hugged him.

“Thanks, Peter,” she said. “That was the most pleasant dinner I’ve had in a long time.” She stood on tiptoes with her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. It seemed to have been intended as a quick peck, but it landed on his lips. She seemed about to pull back but then she didn’t, and instead her arms snaked upward around his neck and they kissed differently. The kiss lasted at least five seconds before they broke apart.

This moment was extremely dangerous. If he tried to be distant, he could make her hurt and angry. He might have to move out of this ideal hiding place, and be on the highway looking for a place to stay. He might even turn her into an enemy who would complain to other people about him and try to pick apart his story. “You’re welcome,” he said, so late that they had both almost forgotten what had prompted it. He adopted a casual tone. “We’ll have to have drinks again sometime. Well—”

She said, “I don’t think I’ve ever shown you my room. I don’t suppose you’d like to come for a visit?”

He was silent for a moment. “I would love to, but I’d like you to think about it after daylight. If we take that step, it’s pretty hard to undo. If you decide it wasn’t such a good idea, then you won’t have anything to regret.”

She said, “God, Peter. I’m a grown-up. Don’t you think you can assume I’ve been thinking about this all evening? The truth is that I made up my mind before that—perfectly sober, by the way. I decided to make you take me out for drinks because it was the simplest way to get us to this point, here and now.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry. Pretend I never said anything.”

“I will,” she said. “Now kiss your dogs good night, and come on.”





8


He woke at seven, disoriented for a half second, but then he remembered. He blinked a couple of times and looked around. Her room was sunny, with thick white drapes that had not been pulled together to cover the thin white translucent curtains. He looked over at her side of the bed. It was empty, her pillow still in place with an indentation from her head, and the covers pulled back up, as though she had simply vanished.

He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. His mind began to run through a brief inventory of images, sounds, and words. The fact that he was naked brought him directly to the last part of the evening, and prompted visceral memories. He redirected his thoughts and went over the whole evening rapidly, searching his memory for mistakes he might have made. He decided he had not revealed anything he shouldn’t have, and he had not offended her. She had given him a last kiss and drifted off to a gentle sleep with an untroubled expression.