Connections

by Jacqueline Wein

  “Okay, that’s it. Finished. What d’ya think?” Chris cocked his head in the doorway and studied their handiwork. “Think it’s too much?”

  Jason came up behind him, playfully, tiredly, and dug his chin into Chris’s shoulder. “Only for people who don’t like sex in the kitchen.”

  “Come on, really.”

  “I think once we put the knickknacks back and hang the baskets on the walls, it’ll look great. Maybe we shouldn’t have done the refrigerator, though.”

  “Well, it would’ve looked terrible if we had left it white.” Chris backed up far enough to stand next to Jason, draping his arm loosely around Jason’s neck. “It kinda grows on you.”

  “So does mold.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am. I’m going to go soak in the shower, put on a pair of white ducks, and then, know what I’d like? I’d like to take a walk in the fresh air, even if it is steamy, go sit outdoors at an open café, and have a nice dinner, a few drinks. I’d like to not think about having to wash all the dishes and glasses and pots tomorrow and put everything away. And not talk about the letter, okay?”

  “Okay by me.”

  “Good.” Jason took off his T-shirt as he headed toward the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of a wet, black nose sticking out from under the couch. “I hope you’re damned grateful, Sabrina!” he yelled.

  “For what?”

  He knew Chris would ask, and he was ready with an answer. “That dogs are color blind!” His shirt snapped as he swiped it at the air.

  Chapter 68

  Louise blotted the lettuce with a paper towel after she took it out of the spinner. She could see the deck beyond the living room. The kitchen with its pass-through counter was a perfect blind for…She caught herself before she finished the thought. It was sheer habit to think of it as a blind, as hunter and prey. She didn’t feel that way at all. In fact, she was actually comfortable. She put the lettuce leaves in a plastic bag to crisp them and put it on the top shelf, slightly rearranging the milk and soda bottles. As she cut the tomatoes on a little round wooden board, she tried to recall the times when she had been passionate with somebody. Or sexy. There had been quite a few, she supposed. But she couldn’t remember ever being comfortable with somebody. This was a new experience. And a much more fulfilling one.

  The sudden movement of Ken’s backing up as a flame shot up from the charcoal jarred her. He waved his long barbecue fork, like a saber, knowing she was watching. “Okay!” he shouted. “It’s okay. Everything’s under control. Just means we have a great fire going.” He reassured Louise and then the rest of his audience, resting under the chaise lounge. Louise could hear Honda’s contented sigh. It was all so natural. She was natural. It was very strange. Strange and beautiful. It made her feel beautiful. She smiled at her face in the toaster as she diced the onions.

  Ken pushed the briquettes around a little more. Then, satisfied, he sat in his chair, his dangling left hand grabbing clumps of fur. The dog loved it and tried to catch his fingers. Ken wanted to be with her, but he wanted more to sit here alone and be aware of her presence nearby. He liked the kitchen sounds she made…crockery scraping crockery, the metallic jangle of silverware, a faucet squeaking as she turned it on and off, and the broken hum of a barely familiar melody, keeping in time to her slicing and chopping.

  “Do you have a salad server?” she yelled out to him.

  He stoked the fire before he went back inside. “Why? Aren’t you going to serve it?” She opened her mouth to laugh, and he gave her a loud, affectionate kiss. “It’s on the top shelf.”

  “I saw the bowl; I meant a fork-and-spoon kind of server.”

  “Oh. Well, I got that too!” He went to the sideboard in the dining area and brought back sterling silver tongs. Slightly blackened.

  “Nice. Let me guess. They were a wedding present and when you split, your wife got the house and car, and you settled for the silver.”

  “Not even close. There were no wedding presents, and there was no wife. I told you that.”

  “I know, but I didn’t believe you. I thought I’d catch you just now.”

  “Did you really think I’d lie? Why would I do that?”

  “It’s not that I thought you lied. I just can’t believe a nice-looking, smart, all-together guy could have escaped all this time.”

  “Maybe that’s how I stayed so ‘all together,’” he teased her.

  “Well, you’re not all that terrific, you know!”

  “No?”

  “You have one very major fault that I can see.”

  “Oh, yes, what’s that?” he dared her.

  “You’re a menace”—Louise patty-caked her hands against him—“who has to be watched carefully…or else you’ll burn the whole neighborhood down.”

  “OhmyGod!” The words came out in a rush as Ken whirled around to face her view and then ran outside to fan the black smoke rising from the barbecue. When he finished, she was standing next to him, a glass of red wine in her outstretched hand. “Thanks,” he said. “I could use that. Let’s sit a few minutes before I bring the steaks out. It’s so beautiful at this time of day.”

  “It sure is.” The sun had set, leaving a spectrum of coral to deep red on the horizon, each shade flowing into the next, as if the hues were dripping and not just puffs of colored cloud floating past one another. “Is it always this spectacular?”

  “Probably. I don’t always notice. Actually, I arranged it.”

  “You arranged it?”

  “Uh-huh. I ordered a special showing for tonight. To impress you.” He smiled that benevolent, big-daddy smile that stopped her breath in her chest. He could be serious without being serious. That’s what she liked about him. He could say something, without requiring an answer, an embarrassed response from her. That’s what put her at ease, she decided.

  As soon as they sat on the glider, Honda tried to squeeze between them.

  “C’mon, you big baby, you’re too huge to be a lap dog,” she reprimanded him and at the same time boosted him up. “Do you mind?” she asked Ken sheepishly.

  “I mind that he’s trying to horn in on my time. Jealous, aren’t you?” He gave Honda his hand and started roughhousing with him.

  The color disappeared from the sky, but it was still light out. They sat in silence, enjoying the silence in the last of the sunset. Ken put the steaks on the grill, the meat hissing as the flames seared it. Louise’s skin was hot from the sunburn she’d gotten and from the wine. She rocked dreamily while Ken watched the meat, whistling softly.

  When she had tiptoed into the kitchen for some instant coffee this morning, he was already waiting for her. It was his idea to take Honda to the beach before anyone got there. They ran in the sand, towards the sunrise. The water curled into little waves, dappled with silver in the new light, and then gurgled into the quiet. Louise watched the ocean, thinking that it probably didn’t look any different from its first day. She wondered how many people since the beginning of time had stood on the edge of a continent like she was, and pondered the vastness of the universe and the smallness of themselves.

  After their full day yesterday, between the ride out, and their sightseeing by car because she was afraid to leave Honda alone in Ken’s house (“Who knows what he would do in a strange place?” she had argued), and a spur-of-the-moment pizza brought in, nothing had happened. At first, Louise had been glad. She always thought the second time was awkward. Trying to make it as good as the first time and usually finding out it wasn’t. Or realizing that the first time really wasn’t as good as you imagined it to be. Nothing happening was a relief to her. No pressure to try to match her eagerness of the first night or to enjoy it. But now, feeling as mellow as the wine she was sipping, she started to want him.

  She had blurted out that he was so “together,” but appraising him as he tended their dinner, she knew it was true. He was independent, in control of his life and a lot of other people’s lives, yet he didn’t seem to have a need t
o display his power. That was appealing to someone who was as strong as Louise and used to being leaned on. She had a sudden urge to be inside his arms, protected, soothed. She wanted to tell him all about her life, her hurts, and give herself completely up to him. She wanted to confess that she wasn’t as strong as she pretended, nor as emotionally competent. She wanted to be a little girl in her daddy’s lap. Thinking back on past lovers, it occurred to her that the best times—maybe the only times—for sex had been when she opened herself up enough to let a little of herself out. But just as she let someone peek at her inside, she closed up even tighter than before, withdrawing for long periods into her dark moods. Louise knew she was vulnerable. She also knew that she could trust Ken Hollis with her very being.

  Her insides loosened. Everything fluttered in her belly. Organs and muscles and nerves detached themselves and then rushed together, twisting into a sinewy knot. Its rhythmic contractions in her belly made her weak.

  Chapter 69

  The quiet was eerie. Even the steady whiz of traffic that always hummed into Laurie’s window from Queens Boulevard had slowed to a slight buzz. A fluff of cloud crept into her, the emptiness fluttering like a wing in her chest. She was so alone.

  Three thousand puppies and kittens are born every hour in the United States, 70,000 a day, keeping the animal population at somewhere close to 200 million. Laurie slashed the sentences with a red highlighter so she could add those numbers to her list of statistics. There are between 70 and 80 million canines, 80 to 90 million felines, and more than 50 million feral cats. Close to 60 percent of American households have pets; at last count, cats outnumbered dogs in popularity for the first time.

  Laurie slid the magazine next to her computer and started copying the figures. As she typed, the yellow numerals popped up on the screen, one at a time like mechanical ducks in a shooting gallery.