He checked his phone and stared at the three e-mails from Leslie Hollander. The first was a request to let her know when he’d be back in Kabul. The second was a question about whether or not he’d received her e-mail.
The third was a question about why he was ignoring her, and said that if he replied she’d set up another session in which she would, as she carefully put it, fuck him until he was walking bowlegged like a cowboy.
Leslie worked in the press office of the public-affairs department of the U.S. Embassy, first assigned to the embassy in Islamabad and then to the one in Kabul. She was twenty-seven years old, very lean, with dark hair and glasses. At first glance, Moore had dismissed her as an uptight geek whose virginity would remain intact until some pale-faced overweight accountant (the male version of her) came along and wrested it from her after a two-hour argument in which the process of sex was analyzed and discussed, the position agreed on, the act both clinical and upsetting to both.
But, dear God, once the glasses and the blouse came off, Ms. Hollander revealed the remarkable contradiction between her appearance and what really lurked in her heart. Moore was overwhelmed by their sexual escapades when he could escape to the city for a weekend and stay with her; however, he already knew the ending of this movie, and the screenwriter had run out of ideas: Guy tells girl job is too important and he must break off their relationship. Guy has to leave town for work, doesn’t know when he’ll return. This will never work out.
Interestingly enough, he’d explained all of that to her during their first dinner together, that he needed her as a source of information and that if anything came out of that, then they could explore the possibilities, but his career at the moment prevented any long-term or serious relationship.
“Okay,” she’d said.
Moore had nearly choked on his beer.
“Do you think I’m a slut?”
“No.”
“Well, I am.”
He’d smirked. “No, you just know how to manipulate men.”
“How am I doing?”
“Very well, but you don’t have to work so hard.”
“Hey, man, look where we are. Not one of the top ten places to have fun, right? Not the happiest place on earth. So it’s up to us. We bring the fun.”
It was that positive attitude on life coupled with her sense of humor that made her seem much more mature and utterly attractive to Moore. But the credits were rolling. The popcorn bag was empty. The lights were coming on, and their good thing was over. Should he just tell her that in an e-mail, the way he had at least two women before her? He wasn’t sure. He felt like he owed her more than that. Some of them were quick flings. And a brief note had been enough. He always took the blame. Always said it wasn’t fair to them. He’d go a year without a relationship, even resort to paying for sex because the efficiency and convenience were exactly what a man like him needed. And then, once in a while, a Leslie would come along and make him second-guess everything.
He dialed her at work and held his breath as the phone rang.
“Hey, stud,” she said. “No satellite service? You see, I’m trying to let you off here. Feed you an excuse …”
“I got your e-mails. Sorry I didn’t get back.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the airport, getting ready to get on a plane.”
“To where? The place you can’t tell me?”
“Leslie, they’re pulling me out of here. I really don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Not funny.”
“I’m not kidding.”
Silence.
“Are you there?”
“Yeah,” she said. “So, uh, was this sudden? Did you know about it? We could’ve gotten together. You didn’t let me say good-bye.”
“You know I’ve been out of town. There wouldn’t have been any time. I’m sorry.”
“Well, this sucks.”
“I know.”
“Maybe I’ll just quit my job and follow you around.”
He almost smiled. “You’re not a stalker.”
“Really? I guess you’re right. So what am I supposed to do now?”
“We’ll stay in touch.”
A moment of awkward silence, just the hum from the connection. Moore’s shoulders drew together …and then it was more difficult to breathe.
He closed his eyes and heard her cry in his head:
“I think I was starting to fall in love with you,” she blurted out, her voice cracking.
“No, you weren’t. Look, we were just in it for the fun. You wanted it that way. And I told you this day would come. But you’re right. It sucks. Big-time.” He softened his tone. “I want to stay in touch. But it’s up to you. If it hurts too much, then okay, I respect that. You can do better than me, anyway. Get somebody younger, with fewer obligations.”
“Yeah, whatever. We played with fire and we got burned. But it felt so good along the way.”
“You know, I’m not sure I can do this again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Say good-bye, I guess.”
“No more relationships for you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hey, remember how you told me I was helping you with the nightmares? When I told you the stories of when I was in college while you were trying to fall asleep?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t forget that, okay?”
“Of course I won’t.”
“I hope you can sleep,” she said.
“I hope so, too.”
“I wish you would’ve told me what’s bothering you. Maybe I could’ve helped even more.”
“That’s okay. I’m feeling much better now. Thanks for that.”
“Thanks for the sex.”
He chuckled under his breath. “You make it sound so dirty.”
She breathed heavily into the phone and said, “It was.”
“You’re a crazy bitch.”
“You, too.”
He hesitated. “I’ll talk to you soon. Take care.” He closed his eyes and broke the connection.
Moore gritted his teeth. He should walk away from this gate and go back to her and haul her out of that job and quit his, and they could start a life together.
And in six months he’d be bored out of his mind.
And in eight months they’d be divorced and he’d be blaming her and hating himself all over again.
The boarding announcement came. Moore stood with the other passengers and started halfheartedly toward the agent accepting their tickets.
8 JORGE’S SHADOW
