“Even with the cat that barked?”
His face grew serious though his tone remained light. “Don’t minimize what I’m saying about you. I go through a day, sometimes a week, where everyone lies to me, everyone’s trying to play me. From the car salesman, to the vendors, from my doctor trying to upsell me drugs because he’s trying to fuck the pharmaceutical rep, to the airlines and the hotels and the women in the hotel bars. I would get back from a trip, and I would turn on Channel 6 and you—you—wouldn’t lie to me. That meant something. Some days, particularly after my marriage blew up and I was alone all the time, that meant everything.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was unaccustomed to compliments lately and unfamiliar with trust.
“Thanks,” she managed and looked at the floor.
“This is one sad song,” he said after a bit.
“It is.”
“You want to stop?”
“No.” She loved the press of his palm at the small of her back. It made her feel like she’d never fall. Never be hurt. Never lose. Never be abandoned again. “No, let’s keep going.”
11
APPETITES
The beginning of their love affair injected her with a false sense of calm. She almost convinced herself the panic attacks were a thing of the past, even though their most recent onset had been the most acute.
Her and Brian’s first official date was a cup of coffee the morning after they met. Too buzzed to drive the night before, Rachel had splurged on a river-view room at the Westin Copley Square. It had been over a year since she’d stayed in a hotel; in the elevator, she’d imagined ordering a snack from room service and watching a movie on-demand, but she fell asleep somewhere between kicking off her shoes and pulling back the bedspread. At ten the next morning, she met Brian at Stephanie’s on Newbury. Tendrils of vodka still shivered in her blood and in the mild gumminess of her brain. Brian, on the other hand, looked great. He was actually better looking in daylight than in bar light. She asked him about his job and he told her it paid the bills and let him indulge his love of travel.
“There’s gotta be more to it than that.”
“Not actually.” He chuckled. “Here’s what I do, day in, day out—I negotiate terms with lumber suppliers based on whether there’s a lot of lumber this month or a little. Was there a drought in Australia or did the rainy season last too long in the Philippines? Those factors change the price of lumber, which changes the price of—where do we start?—that napkin, this tablecloth, that sugar packet. I’m falling asleep talking about it.” He took a sip of coffee. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Will you ever go back to journalism?”
“I doubt anyone would hire me.”
“If they would? Say someone who never saw that video?”
“And where would I find them?”
“I hear Chad has terrible Internet service.”
“Chad?”
“Chad.”
She said, “Well, if I can ever get on a plane again, I’ll take a run at the news stations in . . .”
“N’Djamena.”
“Capital of Chad, yes.”
“On the tip of your tongue, I’m sure.”
“It was.”
“No, I know.”
“I would’ve gotten it.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“Not with your mouth maybe,” she said, “but with your eyes.”
“Yours are remarkable, by the way.”
“My eyes.”
“And your mouth.”
“You can hang with me anytime.”
“That’s the plan.” His face grew a bit somber. “Did you ever think you might not have to go as far as Chad?”
“What do you mean?”
“I wonder if you’re as recognizable as you think.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I was on the news five nights a week in this city for almost three years.”
“You were,” he said. “But what’s the viewership? About five percent of a city of two million? So that’s a hundred thousand people. Spread out over however many square miles make up the greater metro area. I bet if you polled everyone in this restaurant, only one or two would recognize you and maybe only because we asked and made them take a second look.”
She said, “I can’t decide if you’re trying to make me feel better or worse.”
“Better,” he said. “Always better. I’m trying to get you to see, Rachel, that, yeah, a few people remember that video and a smaller percentage of those connect it to you when they see you out in public, but it’s a shrinking demographic and it shrinks further every day. We live in a world of disposable memory. Nothing’s built to last, not even shame.”
She crinkled her nose at him. “You talk pretty.”
“You are pretty.”
“Awwwww.”
Second date was a dinner on the South Shore near her place. Third date was back in Boston, another dinner, and afterward they made out like high school kids, her back against a lamp pole. It started to rain, not the soft mist of the night they’d met but a pelting that coincided with a plummet into raw cold, as if winter was taking one last desperate bite out of them.
“Let’s get you to your car.” He tucked her under his raincoat. She could hear the drops hitting the outside of the coat like small stones, but everything remained dry except her ankles.
They passed a small park where a homeless man lay on a bench. He stared out at the street as if he were trying to spot something he’d lost there. He’d covered himself in newspaper, but his head shook persistently in the wet. His lips quivered.
“It’s a mean spring,” the man said.
“And almost June too,” Brian said.
“Supposed to clear by midnight.” Rachel felt anxious and guilty about owning a bed, a car, a roof.
The man gave that news a hopeful pursing of his lips and closed his eyes.
In her car, she got the heat turned on and rubbed her hands together. Brian leaned into the open window for a short kiss that turned into a long one and the rain battered her roof.
“Let me drive you home,” she said.
“It’s ten blocks in the wrong direction. The coat’ll keep me dry.”
“You don’t have a hat.”
“Ye of little faith.” He stepped back from the car and produced a Blue Jays ball cap from his coat pocket. When he put it on, he curved the bill with a snap of his fingers and saluted her with a cocked grin. “Drive careful. Call me when you get home.”
“One more.” She crooked a finger at him.
He leaned into the car one more time, kissed her, and she could smell the faintest hint of sweat from the underside of his cap brim and taste scotch on his tongue and she pulled hard on the lapels of his coat and deepened the kiss.