He wanted to ask why, but the question was so obvious, just hanging out there within easy view, that to voice it would be redundant.
'I am a constant reminder of his failures,' she continued.
'It's not easy for a man to live with that. We're supposed to be life partners, but I have what Jack longs for most.' Linda tilted her head. 'It's funny.'
'What?'
'l never allow mediocrity on the golf course. Yet I
allowed it to dominate my personal life. Don't you find that odd?'
Myron made a noncommittal motion with his head.
He could feel Linda's unhappiness radiating off her like a breaking fever. She looked up now and smiled at him.
The smile was intoxicating, nearly breaking his heart. He found himself wanting to lean over and hold Linda Coldren.
He felt this almost uncontrollable urge to press her against him and feel the sheen of her hair in his face. He tried to remember the last time he had held such thought for any woman but Jessica; no answer came to him.
'Tell me about you,' Linda suddenly said. .
The change of subject caught him off guard. He sort of shook his head. 'Boring stuff.'
'Oh, I doubt that,' she said, almost playfully. 'Come on now. It'll distract me.'
Myron shook his head again.
'I know you almost played pro basketball. I know you hurt your knee. I know you went to law school at Harvard.
And I know you tried to make a comeback a few months ago. Want to fill in the blanks?'
'That's pretty much it.'
'No, I don't think so, Myron. Aunt Cissy didn't say that you could help us because you were good at basketball.'
'I worked a bit for the govemment.'
'With Win?'
'Yes.'
'Doing what?'
Again he shook his head.
'Top secret, huh?'
'Something like that.'
'And you date Jessica Culver?'
'Yes.'
'I like her books.'
He nodded.
'Do you love her?'
'Very much.'
'So what do you want?'
'Want?'
'Out of life. What are your dreams?'
He smiled. 'You're kidding, right?'
'Just getting to the heart of the matter,' Linda said.
'Humor me. What do you want, Myron?' She looked at him with keen interest. Myron felt flushed.
'I want to marry Jessica. I want to move to the suburbs.
I want to raise a family.'
She leaned back as though satisfied. 'For real?'
'Yes.'
'Like your parents?'
'Yes.' `
She smiled. 'I think that's nice.'
'It's simple,' he said.
'Not all of us are built for the simple life,' she said, 'even if it's what we want.'
Myron nodded. 'Deep, Linda. I don't know what it means, but it sounded deep.'
'Me neither.' She laughed. It was deep and throaty and Myron liked the sound of it. ' 'Tell me where you met Win.'
'At college,' Myron said. 'Freshman year.'
'I haven't seen him since he was eight years old.'
Linda Coldren took a swallow of her seltzer. 'I was fifteen then. Jack and I had already been dating a year, believe it or not. Win loved Jack, by the way. Did you know that?'
'No,' Myron said.
'It's true. He followed Jack everywhere. And Jack could be such a prick back then. He bullied other kids. He was mischievous as all hell. At times he was downright cruel.'
'But you fell for him?'
'I was fifteen,' she said, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.
'What was Win like as a kid?' Myron asked.
She smiled again, the lines in the comers of her eyes and lips deepening. 'Trying to figure him out, eh?'
' 'Just curious,' Myron said, but the truth in her words stung. He suddenly wanted to withdraw the question, but it was too late.
' 'Win was never a happy kid. He was always' Linda stopped, searching for the word 'off I don't know how else to put it. He wasn't crazy or flaky or aggressive or anything like that. But something was not right with him.
Always. Even as a child, he had this strange ability to detach.'
Myron nodded. He knew what she meant.
'Aunt Cissy is like that too.'
'Win's mother'?'
Linda nodded. ''The woman can be pure ice when she wants to be. Even when it comes to Win. She acts as though he doesn't exist.'
'She must talk about him,' Myron said. 'To your father, at least.'
Linda shook her head. 'When Aunt Cissy told my father to contact Win, it was the first time she'd mentioned his name to him in years.'
Myron said nothing. Again the obvious question hung in the air unasked: What had happened between Win and his mother? But Myron would never voice it. This conversation had already gone too far. Asking would be an unforgivable betrayal; if Win wanted him to know, he'd tell him.
Time passed, but neither one of them noticed. They talked, mostly about Chad and the kind of son he was.
Jack had held on and still led by eight strokes. A gigantic lead. If he blew it this time, it would be worse than twenty-three years ago.
The tent began to empty out, but Myron and Linda stayed and talked some more. A feeling of intimacy began to warm him; he found it hard to breathe when he looked at her. For a moment he closed his eyes. Nothing, he realized, was really going on here. If there was an attraction of some sort, it was simply a classic case of damselin distress syndrome-and there was nothing less politically correct (not to mention Neanderthal) than that.
The crowd was gone now. For a long time nobody came into view. At one point, Win stuck his head into the tent. Seeing them together, he arched an eyebrow and then slipped back out.
Myron checked his watch. 'I have to go. I have an appointment? +
'With whom?'
'Tad Crispin.'
'Here at Merion?'
'Yes.'
