“Why should I? You can light a cigarette if you like.”
He sighed and reached into his pocket. I liked his cigarette case, plain silver, not even engraved. In my world, you monogrammed everything. The missing stamp of ownership seemed a modest touch. Not that I wanted to count Doctor Paul’s virtues at the moment.
He held out the case to me. I shook my head. He lit himself up and leaned against the wall, right next to the vivid blue and tangled arms of my favorite Matisse print.
The room was too warm. I took off my jacket and tossed it on top of Aunt Violet’s suitcase. “What did you say to Gogo?”
“What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me anything. She never came back to the office.”
He swore softly. “I was kind, Vivian. I tried so hard to be kind.”
“Did you break things off?”
“Christ, Vivian. What else could I do? I couldn’t be dishonest.”
I slid down the wall and sat with my knees pressed against my forehead. I saw her face before they left for lunch, her tremulous adoration. “Oh, God. Poor Gogo.”
“Vivian—”
“Leave. Just leave.”
“Vivian, you’re laboring under a complete misapprehension. I don’t know where Margaux got this absurd notion that I wanted to marry her—”
“Two guesses.”
“I did not lead her on, Vivian. We went on a few dates, that’s all.”
I looked up. I knew my eyes were red, and I didn’t care. “You had an affair last summer! You moved to New York to be with her!”
“Not true. We had some fun—”
“Oh, fun again.”
“Your word, remember? Only this time that’s all it was. She was with her family. I was staying with friends. I took her out to dinner, to the beach. It was nothing.”
“Did you kiss her?”
He found the ashtray on the footstool that served as my nightstand. “Once or twice.”
“Anything more?”
“Maybe a little.” He picked up the ashtray and concentrated on tapping his cigarette just so.
“She says you were madly in love. On the hook.”
“Well, I’m sorry for that. I thought it was a little lighthearted vacation flirtation. I liked her tremendously; she’s a sweet girl.”
“A beautiful girl.”
“All right, yes. She’s beautiful. What of it?”
“You moved to New York.”
“Vivian, I’d already accepted the offer here. She had nothing to do with it.”
“But you picked right up where you left off.”
“Vivian, it wasn’t serious. I swear it wasn’t. We dated, that’s all. I hardly knew anyone else in the city. How was I supposed to know I’d meet you a few weeks later?” He finished the cigarette and started another. I reached over before he closed the case and took one. He lit me up in silence, and I saw how drawn he looked, how shattered.
“It was serious to her,” I said.
“Well, I was beginning to realize that. I tried to draw away. I didn’t want to hurt her, Vivian.”
Well, it fit, didn’t it? And I couldn’t blame him. He’d done nothing wrong, really, except he’d failed to fall in love with a girl; and whose fault was that? He hadn’t failed willfully. He hadn’t failed with cruel intent. It was just the breaks. I sat down on the corner of the bed, next to Aunt Violet’s suitcase, with my back toward Paul. The old mattress sagged beneath me. The cigarette burned quietly between my fingers, and I stared at the wall, which Pepper had helped me paint a cheerful daffodil yellow the very day I’d moved in.
“Could you open the window?” I asked.
The wood scraped obediently behind me. A rush of cool air swirled against my blouse. I felt the mattress sink behind me, and I closed my eyes as Paul’s hand touched my shoulder. “I was going to break things off anyway, Vivian. It was inevitable. I should have done it sooner, but I hated to hurt her like that. I regret deeply that she’s hurt, that I hurt her, but what could I do? Lie to her instead?”
“She would have been perfect for you.”
“No, she wouldn’t. That’s not the marriage I want. Yes, you’re right, she’s sweet and beautiful. She’ll make someone a wonderful wife, but not me.”
“Why not?”
His sigh blew against my neck. “Vivian, she’s not you. I don’t mean to be cruel, but she bored me. We never talked about anything important. In the months I knew her, we didn’t share a fraction of what you and I shared in a single hour on Saturday. She doesn’t think about things. She takes everything as it is. I don’t know what it is, really. A sense of curiosity, maybe? I couldn’t have told you, I didn’t even know what was lacking until you came up behind me in that post office line. I didn’t know what was possible.”
His hand came around my ribs to rest on my stomach. I was vain enough to let it stay.
“Let me in, Vivian,” he said. “Please. Let me in again. Let me know you.”
I took a last pull on my cigarette and reached to crush it out. The brief separation chilled my spine. “And if you don’t like what you learn?”