emotion and then a slipping away of self? Death might be like nothing so much as the final, profound orgasm.
Jake said, “You better drive me over to get my car from Fred. I need to go help some guy change his brake linings before I go into the warehouse.”
Mary had forgotten about Fred still having Jake’s car. She’d have to drive back to Angie’s apartment and drop off Jake before going to the title company. “How about getting dressed, then?” she said. “I need to get going.” She had plenty of time, really, but she could stop by the office and do some work before the closing.
He shrugged, scratched his crotch, and took a bite of sandwich. “Sho all right.” Chomp, chomp. Swallow. “Lemme finish my lunch and we’ll be on the road. Won’t take me long to get dressed to work in the warehouse. It ain’t like I meet the public. What you gonna do this evening while I’m working?”
“Dance lesson.”
“Yeah, it figures.”
“It does figure, Jake. If you don’t like it that I dance, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay with me, babe, long as it makes you happy and you don’t try talking me into dancing with you. I just can’t see myself tripping the light fantastic and all that shit, you know?”
“Do I try talking you into it?”
“Not anymore.” He grinned to let her know he was kidding, then said, “You still got that same swish instructor?”
“Same one,” Mary said. “He’s not gay, though.”
“Well, maybe not. But I seen some of them dance instructors that night I went out to the studio to pick you up last year. They look like hair stylists with muscles.”
“You’re a homophobe, Jake.”
“Which is what?”
“Never mind.”
Mary went into the bedroom and put on a clean skirt and blouse, then combed her hair and inserted her tortoiseshell barrette and clipped it tight. She checked her image in the mirror, turning her head quickly, as if to catch herself off guard and glimpse the true Mary. She decided she looked sufficiently businesslike to deal with real estate attorneys.
She phoned Angie to make sure Fred was at her place, then she drove Jake there. She pulled up to the curb and didn’t turn off the motor.
“Sure you ain’t got time to come up?” he asked.
“I’ve used too much time already. Angie understands. She won’t be insulted.”
He popped open the little car’s door, then worked his bulk out and stood on the bright sidewalk. Heat wafted into the car. Before shutting the door, he leaned down and peered in at her. The sun was hitting him square in the face, making him squint. “You sure you’re all right, babe? I mean, after last night?”
“You were gentle enough, Jake.”
He shot her a wicked smile. “More gentle than you like?”
“Shut the door, Jake. I’ve just gotta get to work.”
Still smiling, he slammed the door hard enough to jolt the car and give her a headache.
Hoping she wouldn’t need to buy some Tylenol, she watched him disappear into the sun-washed building before she drove away.
By the time she reached the corner her fingers were manipulating the radio’s pushbuttons, searching for dance music. Tango, if possible.
19
When she entered her office she was surprised to see Victor seated behind her desk, gazing up at her like a lonely puppy and smiling as she pushed through the door. His hair lay like a fallen gate over his bald spot, and his wire-rimmed round glasses snagged the sunlight and made his eyes look as human as flashlight lenses.
“Mary, how’s your mother?”
She placed her purse on a desk corner. “She’ll be all right, thanks. I thought you had floor time out at Suncrest subdivision today.”
He stood up out of her chair, tucking in his white shirt, then shrugged. There were yellow crescents beneath his armpits. “When I heard you couldn’t be in till noon, I thought you wouldn’t mind if I used your desk as a quiet place where I could catch up on my paperwork.”
“I mind, Victor.” He said nothing, acted as if she’d approved of his presence. She didn’t like the idea of Victor at her desk, able to search through the drawers. Not that she had anything to hide, but privacy meant something. It was like rape, having your personal belongings handled by a man you despised. She moved around to sit in her desk chair. It was still warm from Victor. She didn’t like that, either.
“You used my desk last month when I was away on vacation,” he pointed out.
He was right, but she said nothing. It had been Gordon Summers who’d instructed her to use Victor’s desk while her office was being painted.
“Buncha memos for you,” he said, pointing to the pink forms on her desk. “Not much important, really. Mr. Summers is still at the seminar in Chicago, and he asked for a copy of the Gratiot contract to be faxed to him. I took care of that.”
As he spoke he was staring at her intensely, making her uneasy. Why did she often attract men like Victor? She wished he’d leave her alone, that he wouldn’t bother trying to hide his bald spot, that he wouldn’t be so ordinary, that he had a chin. Mr. Nice. Mr. Stability. Mr. Monotony. Why wasn’t she ever attracted to men like Victor? Maybe because they were almost always like Victor.
“Where you going now?” she asked, trying to hurry him along, thinking, Go anywhere, please!
“Out to grab what’s left of that Suncrest floor time, I suppose.” The sales agents regarded floor time at the subdivisions as gold, where they had a virtual lock on any serious buyer who came along.
“Good luck out there,” Mary told him, with all her might willing him to leave.
“Thanks. I’ve got a couple of prospects from last time I was there. Gave them my card. Oh, by the way, I told Mr. Summers about your mother being sick.”
“What? Why’d you do that?”
“He asked why you didn’t answer the phone. Asked where you were. I mean, I’d of never brought up the subject at all if he hadn’t asked. Boss man asks, we gotta answer. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do know.” She also knew this was no time in her life to change jobs.
“You don’t mind if I said something about your mother, do you? I mean, worst can happen is Summers’ll send her flowers.”
“No, I don’t mind, Victor.” Leave! Leave!
“Was that your mother I saw you with at Uncle Bill’s Pancake House?”
My God, was he following her? “Probably,” Mary said.
“I go there sometimes after church. You a religious person, Mary?”
“No, but I’m a spiritual one.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I guess that I believe in something, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“Well, that’s better’n having no god at all.”
Mary bowed her head and pretended to study something on her desk. In the periphery of her vision she could see Victor’s stomach paunch and his gray suitpants. He hadn’t budged, and the front of his pants was twisted in a way that made her wonder if he had an erection.
He cleared his throat. “You need any kinda help with your mother, Mary, you know you can call on me.”
She stared harder at the papers on her desk, not even knowing or caring what they were. “Thanks, Victor, but everything’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
She said nothing more, letting the silence expand and fill the room with pressure that might force him out the door.
Victor deflated the silence. “Anytime.”
