Too Easy (8 page)

“The latter, actually, by way of teaching high school science.”

Anne smiles. “How charming.” Teaching, she thinks, yes, that's probably what I should be doing. “Well, Mr. Martin, thank you. I'll be in touch.”

“When you are ready,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says again, trying to mimic his detached manner. But inside she feels quite giddy.

•
 Kathy's sitting on top of him, still wearing blue panties, her breasts hanging close to his face. She smiles down at him, with that smile of hers. Sometimes it seems only playful, as if they're teenagers at a beach party. Sometimes mischievous, telling him it's really not that bad, anyway not final. Sometimes, as now, evil. As if she knows three times what he knows about life, and one of the things she knows is that they have gone over the edge and he's never coming back. Practically speaking, Anne's . . . already a
widow.
Oh, God.

Kathy holds his face between her hands and leans over to kiss him, sticking her tongue straight down into his mouth. Then she smiles very close to his face. “Robie, sweet Robie,” she says.

He feels breathless, unable to speak, not just from the physical effect she has on him. But also from the confusion in his mind, the way his moods jump. He fumbles with her
heavy breasts, finding the nipples. Everything he does feeling evil, wonderfully evil.

I deserve this, he tells himself. It's the best, it's everything a man dreams of, and I've got it.

She pushes two fingers into his mouth, and he sucks on them. With her other hand she strokes his chest.

She moves her ass around on his hard prick. Then she raises up, slowly, smiling at him, and very delicately pushes the blue fabric aside, and aims his prick up into her. He watches it disappear into the black hair as she settles down on him.

“Uummmmmm,” she says. “I've got you now.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, with a strained voice.

“I'm doing the fucking now,” she says.

He nods, okay, okay.

Kathy straightens her back, arches slightly away from him. She seems very tall now. She rises and falls on him, going right to the top of his prick, wriggling on it, making him think it's slipping out. But she keeps it in her and then drops forcefully down on him.

“Don't come, Robie,” she whispers down to him. “I want to fuck you for a long, long time. I can't get enough of you.”

That almost finishes him right there. He gasps, tries to think of something else. The walls of this motel. What the ceiling is made of . . . some kind of sound-proofing material, isn't it? Some faint voices coming from the TV. . . .

Then she falls over on him, puts her face on his. “Just kidding, lover. Don't you know that?” The big smile. “You come any time you want. With us, there aren't any rules. You
know
that.”

Suddenly she stands up on the bed. Staring down at him for a moment. Then she steps off the bed and walks across the room. She leans against the wall and says, “See?”

“Oh, geez,” he mutters. “Kathy . . . come back.”

“I've got to pee.” She pushes her panties down to the
floor, then starts toward the bathroom. “Come on in here, I'll show you something.”

•  •  •

They're dressed, it's almost time to go. Robert can hardly speak. They're sitting on the edge of the bed, side by side. He puts his right arm around her neck, lets his hand hang by her breast. Even exhausted, he thinks about taking her clothes off, starting over. It's crazy, he thinks, but it's a fact. Never mind, this is as calm as I get. I'm doing it. . . .

“It's the right thing,” he says weakly. “We should get married.” There, the words are out.

“Robie, you're proposing!”

“Yes, Kathy. I'm asking . . . please marry me.”

“Hey, you! On the floor.” She smiles.

He grimaces as he spins down on one knee before her. “You're right.” He puts his left hand on her thigh. The other hand finds a small box in his jacket pocket. “Kathy, please marry me . . . as soon . . . when we can.”

She watches him with a sweet and amused smile. Boy, he does struggle, doesn't he? Took his time, too, like there was some doubt or something. Alright, it's been tough for him—all I have to do is watch him to know that. And now here he is, on one knee, asking to make me Mrs. Kathy Saunders. Well, I think I might consider it. . . .

“I'd be honored,” she says, more gravely, taking the small box.

“It's not an engagement ring, Kathy. Uh, you couldn't wear that yet. . . . It's just a present.”

Kathy opens the Tiffany box and finds a slim gold bracelet. She smiles at him. “It's a
big
wedding ring, isn't it?”

He nods.

“It's sweet. And it's smart. Just what I expect from my man. I am so happy.”

She puts the bracelet on and then hugs him. Leaning into
him, knocking him backward. He smells her perfume and feels her breasts on his face and, as they topple over, her soft weight on his chest. It's right, he thinks. I'm glad I did it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says into his eyes. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “For everything.”

“We belong together, sweet baby. All our lives were working toward this point.”

“That's a nice way to think about it.”

“It's the way I
always
thought about it.”

He stares, amazed again by her confidence.

•
 The man next to Robert says, “Well, you can see why Bill Clinton was great with women.”

That catches Robert's attention. “Yeah, why?”

“He looks in their eyes and says what they want to hear. He campaigned the same way and then he ran the country like that. Of course, we don't use the word liar.”

Yeah, well, that's not me . . . is it? Robert stares at the grim landscape of the Bronx. His train's about fifteen minutes from Grand Central. He fidgets, says uneasily, “I see what you mean.”

Another day of fires and murders, corruption and urban collapse, coming up. Another day of being in the same building with Kathy. Another day of deciding that this is the day—he'll get his thoughts together, go home and tell Anne the truth. Calmly and honorably. And she'll understand. And, well then, they'll get divorced.

“You vote for him,” the man wants to know.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Glad?”

“It was a tough election. To choose, I mean.”

“That's the truth. You think the guy's maybe a little off? There's something . . . that W. C. Fields look. . . .” The man shrugs, sees Robert staring out the window, does the same. “Jesus, look at this . . . wasteland.”

Robert nods. Yeah, this is the day, he decides. I'm going to do it tonight. It's inevitable anyway and, uh, I know it's right. And given what's going on, it's the only fair thing to do. I mean, come on, the dishonesty is what upsets me. The deception. The . . . hypocrisy? No, that's not it. It's not a moral matter, not for me. It's between me and Anne. We've always told each other the truth. We have to keep doing that. She expects it. She wants it. It's a personal matter. I owe her this. And she owes me her understanding. She'll give me that. Nobody asks for something like this to happen. Well, I didn't. I didn't go looking. It found me. Really, you can walk down the street and a safe falls on you. Or you see something in the gutter, and it's a winning lottery ticket. There it is, you have to pick it up. You don't, you're a fool. I mean, I'm not sure about God running around giving people gifts. But this is as close to that as it gets. A higher love.

Kathy is just extraordinary. I think about her, I get goose bumps, or a hard-on. Something,
bang,
visceral, right from the center. But sex and all that aside, Kathy is really an exceptional person. Well, so is Anne. But you take all the qualities together, Kathy is amazing. And she's not complacent, not sitting on a pat hand. I really like that. The feeling I get, I've got to keep chugging if I want to keep up. “VP Marketing,” she says. “Five years. Count on it.” Wow. . . .

“What do you do?” the man asks.

“Editor at
New York News.”

“Live in Westchester?”

“Yes.”

The man smirks. “They should make all you people live in Manhattan. Damned limousine liberals are killing the place. Pushing all the bullshit for everybody else to live with, then they go back to Scarsdale.”

Roberts stares at him. “My wife works in White Plains. It was sort of a compromise.”

“Ummmm?”

“Hey, I'd like to live in Manhattan.” Robert smiles. “Maybe I will be. Besides, I'm not a limousine liberal. I report the news as straight as I can. It's an honorable profession.”

“Yeah? Well, alright. You sound pretty serious about it.”

“Yeah,” Robert snaps. “I'm serious.” He almost adds, Now leave me alone, go bother someone else, you pompous jerk. I'm serious, alright. . . . Seriously over my head . . . seriously ready to tell Anne . . . seriously hooked,
line and sinker.

The train's in the tunnel under Park Avenue. People standing up to put on their coats.

Robert thinks about Anne and how comfortable they've always been with each other. Yes, that's it. Comfortable. We're best friends. That's what's going to make this work. We've always wanted what's best for the other. I'll explain to her, this is just something I have to do. You wouldn't want to stop me, would you, Anne? No, of course not. I'd do the same for you. . . . Well, alright, I'd have to. That's the point. If someone you love sees a way to achieve some kind of greater happiness, you have to wish them well. You have to
push them
onward.

Robert stands up and moves into the aisle. Feeling calm and resolute. It won't be so bad. It has to be done. My future is with Kathy. Anne'll see that right away. God, I'll always love Anne. I'd help her any way I could. The rest of our lives, we'll be friends. That's the way I want it.

•  •  •

Robert gets off the train in Bronxville that evening with all the phrases worked out in his head. He wants to be ready
for anything Anne might say, any objections. Well, there's really only one, that he's known Kathy only a few months. Seems like a much bigger part of his life than that. Everything's been so intense. A lot of anxiety about each step in the relationship. But, really, didn't he know almost from the beginning? She got inside his head right off the starting block. He worries about telling Anne precisely that. No point in hurting her feelings. Still, she may ask, how can you be sure?

He walks to his car, pushing the pieces of the scene around in his head. Really, the only thing he's concerned about is keeping the whole thing calm, logical, friendly. He doesn't want any crying, or anger, or hysterics. He might lose his composure, too. And then who knows what either one of them might say. No, the main thing is to be low key.

He drives the few miles to their house in a fairly good mood. Remembering what Kathy told him: “You'll do fine, lover.” That way she talks to him sometimes. As though he's the student, and she's the teacher or the coach.

All through dinner Robert is on the edge of saying, “By the way . . .”

He stands an inch away from doing it. The silence of the house seems to have gotten louder. Well, that's it, no children. God, that's luck, he thinks, given what is happening now.

He's got the smell of the other woman on him. A fact that seems to seal the matter for him. Yes, this is the night. All the same, he feels somehow vulnerable, exposed by this fact. Something that must be kept secret, and this, he senses, gives Anne a small bit of moral superiority.

He watches Anne, thinking about their years together. They talk of almost nothing. Was it always like this? The silence seems louder.

In the kitchen, as they wash and dry the dishes, Robert
inhales at length and says, “Oh, Anne, I've been meaning . . .”

He's wiping a plate as he turns casually to face her.

She looks back at him. Somehow very poised and still. Why is this surprising? Somehow very . . . steely.

“Yes, Robert?”

“. . . to talk to you. . . .”

And he has a horrible vision that Anne will not be friendly and agreeable. That's odd. She's
always
been friendly and agreeable. All the same, he
feels
this strongly. She'll object and resist. She'll—oh, God—fight back. And what does that mean, concretely? He sees it with great clarity. It means a messy, painful, and very expensive divorce. No, this isn't what he had in mind at all.

“Yes?”

Robert fumbles with the plate, lets it roll out of his hands onto the sink. It bounces and spins, clattering for several seconds.

“Damn,” he says. “Slippery little bugger.” He fakes a laugh.

“It's all right,” Anne observes mildly. “Now, you've been meaning . . . ?”

“Oh, what?” He acts puzzled. Shakes his head, looking around the room as if trying to remember something. “Went right out the window,” he laughs.

She waits. Very poised, it seems to Robert. Well, really.

“Oh,” he says. “Maybe it's that promotion you've been upset about. I just wish you wouldn't let it get you down.” He smiles at her. “Maybe it's a lucky break, you know, in disguise. Do you really want a lot more responsibility?”

She shrugs, seeming to consider the question carefully.

“I mean,” he hastens on, “don't you have more time the way things are now? In case, well,” he almost says
we have children,
“you want to travel . . . or whatever.”