I thought that should put this to rest, but women examine these things on levels that men don’t even think about, and Susan said to me, “So, you were attracted to her?”
“Not at all.” I explained to her, “Men don’t need a reason – they just need a place.”
“Believe me, I understand that. But she is obviously attracted to you.”
“Everyone is.”
“You’re a total idiot.”
“I know that. Can we-?”
“Well, maybe she was so drunk that you looked good to her.”
“I’m sure of that. So-”
“I thought she was my friend.”
“She is, Susan. That’s why she-”
“And I suppose she was feeling very lonely and needy with her mother dying.”
“Exactly.”
I waited for further analysis, but Susan took my hand and said, “All right. Subject closed.”
I doubted that, so I waited a few seconds, then began, “As I told you-”
“I love you.”
“And I love you.”
“I know you were faithful to me all during our marriage, and I wish I could say the same.”
Me, too.
“I just want you to know, John, that he was the only one.”
“I know that.”
“So many women were chasing after you, and I was never jealous. I totally trusted you.”
“I know you did, and you can still trust me.”
“But if you’d had an affair while I was… while we were estranged, I would understand.”
“Good. I mean-”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.” I had a brief fling. “I was too distraught to even think about that.”
“I’m sorry I betrayed your trust.”
“It’s behind us.” A trite but appropriate expression came to mind, and I said, “Today is the first day of the rest of our lives together.”
She smiled, leaned over, kissed me, then sat back and asked, “Did you want to speak to me about something?”
“Yes. And please listen without comment.” I began, again, “As I told you, Anthony Bellarosa stopped by here last Monday.” I gave her a very brief outline of the visit, mentioning again Anthony’s inquiry about her, and Susan listened without comment. I concluded with, “He asked me to have dinner with him.”
“And did you?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. Except that I was concerned about you.”
She didn’t reply, so I continued, “And I suppose I had a perverse curiosity-”
“I understand. Go on.”
“All right. So I met him at Wong Lee’s in Glen Cove.” I couldn’t help myself from saying, “I thought it best to avoid an Italian restaurant, considering what happened… well, anyway, Anthony is not as charming as his father, or as bright, but-”
“John, I really don’t want to hear anything about his father. Good or bad. Just tell me what happened with Anthony.”
“All right.” I mentioned Tony, the driver, who inquired about her, then I related the pertinent parts of the dinner conversation with Anthony Bellarosa, and I briefly mentioned my phone conversation with Anna Bellarosa. I concluded with, “I got up and left.”
Susan thought about all that and said, “I hope this isn’t the job offer you mentioned.”
“Well… let me continue.” I told her about my chance meeting with Tony and Anthony on Grace Lane, and how I went for a one-way ride to Oyster Bay. I gave her an idea of what was said in Teddy Roosevelt’s former office, trying to make her understand not only what was said, but also what was not said about her. I mentioned, too, the black Cadillac Escalade, and suggested she keep an eye out for it. I downplayed a lot of what was discussed, and what I thought, because I didn’t want to alarm her; but neither did I want her to think this was something that would go away by itself, or that she should treat the situation with her usual indifference. I finished by saying, “So we sort of left this job offer up in the air.”
She looked at me and replied, “It doesn’t sound that way to me.” She asked me, “Are you crazy?”
“Susan, you need to understand-”
“I do understand, John. You believe that you’re considering this so-called job offer to try to protect me, but-”
“Why else would I even be speaking to this man?”
“You should ask yourself that question, not me.”
“Susan, let’s not get into amateur analysis. If I didn’t think that Anthony Bellarosa was looking for revenge for what happened… all right, I may have also thought that I could work for him in a legitimate capacity-”
“He’s a Mafia don.”
“I don’t know that.”
“John, you know that. And I’ll tell you something else you know. He appealed to your ego, and you were flattered. And he sensed, too, that you were vulnerable to his advances because of what happened in the past, and because you were not completely satisfied with your life. You are not going to repeat that mistake-”
“Hold on. Do I have to remind you who encouraged that relationship with you-know-who, and why you encouraged it?”
“Stop it!” She took a deep breath, then got herself under control and said, “You don’t have to remind me. I should remind myself.”
Neither of us spoke for a while, then she said, “He may be brighter than you give him credit for.”
“I know that.”
“But you’re much brighter than that.”
“I know that, too.”
“So what are you going to do, John?”
I thought about that and replied, “Well, my situation has obviously changed.” I forced a smile and said, “I’m in love and engaged to be married, as of a few hours ago, so I don’t have any need to be flattered by anyone else, and all my ego needs have been met, and I’m no longer vulnerable to the temptations of the devil.”
Susan looked at me again and said, “Tell the devil to go to hell.”
“I will… but I’m still concerned about you.”
“Don’t be.” She took my hand again and said, “I am so touched that you were thinking about protecting me when you hated me.”
“I never hated you. I loved you.”
“I see that.” She found a tissue in her pocket, dabbed her eyes, and said, “I do see that.”
We sat quietly for a while, then Susan asked me, “Do you have any plans to see or speak to him again?”
I glanced at my watch and replied, “Yes, in about five minutes.”
“Where?”
“At his house. I’m invited for Sunday dinner.”
“Don’t go.”
“My instincts say to go. And you need to trust me on this.”
She stayed silent for some time, then asked, “What is the purpose of going?”
I replied, “I feel if I don’t go, I might miss a last opportunity to learn something… to get a better understanding of the man, and of his thinking about… well, you.” I explained, “If I can get him to make a threatening remark, then when I go to the police, I’m sure they’ll take it seriously because of what Anthony Bellarosa has said, and also because of what happened ten years ago.”
Susan stayed silent a long time, then said, “If I had that moment to live over again, I would not pull the trigger.”
Three times, actually. And that reminded me to ask, “Do you own a gun?”
She looked at me and replied, “I did skeet and duck shooting in Hilton Head. I have a shotgun.”
I was happy to hear that she owned and knew how to use a shotgun, but recalling Emily Post’s advice on the subject of guns, and considering that I was about to move in with her… but, well, I’d take her at her word that she regretted her moment of explosive rage against her lover, and I would also assume that she’d developed better coping skills when angry. I asked, “Where do you keep the shotgun?”
“I don’t know… I think it’s in the basement.”
“You need to look for it.” I stood and said, “I should be going.”
She stood and asked me, “Who will be there?”
“Anthony, of course, his wife, Megan, probably their two children, and I suppose, Anna. I don’t know who else.”
“All right… I’ll trust your judgment on this.”
We walked back into the kitchen, and I said to her, “I’m not actually staying for dinner, of course.”