A Cold Heart

“Giving yourself time,” she said.

Saying the right thing. Trained to say the right thing. Maybe this was a mistake. Even back in grad school, I’d avoided dating women in my field, wanting to know about other worlds, worried that intimacy with another therapist would be too confining. Then I met Robin, and there’d been no need to look anywhere…

“Anyway,” I said. “If you’re busy-”

She laughed. “Sure, let’s get together.”

“Still a carnivore?”

“You remember. Did I gorge myself that badly? Don’t answer that. No, I haven’t gone vegetarian.”

I named a steakhouse not far from her office. “How about tomorrow night?”

“I’ve got patients until eight, but if you don’t mind a late dinner, sure.”

“Nine,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at your office.”

“Why don’t I meet you there?” she said. “That way I won’t have to leave my car.”

Setting up an escape plan.

I said, “Terrific.”

“See you then, Alex.”

A date.

How long had it been? Eons… Even though Allison would be bringing her own wheels, I washed and vacuumed the Seville, got compulsive about it, and ended up squatting at the grille wielding a toothbrush. An hour later, grubby and sweaty and reeking of Armor All, I took a long run, stretched, showered, shaved, shined up a pair of black loafers, and pulled out a navy blazer.

Soft, single-breasted Italian model, two Christmases old… a gift from Robin. I yanked it off, switched to a black sport coat, decided it made me look like an undertaker and returned to the blue. Next step: slacks. Easy. The featherweight gray flannels I usually wore when I testified in court. Add a yellow tab-collar shirt and a tie and I’d be- which tie? I tried on several, decided neckwear was too stuffy for the occasion, switched to a lightweight navy crewneck and decided that was too damn Hollywood.

Back to the yellow shirt. Open-necked. No, the tabs didn’t look good that way. And the damn thing was already sweat-stained under the arms.

My heartbeat had kicked up, and my stomach was flipping around. This was ridiculous. What would I tell a patient in the same predicament?

Be yourself.

Whoever that was.

***

I reached the restaurant first, thought about waiting in the Seville and greeting Allison as she approached the door. I figured that might alarm her and went inside. The place was lit at tomb level. I sat at the bar, ordered a beer, and watched sports on TV- I can’t remember the sport- had barely gotten through the foam when Allison arrived, freeing a black tide of hair from her sweater and looking around.

I got to her just as the maitre d’ looked up. When she saw me, her eyes widened. No look-over; just focusing on my face. I smiled, she smiled back.

“Well, hello.” She offered her cheek, and I pecked. The sweater was lavender cashmere, and it matched the clinging dress that sheathed her from breastbone to knee. Matching shoes with big heels. Diamond earrings, diamond tennis bracelet, a short strand of silver pearls around her white neck.

We sat down. She ordered a glass of merlot, and I asked for a Chivas. The red leather booth was roomy, and I sat far enough away to avoid intrusiveness, close enough to smell her. She smelled great.

“So,” she said, aiming those blue eyes at the empty booth next to us.

“Long day?”

Back to me. “Yes. Thankfully.”

“Know what you mean,” I said.

She played with a napkin. “What have you been up to?”

“After the Ingalls case quieted down, I took a little time off. Lately I’ve being doing court consultations.”

“Crime consultations?”

“No,” I said. “Injury cases, some child custody.”

“Custody,” she said. “That gets ugly.”

“Especially when there’s enough money to pay lawyers indefinitely, and you get stuck with an idiot judge. I try to limit myself to smart judges.”

“Find any?”

“It’s a challenge.”

The drinks arrived. We clinked glasses and drank in silence. She twirled the stem, inspected the menu, said, “I’m starving, will probably gorge again.”

“Go for it.”

“What’s good?”

“I haven’t been here in years.”

“Oh?” She seemed amused. “Did you pick it to indulge my carnivorous tendencies?”

“Yours and mine. Also, I recalled it as relaxed.”

“It is.”

Silence. My face warmed- Scotch and awkwardness. Even in the dim light I could see that she’d colored.

“Anyway,” she said. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you, but you made talking about my experience as easy as it could’ve been. So thanks.”

“Thanks for helping. It made a difference.”

She scanned the menu some more, gnawed her lower lip, looked up, said, “I’m thinking T-bone.”

“Sounds good.”

“You?”

“Rib eye.”

“Major-league beefathon,” she said. She looked at the empty booth again, brought her eyes back to the tablecloth, seemed to be studying my fingertips. I was glad I’d filed my nails.

“You’re taking time off from crime cases,” she said, “but you’ll go back to it.”

“If I’m asked.”

“Will you be?”

I nodded.

She said, “I never got to ask you. What draws you to that kind of thing?”

“I could recite some noble speech about righting wrongs and making the world just a little bit safer, but I’ve stopped fooling myself. The truth is, I have a thing for unpredictability and novelty. From time to time, I need a shot of adrenaline.”

“Like a race car driver.”

I smiled. “That glamorizes it.”

She drank wine, kept the glass in front of her lips, lowered it, and revealed her own smile. “So you’re just another adrenaline junkie.” She ran a finger around the base of her glass. “If it’s all about thrills and chills, why not just run cars around the track or jump out of planes?”

The work I did had been a factor in the breakup with Robin. Would we still be together if I’d settled for skydiving?

As I framed my answer, Allison said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I’m just guessing that you crave more than novelty. I think you really do like making things right.”

I didn’t answer.

“Then again,” she said, “who am I to utter pronouncements without a solid database? Being a behavioral scientist and all that.”

She shifted her bottom, tugged her hair, drank wine. I tried to smile away her discomfiture but couldn’t catch her eye. When she put her glass down, her hand landed closer to mine. Just a few millimeters between our