we'd both die of embarrassment.'
'What did you do?'
'I finally just kind of patted him on the shoulder. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say much of anything. It will be hard to look at him next time.'
'If two women had that intimate a conversation, they would become closer.'
'We're not two women. We're not even one woman.'
'You're making progress. He's an easy man to confide in. '
'Yes, and that's a curious thing. He is easy to confide in. He's very warm, he's so open, so eager, he kind of shames you into being as open as he is… I don't know why I don't like him more.'
'He must like you a lot to talk to you about his wife like that. That can't be easy for him.'
'Is there some hidden agenda in all of this, Karen? Is there some reason you want me to be friends with Kom other than your natural compassion?'
Karen sighed. 'I told you-you have not had a real male friend since I've known you, except for Tee. You have some men you're friendly with, you have some acquaintances whom you don't mind too much, but you don't talk to any of them as far as I can figure out. Even with Teedo you know his daughter's birthday?'
'Why would I need to know that?'
'Does he know what grade Jack is in?'
'The point being?'
'You've exchanged more intimate conversation with Stanley in one lunch than you have with Tee in a decade. You told him about your feelings when you killed those people, for heaven's sake. It took years before you would talk about that with me.'
'He does sort of elicit a response.'
'He will do you good, John. He can give you a man's point of view about things, not just an attitude but his honest feelings. He can empathize with you in a way I,can't because I'm a woman. He can give you an outlet to really talk about your emotions because he's clearly not afraid to have emotions, and that's so refreshing, I can't tell you.'
'Maybe you should be his friend,' Becker said. 'You poor thing, you work among men all day and you come home at night and all you have to talk to is me.'
Becker put his hand on her bicep and worked it under the sleeve of the T-shirt she wore to sleep in.
'Sweetheart, I already am his friend,' said Karen. 'We're talking about you.'
'When did you become his friend?'
'As soon as he told me how much he liked you. That's all the recommendation I need.' She lifted the sheet with a sweep of her hand and moved across the bed until she was pressing against him. Becker thought of pointing out that by her own logic, she should also be fast friends with Tovah by now, but when she put her fingers on his body he thought better of it.
10
Captain Luv waited for his victim in the parking lot of the Grand Union supermarket where she worked. He had met her at the checkout counter, flirted with her the first time as they waited for a supervisor to fix her register, then returned over a period of months, each time to her checkout line, each time exchanging a smile and a few words. Seductions like this took time but he was in no hurry. He heard other employees talk to her, learned tidbits about her life, gathered an impression bolstered by fragmentary facts, and in the process became a familiar face to her, one that she would connect with a smile and a friendly word.
In the past few weeks he had intensified his routine. He came by the supermarket almost daily, driving the extra miles to Ridgefield just to see her and put in his few minutes at her register. He began to buy more groceries so that he could have a longer time with her, abandoning the food in the shopping cart when he was out of her sight in the parking lot. He considered it a small price to pay for seduction, cheaper than flowers and restaurant meals, and worth the cost because thus far he was untraceable. Whatever romance he had kindled in her was not the kind she would mention to her friends. No one had ever seen them together. Their relationship was a secret between them, one completely unspoken and indeed not even fully recognized by her. But Captain Luv knew of her fantasies. That was his calling.
In the past month he had begun to ask her advice about food, how to cook certain vegetables, which meats kids might like, establishing himself as a man who did the cooking, a devoted father caring for children with an eye to their nutrition, a responsible man coping, but barely, with duties of single parenthood but lost with the mysteries of fennel bulbs and short ribs. His very selection of produce made him interesting to her. He was game but ignorant, willing to take risks, but manageable ones, domestic chances. She was also a single parent-a fact he had ascertained during his research period-and before long they shared a moment or two daily confiding their mutual love of their kids, the frustrations and exasperations-and plain hard work-of raising them alone.
By the time Captain Luv made his initial move, she felt she already knew him. She could not have said precisely how, but they had become friends. When he failed to come shopping for a week at a time, she found herself vaguely unsettled that he was not there, wondering if anything had happened to him or his children. When he reappeared in the market, he waved to her while still among the aisles and she found that she could hardly wait for him to appear before her, his latest purchases in hand, each slightly and intriguingly out of the ordinary. 'Hi, Denise,' said Captain Luv, smiling warmly. 'It's nice to see you again.'
'I thought you'd given up eating for a while,' said Denise. Her pale gray eyes were slightly hooded by the folds of her eyelids, giving her a coy and coquettish look. It was what had attracted Captain Luv to her in the first place, the suggestion of an easy, indiscriminate seductiveness on her part. He had quickly realized that the eyes were not the mirror of the soul in this case, and that Denise was shy and naive, but by then it did not matter. He had decided to have her, eventually, and Captain Luv did not give up easily. 'I had a little problem at home,' said Captain Luv, the smile fading into concern. 'With the kids.'
'Oh, are they all right?' Denise asked, her voice quickened with concern.
'Oh, yeah, it's nothing physical, it's just… I don't always know how to deal with their-emotional problems. Especially my daughter. It's just hard to do it all alone sometimes.'
'I know,' said Denise. 'I know.'
'Do you ever have that problem with Charlie?' Luv asked, knowing that she would be impressed that he remembered her son's name. It was an idea she had given him several months before, mentioning her difficulties parenting a boy without a father figure. She would regard his problem as one she could sympathize with, not a mirror image of her own.
'Oh, yes. It's very difficult. They need a parent of the same sex, I don't care what you say.' Luv sighed in pain and frustration.
'I could really use someone to talk to,' he said.
Denise glanced at the small line growing behind him, several of them already beginning to look impatient about so much conversation. She wished they would go away and let her talk to this sweet and troubled man.
'Sometimes I think I can't just keep doing it alone,' Luv said. 'They're wonderful kids and I love them so much, but I have to ask myself, am I doing absolutely all I can for them? Am I doing it right?'
'You are,' Denise said, longing to touch his hand. 'I know you are.' He smiled the saddest smile.
'It makes me feel better just to talk to you about it,' he said. He offered her his wistful smile, knowing the effect it would have.
The first woman in line behind Luv had unloaded as much of her groceries as would fit on the conveyer belt. She stood with can in hand, wavering impatiently over the belt, waiting for Denise to advance the column. The customers behind her were stirring restlessly.
'I–I get off work at eight,' Denise said, half whispering. 'If you're around, we could talk some more.'
'I'd like that,' said Luv, feigning happy surprise. 'That would be great.'
'Can you manage with the kids?'
'I'll get a sitter,' said Luv. He started to move off with his bag of groceries, then paused to shyly waggle his fingers at her. Glancing self-consciously at the other customers, Denise lifted a hand in response and gently moved
