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  ‘Thanks, Katie,’ Bina said, and looked totally exhausted. Kate smiled at her but wondered how she would talk Michael into a Wednesday night of bowling.

  22

  Kate felt guilty as she pressed the buzzer before she remembered she had Michael’s keys. She silently cursed herself. She checked her watch and was even more concerned when she realized it was already a quarter to one. She was sure he was sleeping, and equally sure she had more beer on her breath than she would like him to smell. Somehow it was all right to go out with friends because of obligation but not to have a good time.

  When Michael came to the door, still dressed but obviously rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, she greeted him with a quick hug and passed him in the narrow foyer.

  ‘You shouldn’t have waited up,’ she said. What she meant was she should have gone home to her own apartment or, better yet, not gone to Brooklyn at all.

  But Michael just yawned and stretched. ‘Time to go to bed,’ he said. Kate agreed with a nod but headed to the bathroom.

  ‘I have to pee,’ she said.

  Once she had the door closed, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, gargled and then brushed her teeth again. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she reached for the face towel and stopped. She looked so…furtive. For a moment Kate saw – in her jaw, the set of her eyes, and her hairline – a frightening similarity to her father. It sent a shiver through her. Then she realized that rather than physical resemblance it was the guilty, skulking body language and expression that had conjured up his long-dormant image. She stood immobile under the light of the bare bulb in Michael’s bachelor bathroom and looked herself in the eye. You have nothing to be guilty about, she told herself. If Michael is rigid with his schedule there is no reason for you to feel guilty. Having drinks with your girlfriends is nothing to feel guilty about.

  But Kate knew it wasn’t just that. Her thoughts of Billy Nolan were unsettling. She didn’t want those thoughts; she didn’t want the feeling she had had as she flirted with him. And even if she had done it for Bina, and even if she was only tricking Billy, the fact was she had acted as if she were making a date with another man and the other man believed it. Wasn’t that kind of cheating on Michael? She thought about Jennifer and her lies to members of her fifth-grade class. Raised as a Catholic while her mother was alive, Kate had never quite gotten over the concept of sins of commission as well as sins of omission. Was she guilty of the latter? But how could she possibly discuss this with Michael?

  Now she was returning to sleep with her lover and she felt uncomfortably like a slut. It wasn’t the beer on her breath or the smell of cigarette smoke on her clothes that embarrassed her. It was her own feelings that she felt ashamed of.

  Kate washed quickly and emerged from the bathroom in her panties and bra. As she walked into Michael’s bedroom she was dismayed to see that he was completely undressed under the sheet and had lit the candle on his nightstand. Michael usually slept in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. The lack of them and the lighted candle was almost always a sign of desire.

  ‘May I borrow a shirt?’ Kate asked meekly.

  Michael nodded and gestured to the bureau. She took out a plain white Fruit of the Loom and slipped into it, then slid into bed beside him.

  ‘Was it fun?’ Michael asked, putting his arm around her.

  ‘Not really,’ Kate said. ‘And I’m so exhausted.’ She paused. Michael was good with this kind of sexual nuance. She waited a minute. ‘Can we just spoon?’ she asked and turned her back to him, feeling his chest against her shoulder blades.

  ‘Sure,’ Michael said and Kate was relieved not to hear disappointment in his voice. He shifted for a moment, blew out the candle and pressed his body up to hers. Kate sighed, and either out of shame, exhaustion or too much beer, she closed her eyes and was asleep in moments.

  Kate woke up slightly hung over on Sunday morning and took two aspirins, washing them down with club soda. She and Michael then fell into their comforting and usual ritual; he had gotten the New York Times and bagels, and they spent two hours reading bits of paper to one another and nibbling on cream cheese and pumpernickel. Kate opened the Styles section to read a continuation of a story about beauty parlors in Afghanistan and accidentally ran into the Weddings/Celebration page. It was something she tried to avoid, something unsettling like stepping around a dead pigeon on the sidewalk. A picture caught her eye. Two men, their heads cocked toward each other, had celebrated a commitment ceremony in Woodstock, Vermont. Kate thought of Elliot and Brice. Since the Times had begun running gay couples on their wedding page, the two of them read them, usually laughing hysterically. This one, she had to agree was pretty silly. ‘Listen to this, Michael,’ she said. ‘We met through a personal ad. Can you believe it? He wrote “NICE JEWISH BOY 22. The kind your mother would love.” And we had coffee and then dinner and went out the next night and we’ve been together ever since.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Michael said, absently.

  ‘I think it’s dreadful,’ Kate said. ‘Publicly admitting that you met through a personal is bad enough, but bragging about it…pathetic.’ As if in punishment for her judgmental comments she then went on to read the rest of the section, as she always had to when she forgot to avoid it. It was a bad mistake. Column after column describing happy unions, listing the groom’s parents, the bride’s family, with quotes from their siblings and descriptions of the celebrations always left her feeling depressed and different from everybody else. If she married Michael, what would the Times possibly run about her wedding? ‘The bride, close to her 32nd birthday and an orphan, had elected to have a small wedding. “I couldn’t really afford a big party, and I don’t have enough family and friends to attend one,” Katherine Jameson-Atwood said. “In fact, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, but then, who is?”’ She covertly looked over the top of the paper at Michael and wondered how he would look in one of the grainy gray photos, his head leaned toward hers. She closed the paper and put it aside.

  Restless, she got up and went to the window. Michael’s building, a large white brick postwar complex, consisted of several hundred boring apartments, but the views from the upper floors were spectacular. She looked out the window down at Turtle Bay. She could even see a glimmer of the East River. ‘It looks like it’s clouding over,’ she said.

  Michael came up behind her and wrapped one arm around her chest and shoulder, like a high collar on a coat. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we could either go out and competitively skateboard or we could lie down in the bedroom. The choice is yours.’

  Kate laughed and let him take her hand, leading her to the bed, though she wasn’t certain she was in the mood. But when they were lying down and he had undressed her, Kate relaxed into his kisses. When he bit her, gently, on the back of her neck it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She began to forget herself in the trance of sexual pleasure that began to rise slowly like a tide at full moon. She felt his hands slide over her, deft and knowing, if a little predictable. When he rolled from his side on top of her she wanted him. Swept away by the rhythm of his movements and her hungry response, Kate felt good for the first time that weekend. She closed her eyes and had the delightful feeling of an irresistible orgasm about to take place. At the edge she whispered, ‘Yes.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and then Billy Nolan’s face flashed before her, as clear as it had been the night before. She caught her breath and groaned, but it was not with pleasure.

  When Michael came, Kate realized – to her dismay – that she was relieved.

  As they lay there together Kate thought about the bowling plan. She couldn’t imagine Michael running down the lane, but she had to go with him or Billy would continue to believe that she was his date. She couldn’t take Elliot, because any man could tell there were no vibes between them – at least not the sexual kind. And her guilt compelled her to end the charade as quickly as possible. ‘Michael,’ she whispered. ‘Are you asleep?’

  ‘Not quite,’ he murmured.


  ‘I want to ask you something.’

  He turned to her with that deer-in-the-headlights look men got when they thought you were going to talk about ‘the relationship’.

  ‘How do you feel about bowling?’ Kate asked.

  23

  ‘Pee-yeuw!’ Bina said as she, Kate and Michael struggled to get their rented bowling shoes on.

  ‘STRIKE!’

  ‘You lucky son of a bitch!’ Behind them some blue-collar bowlers were either in a fierce bowling or a drinking competition – or perhaps both.

  They were at Bowl-a-Rama. The noise was thunderous as pins fell and madmen screamed. ‘The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat!’ Kate chirped, echoing a television sports show intro line.

  ‘The agony of de feet is only starting,’ Michael quipped. Kate knew how fastidious he was, and the idea of putting her own foot into these skeevey bowling shoes gave Kate the willies. It seemed that Bina had qualms too, but they were more fashion-related.

  ‘Do you think this red goes with my outfit?’ she asked Kate nervously.

  ‘Sure,’ Kate told her, though the shoes were hideous, as was Bina’s new outfit. Kate could see that Barbie had ‘helped’ in dressing Bina for the big occasion.

  Thinking of that, Kate scanned the crowd, looking for Billy Nolan. All was chaos. In the lanes next to them, a league was just finishing up and the clash of orange and brown shirts was almost nauseating to look at. Kate herself was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans while Michael was wearing a sports coat, perhaps the only sports coat in a ten-block radius.

  Bina stood up. Kate reassessed her outfit and realized that the short black miniskirt would reveal all when Bina bent over to release the ball. Her green clingy top was set off by a fuchsia scarf, Barbie’s trademark color. Unfortunately for Bina, the scarf reflected onto her face, giving it a mauve cast that clashed with the blouse. Oh, well, Kate thought, nothing would make this double date from hell work anyway.

  They were assigned an alley and as they slipped into the molded plastic seats Michael, ever the gentleman, asked if they would like something to drink. Bina asked for a cola and, before she thought about it, Kate ordered a beer. She imagined that Michael raised his brows before he went off to get them.

  The moment he was gone, Bina turned to her. ‘Where is he, Katie?’ she asked, eyeing the entrance. ‘He said he’d be here on time. Maybe he’s going to stand me up. Oh, I’m so nervous.’

  ‘Calm down, honey,’ Kate said. ‘He’ll be here.’ In truth, Kate was nervous herself. She knew she had deceived Billy, though Bina hadn’t a clue. And if she couldn’t make the transition gracefully and make it look as if any confusion was a natural mistake on Billy’s part she was afraid of the fallout. Billy Nolan wasn’t going to be thrilled when he realized that he’d been tricked into an evening with Bina.

  ‘God, I’m sweating through my blouse,’ Bina said. ‘I’m going to run to the ladies’ room and check my makeup one more time.’ She stood up and wound her way through the bobbing heads and fat bellies in the crowd that milled around the lanes and the bar. Kate noticed that many heads turned, but probably not the heads most women would strive to turn.

  Michael returned with the beverages and Kate saw he had also bought some snacks.

  ‘Bina’s looking, um, different since the last time I saw her,’ Michael stammered.

  ‘Well, I think you only saw her when she was having a case of the hysterical fantods,’ Kate reminded him.

  ‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ Michael said. ‘She looks…jazzier.’

  ‘Please! She looks like she belongs in the cast of 42nd Street,’ Kate told him. She realized she sounded as tense as she felt. She put her arm out and took Michael’s hand. ‘It was sweet of you to come,’ she said. ‘Launching Bina in her new life is really important after what she’s been through.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t seem to take her long to recover,’ Michael said. He sat down and picked up a paper cup of soda. For a moment Kate felt irritation. Because of her background she had always looked for a man who was sober, but perhaps never drinking at all was a bad thing. It occurred to her for the first time that Michael might be terribly afraid of losing control.

  He squeezed her hand. ‘It was sweet to see you at work,’ he told her. ‘I suppose that you could do that anywhere. Or even have a private practice.’

  It seemed to Kate, wondering if his comment was significant, that in the midst of the apocalyptic surroundings a discussion of career moves might be difficult. ‘I like working in the school setting,’ she said. ‘You get more feedback about behavior and change.’

  As he didn’t say anything, she craned her neck looking first to the ladies’ room and then to the door, hoping that this mad scheme with Billy would work out. At that moment, Billy walked into the bowling alley. He spotted Kate before she could even raise her hand and walked over to their lane. Damn Bina, Kate thought. It was going to be difficult enough to subtly show him who his date was; now it would be virtually impossible. What the hell was Bina doing in the ladies’ room for so long, taking a shower?

  Kate introduced Billy to Michael. They shook hands. Kate couldn’t help but notice how incredibly attractive Billy looked. He was wearing very old black jeans and a slightly clingy T-shirt of the same color that revealed the body of a natural athlete. She could see his arms, and figured the guy didn’t have two percent body fat. Typical narcissist, she thought. He must be a gym rat to have that kind of biceps definition. And she was amused to see that he had his own equipment. She hadn’t known anybody who owned their own bowling ball in fifteen years.

  Billy dropped his bowling bag on the seat next to Kate. ‘Let’s rock and bowl!’ he said, looking down at her a little too intensely.

  Kate stood up quickly, scanning the bowling alley. ‘Bina will be back in a moment,’ she told him.

  ‘Fine,’ Billy said, clearly not at all interested in Bina’s whereabouts. To her alarm he put his arm around Kate’s shoulder. ‘Hey, you look great,’ he said, his voice way too personal.

  Kate quickly stepped out of his embrace and moved closer to Michael, who was still seated. She put her hand on Michael’s shoulder. Billy paused for a moment, then sat down and began to put on his own shoes. Kate, feeling both guilty and awkward, sat down beside Michael. Michael, as if in response to Billy’s overly warm greeting, put his arm across the back of the seats and rested it on her shoulder. Kate prayed for Bina’s arrival.

  Billy looked up from his laces and eyed the two of them. ‘You two just meet?’ he asked. ‘Or are you related?’

  ‘No. We’ve been going out for a while now,’ Michael replied innocently. Kate thought she saw Billy’s face color up but he looked down again at his shoes.

  Just then, to Kate’s enormous relief, Bina returned to the lane. She looked as if the entire research staff of Max Factor had worked her face over. A great look for bowling. But when she smiled, her natural warmth showed. ‘Well, hey,’ she said to Billy, crossed the tile of the bowling pit and sat down beside him.

  Billy looked from Kate to Bina. And he looked back across at Kate, along with Michael’s proprietorial arm. ‘I was afraid you weren’t going to make it,’ Bina told him. Kate tried to avert her eyes, but not soon enough. From the look on Billy’s face, Kate knew that he now understood what was going on and he was clearly unhappy with the territory as it was now staked. She decided to hope for the best.

  ‘Okay,’ Kate said, sliding into the double seat behind the scorekeeping board. She quickly entered their information into the keypad and the names lit up on the overhead screens – hers with Michael’s and Bina’s with Billy’s. ‘Now we can get started.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Billy said, looking at the screen, ‘but what are we starting?’

  Kate thought she heard some anger or maybe bitterness in his voice but felt it was best to just ignore it.

  ‘We can’t start,’ Bina whined. ‘I haven’t found a ball.’ She looked at Billy and did everything excep
t bat her eyelashes. ‘Would you help me?’ she asked. Then she licked her lips.

  Kate wondered if she had confused Elliot’s ridiculous instructions and was trying to annoy instead of arouse.

  Billy shot Kate a look, and it said everything. Then he grabbed Bina’s hand and, without ever taking his eyes off Kate, stood up. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’m no expert with balls, except my own, but I’ll try. Though it often seems to me that other people have a lot of balls.’

  Kate blushed. She knew this type of behavior; she had seen it with her child patients. He was going to act out and make sure she paid for her little deception by being as horrible as possible. Billy and Bina left the pit and Michael waited until they were out of earshot.

  ‘Charming,’ Michael said. ‘Will he discuss other parts of his anatomy as the night progresses?’ He sat beside Kate in the spring seat. ‘How long have you known him?’ he asked, echoing Billy, consciously or not.

  Kate was surprised to feel a slight surge of pleasure at his possessiveness. ‘Oh, he picked up Bina at that wedding I went to,’ Kate replied.

  ‘A friendly guy. And well-equipped,’ was all Michael deigned to say.

  Then Bina and Billy returned from the rack. Bina was carrying a hideous-looking bowling ball, blue with patches of fuchsia. ‘We finally found a ball that matches my scarf!’ Bina said, with what seemed to Kate overdone enthusiasm. ‘Billy helped me.’ Kate restrained herself from shaking her head. Bina was acting as if the selection of a piece of sporting equipment was akin to slaying a dragon. She held up the hideous ball then nearly dropped it. Kate remembered, all at once, just how klutzy Bina was. ‘Klutzy-shmutzy’, Mrs Horowitz used to say. ‘As long as you get good grades.’ Bina then attempted to stick her plump fingers into the tiny holes.

  Billy, meanwhile, unzipped his bag and took out a much larger black ball. ‘And look,’ Billy exclaimed, laying on the sarcasm. ‘I found a ball that matches my outfit too!’