She was wearing well-worn jeans with white paint splashed in a few places. Somehow, her jeans were uniformly loose, but fitted, despite her wide hips and slim thighs. The jacket she wore was leather with tassels and silver, a jacket that would have been hopelessly outdated, a recent relic and definitely not retro, on someone else. On her, however, it looked hip and dangerous, as if she had weathered so much fashion that she was now impervious to it. Her hair hung straight down her back, and from the way it swung, seemed to weigh twenty pounds. She was making fists, clenching tight then spreading her fingers wide apart, and then she was gone.
I almost admired her.
I watched her go and struggled with the urge to follow her. I had been wondering about Arthur all day, what he was like, why he didn’t talk about his family, why he liked me. Men usually told me everything in a hurry, as if they hoped to control me by burying me under a mountain of useless personal information, as if—once I knew all about their childhood friends, former jobs, maudlin desires—I’d be so weighted down by all this knowledge that I would be unable to leave. But Arthur was as reticent as I was. Seeing her made me feel more in control. I had at least seen whom he had loved—what had once been enough for him—and, at the time, that was all the information I wanted.
Arthur was despondent, looking into his violin case as if it held some answers. I stood casting my shadow there for a second before he looked up.
“Oh,” he said smiling, “it’s you.”
“I dropped you off this morning,” I said. “I had to pick you up.”
He nodded. He clearly hadn’t thought about it.
“Was that your girlfriend?” I asked. I smiled mischievously. It was uncontrollable.
“Ex-girlfriend.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“That is true.” He scratched his head.
“What’s her name?”
“Why?”
“You might want to talk about her sometime.”
“Eva. Her name is Eva.” He took a deep breath.
“Does she miss you?” I don’t know why I thought this was so funny, but I started laughing.
“She wanted money,” he said. “Therefore she does miss me.”
“Did you give her any?”
“I gave her a twenty.” He nodded at me, still smiling.
“That was very kind of you,” I said.
“What is so damned funny?” asked Arthur. He was kneeling now, counting up the money, lots of quarters, enough dollar bills to make it look like a reasonable day.
“I don’t know. I have no idea. I must be happy.”
“Do you want to get a burger? It’s my treat.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said.
Arthur needed a beer and so did I. We went to Gritty’s. Bob Bob (Robert Robertson on his driver’s license) was behind the bar, a happy surprise for Arthur, because he was always happy to see Bob Bob, especially when he didn’t have to talk to him, as in this situation where Bob Bob was working. Bob Bob was a part of the Munjoy Hill household and was still housemates with Eva. He didn’t work full-time at the bar, but he knew the owner, who liked him and gave him shifts every now and then when his money was running low. Bob Bob must have been in his late thirties at this point. He wore his hair in a thick, brown ponytail that had a few silver strands racing through it. His eyes were glassy and his skin had an unnatural, paste-pink hue, but I could tell that he had once been handsome. Arthur told me that that was enough for a number of women.
We sat at the bar side by side.
“This is Katherine,” said Arthur. He spoke with a forced casualness.
Bob Bob smiled warmly and shook my hand. “I feel like I should say something witty and charming,” he said.
“So you’re Arthur’s new lady friend,” offered Arthur. “I’d be careful of this one.”
Bob Bob thought about this and then nodded. He smiled at me, as if he had actually said it. I ordered a burger and a Black Fly, which was one of the offered brews, despite the fact I had no idea what it was. Arthur had the fish and chips. I could see Bob Bob eyeing us while we ate. I thought he might be checking me out, but he seemed more interested in Arthur. I wasn’t surprised when he came over at the end of the meal and with great purpose, rested a heavy, veined hand on Arthur’s arm.
“You look great, man. You’re the shit.”
“Thanks,” said Arthur.
“You look…” said Bob Bob.
Arthur waited.
“You look fucking great.” Bob Bob smiled nervously.
Arthur raised his eyebrows in amused suspicion. “I like you too, but just as a friend.” They both started laughing.
“No,” said Bob Bob, “but I do have a favor to ask you.”
Arthur angled in to Bob. “I can’t say no until you ask me.”
“We’re playing at the Hole in the Wall next Friday. Can you play?”
The smile didn’t leave Arthur’s face, or even shift perceptibly. “No,” he said.
“We’re taking the door and it’s five bucks a person.”
“You could find someone else.”
“I could,” Bob Bob paused, “but someone’s coming out from Edge Records…”
“I think I’ve heard that before,” said Arthur.
“Well this time it’s true. He’s one of Park’s college buddies.”
“I don’t know.”
“Talk him into it,” said Bob Bob, turning to me.
“Why?”
Bob Bob thought about this for a minute. “I’ll owe you one,” he said.
Arthur was quiet on the way home. His hands gripped each other in his lap. He was shadowed by a grim, foreboding cloud that I should have known cast its shadow over us both.
“You think I did the right thing?”
“Clearly, I’m missing something.”
“I don’t know if it’s really good for me to be around those people.”
“Is this a drug thing?”
“Yeah,” Arthur drummed nervously on the dashboard with his forefingers. “I guess it is.”
“Don’t hang out. Leave right after you’re done.”
“Will you come?”
“Sure.” I gave Arthur a cautious look. “I know nothing is as simple as you want it to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes you want to stop doing something, but it’s not enough to want to stop. Something else has to happen.”
“But what does?”
“What?”
“What happens?” Arthur resumed drumming. “Nothing ever happens.”
We pulled into the driveway. I got out of the car and started heading to the house. Arthur paused by the car. He didn’t want to be presumptuous. I turned and looked at him for a minute.
“Red Sox are on tonight,” I said.
“I’m a Yankees fan.”
“They’re playing the Yankees.”
Arthur smiled and followed me, hands in his pockets.
I unlocked the door, which swung open quietly. The house had filled with darkness in my absence. The air was cold and damp. I felt around the wall for the light switch, because I couldn’t remember where the switches were located. Much of the wiring in the house seemed to be of the handyman/husband variety. Sometimes the light switches were even upside down. Arthur stepped inside. He still had his hands deep in his pockets. I could just make out his profile—the hook of his nose and his high forehead. He took a deep breath and looked at me, angling his head to one side.