later we were heading back through the city, over the Ashley River and out to the coast. It was a good drive across miles of marshlands dotted with small wooded islands, and I could imagine what it had been like before growth, the scourge of our time, had turned too much of it into a long, continuous suburb.
Folly Beach is a little town with a few flashing neon blocks, a shooting gallery, a game room, pavilion, and rides. The carnival atmosphere disappeared at once as I turned south into the night. I found a place to park and we kicked off our shoes and went barefoot in the moonlight along the edge of the surf. The wind was strong and a little cold for the season; Erin curled her hand into mine and drew herself close. I draped my coat around us like a cocoon, she snuggled against me, we stood wrapped together like that, and at some point I lifted her chin and kissed her. She pulled us tighter and I buried my face in her hair. My old heart was going a mile a minute.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she said. “We can never be friendly antagonists again.”
“I thought that was pretty friendly, actually.”
“Yes, but now what are we going to do about it?”
“That’s a tough one. The answers can range all the way from nothing…”
“…to everything.”
“The prospects boggle the mind.”
“But how to decide? Do we take a vote?”
“That would be pointless without some way of breaking a tie.”
“I’ve never been much for casual sex,” she volunteered airily.
“At the same time, I’m not getting any younger.”
“Are you having trouble with your, uh…”
“No, I’m fine as of today. But the male body was not made for endless periods of celibacy. Deep, unexpected flabbiness can occur.”
“Maybe I’d better talk faster.”
I had to laugh at that.
She said, “If we eliminate casual sex, where are we?”
“Sounds almost like we’d have to get serious.”
“If that turned out to be the case, what would you say?”
“What do you want me to say, I love you?”
“Not unless it’s true.”
“That’s my point. If I did say that…”
“Yes?”
“How would you know it’s not just some scuzzy male ploy to get my way with you?”
“I’ve got pretty good vibes.”
“Experience will give you that.”
“I
“Still, you must have some way of—”
“Forty days and forty nights.”
I took that under advisement, then said, “I’ll bet there’s a clue there somewhere.”
“Once we reach a certain point, we take forty days and forty nights to get to know each other. But back to the original question: If you did say ‘I love you,’ how would
“Sure. Once.”
“What was she like?”
“A lot like you, actually. Not as crazy but very quick. Smart as a whip.”
“What happened?”
“My performance left something to be desired.”
“Well, since we’ve already established that you’re not physically challenged, I take it you were being your usual boorish and dictatorial self.”
“Okay.”
“That’s not something you can answer okay to, Janeway. Either you were or you weren’t.”
“I didn’t trust her.”
“That’s a biggie. Oh, that’s very big. You don’t ever want to let that happen again.”
“I’ll try,” I said, but I couldn’t help thinking how often history repeats itself.
