“Hello,” he said, “are you serving tonight? How late? Thank you very much.” He put the phone back on its cradle, said, “Good choice. They serve till eleven fifteen,” and was about to take her in his arms again when she said, “What time is it, anyway?” and sat up immediately and looked at her watch. “Oh, Jesus,” she said, “it’s ten to eight!”
“I’ll have a car run you home, don’t worry,” he said.
“Can you do that?”
“A phone call is all it takes.”
“I still have to go,” she said, and sat up.
“Half an hour,” he said. “I’ll call now, have you picked up at eight-thirty.”
“That’s not a half hour, that’s forty minutes,” she said.
“You’ll be home by nine.”
“That’s late.”
“Not if you met for dinner at six-thirty.”
“Andrew...”
He had already picked up the receiver again.
“No, wait, please.”
He waited. The dial tone hummed into the room.
“Please put the phone down. I have to talk to you.”
He wondered what she thought they’d been doing till now. But he put the receiver back on the cradle. She sat with the sheet draped over her middle, knees up, breasts exposed. She did not look at him when she spoke. She stared at her hands, instead, the fingers interlaced over her tented knees, the wide gold wedding band on her left hand.
“Getting here was very difficult tonight,” she said.
“It’s a long way, I know.”
“I’m not talking about distance.”
“Then...?”
“I didn’t like lying about where I’d been Monday, and I didn’t like lying about where I was going to be tonight. It’s difficult for me to lie, Andrew.”
“I can understand that. I’m sorry. I’ll call for the car right this...”
“It’s just that urging me to stay when I have to leave only makes it necessary for me to... to... Don’t you see, Andrew? If I’m late getting home... later than I should be... then I’ll have to tell another lie about why I’m...”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have...”
“But that’s not even the point. The point... Andrew,” she said, and turned to him, “the point is I’m not sure I can... I can keep on lying this way,” she said, and shook her head, and lowered her eyes and kept shaking her head over and over again. He took her chin in his hand. Turned her face toward his again. She looked up at him. Her eyes were beginning to mist.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“You’re not saying...?”
“I told you I don’t know what I’m...”
“If this is just a matter of...”
“I’m lying to my husband, I’m lying to my daughter...”
“You’ve never told a lie before, huh?”
“I’m not that sort of person. I don’t lie about things. I just don’t.”
“Never, huh?”
“Not to my husband.”
“About anything?”
“Never anything important.”
“Am I important?”
“That’s got nothing to do with...”
“I asked you a question. Am I important?”
“Yes.”
“Then lie about me,” he said, and picked up the receiver again. He dialed a number, waited, said, “Billy? I’ll need a car around eight thirty. Uptown to Eighty-First and Lex. Don’t be late.”
He put the receiver down.
“Okay?” he said.
She was staring at her hands again, the wedding band on her hand.
“I’ll send a car to get you next time,” he said. “Make it easier for you. Someplace away from the school. Maybe on Fifty-Seventh. That’s a busy street.”
“Who’s Billy?” she asked.
“Man who drives for us.”
“Women? Does he drive other women?”
“I do business with a lot of women. Yes, he drives other women.”
“Because I wouldn’t want him to think...”
“He’s used to it. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Used to it, she thought.
“Maybe I’ll take a taxi instead,” she said.
“Fine, if that’s what you’d prefer.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Fine,” he said, and picked up the receiver again, and dialed the same number again. “Billy?” he said. “Forget it,” and hung up.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, and nodded. “I’d better get dressed.”
“We have time yet.”
“You’re doing it again,” she said. “I tell you I have to leave, and you...”
“I’m sorry. When will I see you again?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, and got out of bed and went to where her clothes were draped over the chair.
“Next Wednesday night?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sarah,” he said, “don’t do this to me, okay? I love you, Sarah...”
“That’s impossible,” she said, “you can’t, you don’t. So please don’t say it again.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you don’t.”
“I do.”
She nodded, and sighed, and turned away from him. He watched as she began dressing in silence.
“Where can I call you?” he asked.
“You can’t,” she said.
“What time do you leave for work in the morning?”
“Seven thirty.”
“What time does your husband leave?”
“Sometime after that.”
“When does he get home?”
“Six or thereabouts.”
“And you?”
“Anytime between four thirty and six. But my daughter’s usually home by then. I’m never alone, Andrew, don’t you see? This is impossible. I can’t do this anymore. Really. I just can’t. It’s too...”
“Where do you have lunch?”
“The teachers’ lunchroom.”
“Is there a phone there?”
“A pay phone. But there are other teachers...”
“What time do you have lunch?”
“The fifth period.”
“What time is that?”
“Twelve thirty.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. What’s the phone number there?”
“I don’t know. Anyway, don’t call me.”
“Then you call me. And you can read me the number off the phone. I want to be able to reach you whenever I want to.”
She said nothing.
“Because I love you,” he said.
She still said nothing.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me that.”
“I’m asking. Do you love me?”
“I haven’t thought of anything but you since Monday,” she said. She was buttoning her blouse. Her hands stopped. “There hasn’t been anything but you on my mind since Monday. I think I’m going crazy,” she said, and shook her head and finished buttoning the blouse, and sat in the chair, and reached for her pumps.
“I feel the same way,” he said.
She stood up abruptly, smoothed her skirt, and walked to where she’d hung her coat in the closet.
“You haven’t said it yet,” he said.
“I have to leave,” she said, and put on her coat.
“I’ll get dressed,” he said, “come find a cab for you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m a big girl now.”
“But not big enough to lie for me, hmm?”
She did not answer him.
“Even though you love me,” he said.