I tried to wake her up, but she only moaned a little and, if anything, fell deeper into unconsciousness. Not knowing what else to do, I turned to go, and found Susan in the doorway, looking at me with an expression that seemed puzzled and not entirely happy. I held my smile until I should know what she was about. She didn’t waste any time telling me.
“What have you been doing to Jill?” she said. She looked right at me, her voice and expression without fear or compromise, and I felt the way I suppose the lion feels when confronted by his trainer with whip and chair.
Yet, despite the horrible plunging sensation in my chest, and the odd tingling at the bottoms of my feet and in my palms, I determined not to give up anything more than necessary. I said, “What do you mean?”
“Jill,” she said, “has been lying here all day, hardly waking up for more than five or ten minutes, and she’s been calling your name and moaning.”
“Perhaps,” I said, “she misses me.”
“She’s been moaning ‘no, Jack, please don’t.’ Does that sound like she misses you?”
It came to me that I’d been hearing those very words, in her voice, while I was sleeping. In my dreams I had thought it slightly amusing; now I did not. I groped for a reply, and finally settled on asking “Could she mean, please don’t go?”
“I think not,” said Susan, biting out the words one at a time. She was still looking at me in a manner that was nearly accusing.
My temper began to rise, and I had an almost overpowering urge to take Susan right then, whatever her desires; almost overpowering, not quite. I don’t know what it was that held me back, but for a moment things hung in the balance, and in that time I think Susan saw a side of me I had not intended to show her. At any rate, she took a step backward and watched me the way one might watch a dog whose disposition has not been ascertained.
But this time, the dog only bristled a little. I regained composure, and Susan regained her puzzled look, and she seemed to shake herself as if she weren’t quite certain what it was that she almost saw.
I said, “I can hardly be responsible for her delirium. Have you consulted a doctor?”
She frowned. “No. Do you think I should?”
“Does she seem sick?”
“Look at her.”
“Well, then perhaps calling a doctor would be more productive than accusing me of I know not what crimes against your roommate.”
She took a couple of deep breaths, then nodded. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said. “I’m worried about Jill.”
“Yes. As far as I can tell, you have reason to be.”
“Then should I-?”
“Yes. If she’s still like this tomorrow, I’d call a doctor.”
“Tomorrow?”
“You could do it now, if you’re worried, but I should give it another day.”
She nodded, and I think what had really been bothering her was that she hadn’t quite known what to do with a roommate as sick as Jill apparently was, nor had she had anyone to ask. “Wait another day, you think?” she said again, as if for more reassurance.
“That’s what I’d do, unless she seems to be getting worse.”
“Okay,” she said, relaxing as the decision was made. “That’s what I’ll do.”
Now I frowned. “You look a little pale yourself. Have you eaten today?”
She blinked, as if it were a question that would never have occurred to her. “You know, I don’t believe I have. Are you hungry?”
“No, but I can keep you company. Where shall we go?”
She smiled, and she was the Susan I knew again. “Out,” she said, swinging her arms.
“Shhhh. Don’t wake patient.”
She lowered her voice, but said, “I doubt that I could.”
I led the way. As we locked the front door behind us, she said, “How do you keep getting in without my knowing it? Did Jill give you a key without mentioning it to me?”
“Trade secret,” I said.
“What trade is that? Cat burglar?”
“Yes, although I prefer the technical term.”
“What’s that?”
“Music promoter.”
She laughed. “You aren’t really a promoter, are you?”
“No, I’m afraid not. If I were, I’d give you a contract.”
“I don’t doubt that a bit,” she said.
The wind was fierce, so I sheltered her with my body. It’s funny, but there is a kind of intimacy that vanishes along with one’s clothes, and that can sometimes become stronger as more layers are added. Walking beneath the new moon, huddling against the wind and the occasional streetlights, I almost felt as if we were a single person, intertwining our emotions with our hair, her breath steaming around our heads.
She said, “There’s something fey about you, you know.”
“Fey?” I laughed. “I’ve never been called fey before.”
“You haven’t? I’m surprised.”
“I must say I prefer it to some of the things I have been called.”
She chuckled into the collar of my coat. “Don’t tell me,” she said, her voice muffled. The top of her head looked very charming that way.
“I shan’t.”
We found a restaurant called the Nawlins, which was a storefront with too many tables and not enough waiters for the space, and I bought her some shrimp Creole and a beer, which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. After the beer she switched to coffee, and I joined her with my usual half-cup. She seemed to think that was funny.
She asked about my love life, which threw me for a bit, but I ended up telling her about Kellem, although in general terms and not by name. Susan thinks Kellem is very frightened, and wants a man to make her feel secure, but is afraid to trust anyone enough to make a difference. I almost laughed at this, and then I began wondering if there wasn’t some truth in it. I still wonder.
We drifted onto other subjects, and I cannot for the life of me remember what we talked about, but we suddenly noticed that everyone else had left and the busboy, a college-aged kid who’d gone to the Art Garfunkel school of hair fashion, was giving us significant looks. I left an extra tip for his trouble and helped Susan with her coat.
“Back home?” I said. “Or is there somewhere else worth going?”
“I wish it were summer so we could walk along the lakeshore.”
“We can anyway. Stand on the rocks and watch the waves crash while the wind-”
“Freezes our cute little behinds off. No thanks.”
“You have no trace of romance in you,” I said.
She smiled at me. “Wanna bet?”
“Right. Home then.”
We made it in spite of the powdered snow that the wind threw into our faces, though my hands were thoroughly chilled. When we got inside, I said, “You’re going to have to warm me up.”
“Let’s check on Jill, first,” she said.
“All right.”
So we did, and decided that she seemed to be breathing a little easier, though she still didn’t wake up. Then I took Susan’s hand and led her into the bedroom.
All right, yeah, she did have some romance in her, after all.
