I shrugged.
”Didn’t you?“ Susan said.
I shrugged again. She belted back the rest of the martini.
”Why?“
I gestured the bartender down. ”Another round,“ I said.
We were silent while he put the martini together and drew the beer and placed them before us.
”Got any peanuts,“ I said.
He nodded and brought a bowl up from under the bar. The place was almost deserted, a couple having a late lunch across the room, and four guys, who looked like they’d been golfing, drinking mixed drinks at a table behind us. Susan sipped at her second martini.
”How can you drink those things?“ I said. ”They taste like a toothache cure.“
”It’s how I prove I’m tough,“ she said.
”Oh,“ I said. I ate some of the peanuts. The voices of the golf foursome were loud. Full of jovial good fellowship like the voice of a game-show host. A little desperate.
”Millions of guys spend their lives that way,“ I said. ”Sitting around pretending to be a good fellow with guys they have nothing to say to.“
Susan nodded. ”Not just guys,“ she said.
”I always thought women did that better though,“ I said.
”Early training,“ Susan said, ”at being a phony, so men would like you. You going to answer my question?“
”About why I badgered Powell?“
”Uh huh.“ ‘You don’t give up easy, do you?”
“Un unh.”
“I don’t know exactly why I pushed him. He annoyed me sitting there, but it also seemed about the right move to make at the time.”
“To show Hawk you weren’t afraid?”
“No, I don’t think it impressed Hawk one way or the other. It was a gut reaction. A lot of what I do is a gut reaction. You’re a linear thinker, you want to know why and how come and what the source of the problem is and how to work out a solution to it. I assume it comes, in part, with being a guidance type.”
“You’re reversing the stereotype, you know,” Susan said.
“What? Women emotional, men rational? Yeah. But that was always horseshit anyway. Mostly, I think it’s just the opposite. In my case anyway. I don’t think in ABC order. I’ve gotten to be over forty and done a lot of things, and I’ve learned to trust my impulses usually. I tend to perceive in images and patterns and—what to call it—whole situations.”
“Gestalt,” Susan said.
“Whatever, so when you say why I feel like the best I can do is describe the situation. If I had a video tape of the situation I would point at it and say, ”See, that’s why.“
“
”Would you have done the same thing if I weren’t there?“
”You mean was I showing off?“ The bartender came down and looked at our glasses. I nodded and he took them away for refill. ”Maybe.“ The bartender brought the drinks back. ”Would you have hit someone with that beer bottle if I needed it?“
”You insufferable egotist,“ Susan said. ”Why don’t you think I picked the bottle up to defend myself?“
”You got me,“ I said. ”I never thought of that. Is that why you picked it up?“
”No,“ she said. ”And stop grinning like a goddamned idiot.“ She drank some of her third martini. ”Smug bastard,“ she said.
”You did it because I’m such terrific tail, didn’t you.“
”No,“ she said. The force of her face and eyes were on me. ”I did it because I love you.“
The couple across the room got up from the table and headed out. She was Clairol blond, her hair stiff and brittle, he was wearing white loafers and a matching belt. As they left the dining room their hands brushed and he took hers and held it. I drank the rest of my beer. Susan sipped at her martini. ”Traditionally,“ she said, ”the gentleman’s response to that remark is, ‘I love you too.’ “ She wasn’t looking at me now. She was studying the olive in the bottom of her martini.
”Suze,“ I said. ”Do we have to complicate it?“
”You can’t say the traditional thing?“
”It’s not saying ‘I love you,’ it’s what comes after.“
”You mean love and marriage, they go together like a horse and carriage?“
I shrugged. ”I don’t suppose they have to, I’ve seen a lot of marriages without love. I guess it could work the other way.“
Susan said, ”Urn hum“ and looked at me steadily again.
