She said, ”Erikson’s biography of Gandhi.“
I said, ”I’ve always liked Leif’s work.“
She looked at the bourbon bottle, four ounces gone, and opened the door. I went in.
”You don’t look good,“ she said.
”You guidance types don’t miss a trick, do you?“
”Would it help if I kissed you?“
”Yeah, but not yet. I been throwing up. I need a shower. Then maybe we could sit down and talk and I’ll drink the Wild Turkey.“
”You know where,“ she said. I put the bourbon down on the coffee table in the living room and headed down the little hall to the bathroom. In the linen closet beside the bathroom was a shaving kit of mine with a toothbrush and other necessaries. I got it out and went into the bathroom. I brushed and showered and rinsed my mouth under the shower and soaped and scrubbed and shampooed and lathered and rinsed and washed for about a half an hour.
Out, out, damned spot.
When I got through, I toweled off and put on some tennis shorts I’d left there and went looking for Susan. The stereo was off, and she was on the back porch with my Wild Turkey, a bucket of ice, a glass, a sliced lemon, and a bottle of bitters.
I sat in a blue wicker armchair and took a long pull from the neck of the bottle.
”Were you bitten by a snake?“ Susan said.
I shook my head. Beyond the screen porch the land sloped down in rough terraces to a stream. On the terraces were shade plants. Coleus, patient Lucy, ajuga, and a lot of vincas. Beyond the stream were trees that thickened into woods.
”Would you like something to eat?“
I shook my head again. ”No,“ I said. ”Thank you.“
”Drinking bourbon instead of beer, and declining a snack. It’s bad, isn’t it?“
I nodded. ”I think so,“ I said.
”Would you like to talk about it?“
”Yeah,“ I said, ”but I don’t quite know what to say.“
I put some ice in the glass, added bitters and a squeeze of lemon, and filled the glass with bourbon. ”You better drink a little,“ I said. ”I’ll be easier to take if you’re a little drunk too.“
She nodded her head. ”Yes, I was thinking that,“ she said. ”I’ll get another glass.“ She did, and I made her a drink.
In front of the house some kids were playing street hockey and their voices drifted back faintly. Birds still sang here and there in the woods, but it was beginning to get dark and the songs were fewer.
”How long ago did you get divorced?“ I asked.
”Five years.“
”Was it bad?“
”Yes.“
”Is it bad now?“
”No. I don’t think about it too much now. I don’t feel bad about myself anymore. And I don’t miss him at all anymore. You have some part in all of that.“
”Mr. Fixit,“ I said. My drink was gone and I made another.
said.
”How does someone who ingests as much as you do get those muscle ridges in his stomach?“ Susan said.
”God chose to make me beautiful instead of good,“ I ”How many sit-ups do you do a week?“
”Around a zillion,“ I said. I stretched my legs out in front of me and slid lower in the chair. It had gotten dark outside and some fireflies showed in the evening. The kids out front had gone in, and all I could hear was the sound of the stream and very faintly the sound of traffic on 128.
”There is a knife blade in the grass,“ I said. ”And a tiger lies just outside the fire.“
”My God, Spenser, that’s bathetic. Either tell me about what hurts or don’t. But for crissake, don’t sit here and quote bad verse at me.“
”Oh damn,“ I said. ”I was just going to swing into Hamlet.“
”You do and I’ll call the cops.“
”Okay,“ I said. ”You’re right. But bathetic? That’s hard, Suze.“
She made herself another drink. We drank. There was no light on the porch, just that which spilled out from the kitchen.
”I killed two guys earlier this evening,“ I said.
”Have you ever done that before?“
