“The poo-poo face?”
“That’s what I call it. The poo-poo face. It looks like this.”
Ali demonstrated. She pursed her lips, frowned, and batted her eyes.
“You look like Donald Trump being sprayed with mace.”
“That’s the poo-poo face. I get it all the time since Kevin died. I don’t blame anyone. It’s natural. But this woman with the poo-poo face comes up to me and she takes both of my hands in hers and looks me in the eyes and has this whole earnest thing going on so that I want to scream, and she says, ‘Are you Ali Wilder? Oh, I so wanted to contact you. How are you doing?’ You get the point.”
“I do.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“You’ve turned into the dating version of the poo-poo face.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“You keep telling me I’m beautiful.”
“You are.”
“You met me three times when I was married.”
Myron said nothing.
“Did you think I was beautiful then?”
“I try not to think that way about married women.”
“Do you even remember meeting me?”
“Not really, no.”
“And if I looked like Jessica Culver, even if I were married, you’d have remembered.”
She waited.
“What do you want me to say here, Ali?”
“Nothing. But it’s time to stop treating me like the poo-poo face. It doesn’t matter why you first started dating me. It matters why you’re here now.”
“Can I do that?”
“Do what?”
“Can I tell you why I’m here now?”
Ali swallowed and for the first time she looked unsure of herself. She made a go-ahead gesture with her hand.
He dove in. “I’m here because I really like you — because I may be confused about a lot of things and maybe you’re making a good point about the poo-poo face, but the fact is, I’m here right now because I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about you all the time and when I do, I have this goofy smile on my face. It looks like this.” Now it was his turn to demonstrate. “So that’s why I’m here, okay?”
“That,” Ali said, trying to hold back a smile, “is a really good answer.”
He was about to crack wise, but he held back. With maturity comes restraint.
“Myron?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to kiss me. I want you to hold me. I want you to take me upstairs and make love to me. I want you to do it with no expectations because I don’t have any. I could dump you tomorrow and you could dump me. It doesn’t matter. But I’m not fragile. I’m not going to describe the hell of the past five years, but I’m stronger than you’ll ever know. If this relationship continues after tonight, you’re the one who’ll have to be strong, not me. This is a no-obligation offer. I know how valiant and noble you want to be. But I don’t want that. All I want tonight is you.”
Ali leaned toward him and kissed him on the lips. First gently then with more hunger. Myron felt a surge go through him.
She kissed him again. And Myron felt lost.
An hour later — or maybe it was only twenty minutes — Myron collapsed and rolled onto his back.
“Well?” Ali said.
“Wow.”
“Tell me more.”
“Let me catch my breath.”
Ali laughed, snuggled closer.
“My limbs,” he said. “I can’t feel my limbs.”
“Not a thing?”
“A little tingle maybe.”
“Not so little. And you were pretty good yourself.”
“As Woody Allen once said, I practice a lot when I’m alone.”
She put her head on his chest. His racing heart started to slow. He stared at the ceiling.
“Myron?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll never leave my life. He’ll never leave Erin and Jack either.”
“I know.”
“Most men can’t handle that.”
“I don’t know if I can either.”
She looked at him and smiled.
“What?”
“You’re being honest,” she said. “I like that.”
“No more poo-poo face?”
“Oh, I wiped that off twenty minutes ago.”
He pursed his lips, frowned, and batted his eyes. “But wait, it’s back.”
She put her head back on his chest.
“Myron?”
“Yes?”
“He’ll never leave my life,” she said. “But he’s not here now. Right now I think it’s just the two of us.”
CHAPTER 6
On the third floor of St. Barnabas Medical Center, Essex County investigator Loren Muse rapped on a door that read edna skylar, md, geneticist.
A woman’s voice said, “Come in.”
Loren turned the knob and entered. Skylar stood. She was taller than Loren, but most people were. Skylar crossed the room, hand extended. They both offered up firm handshakes and plenty of eye contact. Edna Skylar nodded in a sisterhood way to her. Loren had seen it before. They were both in professions still dominated by men. That gave them a bond.
“Won’t you please have a seat?”
They both sat. Edna Skylar’s desk was immaculate. There were manila folders, but they were stacked without any papers peeking out. The office was standard issue, dominated by a picture window that offered up a wonderful view of a parking lot.
Dr. Skylar stared intently at Loren Muse. Loren didn’t like it. She waited a moment. Skylar kept staring.
Loren said, “Problem?”
Edna Skylar smiled. “Sorry, bad habit.”
“What’s that?”
“I look at faces.”
“Uh-huh.”
