"I wouldn't. You're right."

"I know you wouldn't. You don't know me all that well yet, but you're pretendin' you do by sayin' things like that. How would you like it if I said, 'Oh, you're a writer! You must like pipes and Shakespeare and Irish setters. At your feet!' "

"Karen?"

"What?"

"You're right." I touched her elbow. She pulled it away.

"Don't do that! Stop tellin' me I'm right. Put up your dukes and fight." She made a bird-sized fist and stuck it up under my nose. The fun behind the gesture wrenched something loose inside me, and looking at her, I opened my mouth to say, "God, I like you," but she interrupted me.

"Joseph, I don't want you turnin' out to be a male chauvinist pig. I want you to be exactly what I think you are, which is very special. I'm not goin' to tell you about that yet, though, because it'll only give you a swelled head. First you saved me from that black dragon, and then you turned out to be nice and interestin'. I will be madder than hell if you end up disappointin' me. Understand?"

Her school was old and red brick; you felt wealth radiating out from it like heat. I stood on the other side of the street at three-thirty and waited for her to come out. She had no idea I'd be there. Surprise!

A bell clanged and girls' heads leapt up in every window. Voices and shouts and high laughter. Moments later they swelled out of the building in soft gray and white waves. Hefting books, looking at the sky, talking to each other; all of them wore gray blazers, matching gray skirts, and white blouses. I thought they looked wonderful.

I saw a blond woman who looked like Karen toting a big briefcase. I started blindly across the street, but saw halfway there that it wasn't her.

After half an hour she still hadn't shown, so I gave up and started home. I didn't understand it. At a corner phone booth I called; she answered on the first ring.

"Joseph, where are you? I'm bakin' a pecan pie."

I explained what had happened, and she giggled. "Today's the day I get out early. I went down to Soho to shop for our dinner. You are comin' to dinner, you know."

"Karen, I bought you a present." I looked at it clenched in my hand.

"It's about time you got me somethin'! No, I'm kiddin'. I'm very touched. Bring it along to dinner. I'll open it after."

I wanted to tell her what it was. It was heavy; the big Edward Hopper book with color plates she liked so much. I put it down on the small metal shelf beneath the telephone box.

"Joseph, tell me what it is. No, don't! I want to be surprised. Is it great?"

"Why don't you wait and see?"

"Stinker."

I wanted to put my hand through the receiver and stroke that smooth, velvet voice. I could see her face – the delight and the sauciness. I wished I was there. "Karen, can I come over now?"

"I wish you were here an hour ago."

I almost ran down the hall when I got out of the elevator. I arrived at her door with the book under my arm and my heart in my throat. There was a note taped up: Don't get mad. We'll have the pie when I get back. Something came up. Its name is Miles and says it needs help bad. I don't want to go. Repeat – I do not want to go. I owe him for a lot though, so I'll go. But I'll be home as soon as I can. Don't be mad or I'll kill you. There's a good movie on the Late Movie. I'll knock three times. Don't be mad.

I bought a pizza and brought it home so I could be there in case she got back early. She didn't. She didn't come back at all that night.

2

The next morning I got a letter from India. At first I looked at it as if it were a key or paper I'd lost long ago and, now that I'd found it, didn't know what to do with.

Dear Joe,

I know I've been rotten about writing, but please assume things have happened that kept me from it. There's been no real sign from Paul, although twice he's done little bad things to remind me he's still here. Since I know you'll worry if I don't tell you what I mean, the other morning I went to the kitchen and found a Little Boy glove on the table where he used to sit. As I said, small things, but I got scared enough and reacted like a maniac, so I guess he was satisfied.

I've made an appointment to see a famous medium here in town, and although I've never had much faith in those table thumpers, an awful lot of what I used to believe has been washed right down the drain in the last few months. I'll tell you if it turns up anything.

Now, don't take it the wrong way, but I'm enjoying living by myself. There are so many more things you're responsible for – the things your other half used to take care of without your even knowing it. But the compensation is, you're free as a bird and answerable to none. God knows, I liked living with Paul, and maybe someday I'll like living with you, but for now I like having the double bed to myself and all options open.

How are you, slugger? Don't you dare misinterpret anything I've said here, or else.

Little hugs, India

I swallowed my pride and called Karen's apartment. It rang seven times before she answered. Each ring made my heard beat faster and faster.

"Hello, Joseph?"

"Karen?"

"Joseph. Joseph, I'm so bad."

"Can I come down?"

"I spent the night with him."

"I sort of guessed that when you didn't show up for the Late Movie."

"Do you really want to see me?"

"Yes, Karen, very much."

She was in a pink flannel bathrobe and ugly pink bedroom slippers. She held the robe closed at the neck and wouldn't meet my eyes. We went into the room and sat down on the couch. She sat as far away from me as she could get. The dead couldn't have been more silent than we were for those first five minutes.

"Do you have someone over there in Vienna? Not any here's or there's. Someone special?"

"Yes. Or maybe yes. I don't know."

"Are you lookin' forward to goin' back to her?" Her voice took on the slightest edge.

"Karen, will you please look at me? If you're worried about last night, it's all right. I mean it's not all right, but I understand. Oh, shit, I can't even say that. I don't have any right. Look, I hate the idea of your sleeping with someone else now. It's a compliment, okay? A compliment!"

"Do you hate me?"

"God, no! Everything is crazy in my head now. Last night I thought I was going to end up chewing the carpet, I was so jealous."

"You were?"

"Yes, I was."

"Do you love me, Joseph?"

"What a time to ask that! Yes, after what I felt last night, I guess I do."

"No, maybe you were just jealous. It's easy to be jealous, especially with somethin' like that."

"Karen, if I didn't care about you, I wouldn't give a damn about last night, would I? Listen, I got a letter from Vienna today, okay? I got a letter, and for the first time I had no desire to go back. None. I don't even want to write back. Doesn't that mean something?"

She was silent. She still wouldn't look at me.

"And what about you, anyway? Who do you love?"

She pulled one of the couch pillows into her lap and began smoothing it with her hand again and again. "You more than Miles."

"What does that mean?"

"It means last night taught me somethin', too."

We finally looked at each other over the miles of couch that separated us. I think we both yearned to touch but were afraid to move. She went on smoothing the pillow.

"Did you ever notice how differently people act on a Saturday afternoon?"

We were walking arm in arm down Third Avenue. It was noisy and wet all around us, but the sun was out. We tramped along, paying no attention to where we were going.

"What do you mean?" I reached over and fixed her green muffler. She looked like a bright bandit in the middle of a holdup when I was done adjusting it.