”And booze,“ Susan said.
”That too,“ I said. ”In case the food runs out you can starve to death happy.“
I opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Amstel. ”Want a drink?“ Both Susan and Pam said no. I opened the beer and drank some from the bottle.
”There’s some bread and cheese and eggs in the refrigerator. There’s quite a bit of meat in the freezer. It’s labeled. And Syrian bread. There’s coffee in the cupboard here.“ I opened the cupboard door. ”Peanut butter, rice, canned tomatoes, flour, so forth. We can get you some vegetables and stuff later. You can make a list of what else you need.“
I showed her the bathroom and the bedroom. ”The sheets are clean.“ I said. ”The person changes them each week, and she was here yesterday. You will need clothes and things.“ She nodded. ”Why don’t you make a list of food and clothes and toiletries and whatever that you need and Suze and I will go out and get them for you.“ I gave her a pad and pencil. She sat at the kitchen counter to write. While she did I talked at her. ”When we leave,“ I said, ”stay in here, Don’t answer the door. I’ve got a key and Suze has a key and no one else has. So you won’t have to open the door for us and no one else has reason to come here. Don’t go out.“
”What are you going to do?“ she asked.
”I don’t know,“ I said. ”I’ll have to think about it.“
”I think maybe I’ll have that drink you offered,“ she said.
”Okay, what would you like?“
”Scotch and water?“
”Sure.“
I made her the drink, lots of ice, lots of Scotch, a dash of water. She sipped it while she finished her list.
When she gave it to me she also offered me her money.
”No,“ I said. ”You may need it. I’ll keep track of all this and when it’s over I’ll give you a bill.“
She nodded. ”If you want more Scotch,“ I said, ”you know where it is.“
Susan and I went out to shop. At the Prudential Center on Boylston Street we split up. I went into the Star Market for food and she went up to the shopping mall for clothes and toiletries. I was quicker with the food than she was with her part and I had to hang around for a while on the plaza by the funny statue of Atlas or Prometheus or whoever he was supposed to be. Across the way a movie house was running an action-packed double feature: The Devil in Miss Jones and Deep Throat. They don’t make them like they used to. Whatever happened to Ken Maynard and his great horse, Tarzan? I looked some more at the statue. It looked like someone had done a takeoff on Michelangelo, and been taken seriously. Did Ken Maynard really have a great horse named Tarzan? If Ken were still working, his great horse would probably be named Bruce and be a leather freak. A young woman went by wearing a white T-shirt and no bra. On the T-shirt was stenciled TONY’S PX, GREAT FALLS, MONTANA. I was watching her walk away when Susan arrived with several ornate shopping bags.
”That a suspect?“ Susan said.
”Remember I’m a licensed law officer. I was checking whether those cut-off jeans were of legal length.“
”Were they?“
”I don’t think so.“ I picked up groceries and one of Susan’s shopping bags and we headed for the car. When we got home Pam Shepard was sitting by the front window looking out at Marlborough Street. She hadn’t so far as I could see done anything else except perhaps freshen her drink. It was five o’clock and Susan agreed to join Pam for a drink while I made supper. I pounded some lamb steaks I’d bought for lamb cutlets. Dipped them in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. When they were what Julia Child calls nicely coated I put them aside and peeled four potatoes. I cut them into little egg-shaped oblongs, which took a while, and started them cooking in a little oil, rolling them around to get them brown all over. I also started the cutlets in another pan. When the potatoes were evenly browned I covered them, turned down the heat and left them to cook through. When the cutlets had browned, I poured off the fat, added some Chablis and some fresh mint, covered them and let them cook. Susan came out into the kitchen once to make two new drinks. I made a Greek salad with feta cheese and ripe olives and Susan set the table while I took the lamb cutlets out of the pan and cooked down the wine. I shut off the heat, put in a lump of unsalted butter, swirled it through the wine essence and poured it over the cutlets. With the meal we had warm Syrian bread and most of a half gallon of California Burgundy. Pam Shepard told me it was excellent and what a good cook I was.
”I never liked it all that much,“ Pam said. ”When I was a kid my mother never wanted me in the kitchen. She said I’d be messy. So when I got married I couldn’t cook anything.“
Susan said, ”I couldn’t cook, really, when I got married either.“
”Harv taught me,“ Pam said. ”I think he kind of liked to cook, but…“ She shrugged. ”That was the wife’s job. So I did it. Funny how you cut yourself off from things you like because of… of nothing. Just convention, other people’s assumptions about what you ought to be and do.“
”Yet often they are our own assumptions, aren’t they,“ Susan said. ”I mean where do we get our assumptions about how things are or ought to be? How much is there really a discrete identifiable self trying to get out?“ I drank some Burgundy.
”I’m not sure I follow,“ Pam said.
”It’s the old controversy,“ Susan said. ”Nature-nurture. Are you what you are because of genetics or because of environment? Do men make history or does history make men?“
Pam Shepard smiled briefly. ”Oh yes, nature-nurture, Child Growth and Development, Ed. 103. I don’t know, but I know I got shoved into a corner I didn’t want to be in.“ She drank some of her wine, and held her glass toward the bottle. Not fully liberated. Fully liberated you pour the wine yourself. Or maybe the half-gallon bottle was too heavy. I filled her glass. She looked at the wine a minute. ”So did Harvey,“ she said.
”Get shoved in a corner?“ Susan said.
”Money?“ Susan asked.
”No, not really. Not money exactly. It was more being important, being a man that mattered, being a man that
