Authors: The Demon
Linda remained silent, swallowing her disappointment, and watched Harry leave. And though she was disappointed at the way the day had ended, she was relieved when the door closed behind him. The awkwardness and embarrassment, and the tension they created, increased so rapidly, especially as they sat there silently looking at each other, that it became almost tangible and unbearable.
Linda continued to sit
at the table and sighed softly, still a little shocked by the suddenness with which a lovely day had turned into something so —so sad. Yes, I guess thats the word. Its too bad. Its really too bad. She quickly reviewed what had happened and what she had said and had no regrets. None whatsoever. No matter how she looked at it, or her feelings for Harry, which were deep and tender, she would still say the same thing again. There are just some compromises that cannot be made without compromising the foundation of your life. She sighed again and picked up the coffee cups and put them in the sink.
She looked around, then dumped the ashtrays and put them in the sink too, then put out the light and went to bed. She lay awake for a short time thinking of Harry, fondly, though greatly disappointed in him this evening, but accepting what had happened and the fact that it was over and done with and no thing and no one could change it. And, accepting, too, that she would not change what she had said, even if she could, the disturbance within her dissipated and she drifted into sleep.
Jesus krist . . . Son of a bitch. All screwed up. The whole rats ass thing is screwed. Just cant figure the son of a bitch
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out. Sitting there laughing and all of a sudden wham, its up yours. How in the hell did I let some broad bullshit me like that? I must be nuts. I shouldve just split. Hey, who needs it baby? Save it for someone else. Im not buyin it. See you later. Can you imagine that broad trying to lay that garbage on me? Who does she think shes kiddin? Just a big smile, a laugh and split. Or just pick her up and take her to bed. Thats probably what she really wanted. Coming on with all that mature bullshit and just sitting there waiting for me to call her bluff. Why didnt I do it???? Screw it. Why give her the satisfaction. Let her eat her heart out. Harry entered the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and the sudden closing in, and the tile and the lights, got him remembering the distant past when he drove Linda through a tunnel and that son of a bitch Davis was bugging him, and he waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal and shoved all that out the window or behind him or some such place, any place, he didnt care, he just didnt want to be bothered with that now. . . . When he came back from the bathroom, he sat down and as he listened to Linda, he gently took one of her hands in both of his and looked up at her and smiled and then gently kissed her finger tips and slowly her voice trailed off and he got up from his chair and walked around the table, still holding her hand, and kissed her gently on the forehead and then the eyes and the mouth and he could hear her sigh, almost inaudibly, as she slowly stood and their bodies burned against each other and without a word he led her to the bedroom....
Yeah, what is this shit you dont want to go to bed? You got to be kidding. . . . When Harry got back from the bathroom, they turned on the television and watched Abbott and Costello Meet the Wolf man, and they ate some more of the smelly cheese as they laughed and made comments from time to time, sitting on the couch feeling her warmth and listening to that lovely laughter, finishing the wine, then drinking coffee. They just sort of relaxed and laughed the night into a new day.... And Harry started to feel vulnerable as he drove along the Gowanus Parkway, the parkway seeming to be so side-
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lessly wide and lonely this time of night with just an occasional car going by. What a rotten day. What a rotten, stinking day. Try to swim and some jerk knocks into you, and when you try to relax on the beach, some mentally retarded brats go running around kicking sand in your face. The little bastards. The mattress seemed hard and lumpy and he kept adjusting and readjusting himself, trying to find a comfortable spot in the bed. And the fucking sun will be up nice and early and shine right in my eyes. No point even in trying to get any sleep. Rotten son of a bitch. Screw it. Everything. The whole damn thing.
O Monday, rotten Monday! The subways, the heat, the humidity, the smell, the people. There ought to be a law against fat slobs riding the subway. . . . O, well, the hell with it. I just hope Rae doesnt bug me. I really dont need that. The whole office will probably know what happened Saturday night before I even get there. Should have known better than to take out a broad in the office. Too damn many yentas. Probably get the stares and the looks. Maybe Raes vacation started Friday. Eh, whats the difference. Let them talk. Big deal.
Fortunately for Harry he had a lot of work and was forced to concentrate on it rather than continually dwelling on Saturday night, constantly replaying the scene and rewriting the script, over and over again. The work was demanding and he stayed consciously involved with it, but yet there was a disquieting feeling within him. He was especially aware of this at lunch time as he strolled through the streets, his work no longer occupying his mind. At times the feeling would get stronger and he felt he almost knew what it was, as if he felt he should apologize, but he was sure that couldnt be true, so he just shrugged it away.
Gradually he became aware of the fact that he was following a broad whose ass, barely covered by a miniskirt, was winking and blinking at him. It was really a beautiful ass. Nice and
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round and firm and smooth. He just knew it was smooth and —he stopped suddenly and blinked and shook his head. Hey, what the hell is going on here? He looked at his watch. Damn! A couple of minutes late already. Goddamn it. He turned and rushed back to the office, getting back about five minutes late. When he sat at his desk, he found that he was out of breath. Five minutes was no big deal, but he had planned on getting back five minutes early. He sat quietly for a few minutes, then pushed everything out of his mind with his work.
The ride to work the following day was a little more comfortable. He was less apprehensive. No one had bothered him the day before. No one had said anything about Saturday night. Neither Louise nor Rae tossed any digs or had any cute remarks to make. And, thank God, he did not have to have any contact with Linda. That was the thing that really bugged him. Even now he flushed and squirmed slightly when he thought of confronting her. And it was ridiculous. Why in the hell should he feel embarrassed? He didnt do anything. Not a damn thing! There was no reason for him to apologize. There was no reason for him to get himself involved in that nonsense. Forget about it and concentrate on his job. He had a couple of problems on his desk that really turned him on, that really had him thinking. . . .
But maybe they
had lunch yesterday and she told them about Saturday night and today theyll be ready with their little zingers or looks. Balls. I really dont need that kind of action. I/ll just bury myself in my work and they wont bother me. I/ll just make sure I dont end up on the elevator with them, or let them trap me into going to lunch with them. Harry knew what he had to do, and though he resented having to go to the trouble of doing it just so some old broads wouldnt bug him, he would do it anyway.
The morning went easily enough, and quite rapidly, as he stayed completely involved with his work. He thought of calling down for a sandwich and having a quick lunch at his desk, but decided against it and went out. After eating he de-
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cided to stroll around for a few minutes and get the kinks out of his neck. Actually, it was a beautiful day for strolling around. It wasnt too hot and humid and so it was comfortable in the shade, so he stayed on the shady side of the street and stretched his legs for a few minutes. . . .
I/ll be a son
of a bitch, ten after. Damn it. Again he turned and rushed back to the office. How in the hell did it get to be so late? And he wasnt even following a broad. Just sort of roaming around, maybe looking a little, like any guy would do. Thats all. Not even— O, shit. Now the elevators got to take all day. He could feel his feet squirming around inside his shoes as he waited for the goddamn elevator to get down so he could get back to his desk. Shit. A quarter after. I/ll be a rotten son of a bitch. Its about time. He jostled himself into the elevator and rushed back to his desk and quickly surrounded himself with papers.
After a few minutes he glanced around and realized that Wentworth wasnt in the office. Thank krist for small favors. He relaxed a bit and concentrated on his work, but found himself stopping from time to time to look around. Everybody just seemed to be doing their work, yet he continued to get this feeling that somebody was watching him, though Rae and Louise never seemed to be looking in his direction. It was strange, and very puzzling, how the feeling just seemed to grow slowly until he found himself looking around, again, against his will. He didn't really want to keep looking around, and actually he wasnt aware he was doing it until he was doing it. Screw it. He just turned back to his work. Again ...
And the damndest thing was that he still had that disquieting feeling after work too. He didnt exactly feel like someone was watching him as he rode home on the subway, but there was a vague disturbance sort of rolling around within him.
And the damn
thing was still there after dinner. He strolled up to Caseys and talked with the guys for a while and listened to them bullshit
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about the horses and the ball games, not really knowing what they were saying, then went home early. He went to his room and tried reading for a while, then closed the book and squeezed it and shook his head. It was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous. There really wasnt any reason why it should, yet something kept tugging at him in the back of his head. Shit! He tossed the book on the chair and called Linda.
Krist, it was a long time before she answered the phone. And the whole time it felt like his stomach was attached to his throat, and he was hoping she wasnt home, and at the same time he wanted to talk to her because he somehow sensed that that was the only thing that would calm this strange and disquieting feeling. It was an interminably long time before she picked up the phone, and by the time he heard her say hello, his fingers were starting to cramp from squeezing the phone so hard.
And then the fumbling hello, how are you? and the apology torturously squeezed out by the churning in his gut, and then the gradual relaxing until he was holding the phone loosely and was stretched out in his chair . . . and then the sound of her laughter and they chitchatted, and when they finally hung up he wasnt exactly certain just what he had said, or what she had said, but he knew that everything was all right. He was all quiet inside. Except for a little whirl of excitement, a whirl that seemed to grow a little when he thought about her laugh. Harry spent the rest of the evening thinking about Linda.
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6
Wentworth wasnt kidding when he said he was going to give him a lot of work. He really piled it on, and Harry thrived. He stayed late quite often, not out of necessity, but simply because he did not want to leave a part of a job in the middle, and wanted to see it through to the end before leaving.
There was another significant change too. He was almost leading a life of celibacy—at least for him. Thats not to say that he took a vow or a pledge with a solemn oath and sent it out to pasture; he still knew what it was for, but for him there was a vast difference. There were some nights when he just stayed home and read or studied, sometimes a couple of nights in a row (his parents developing a sense of security and hope, seeing their son starting to settle down), and he kept his activities to the weekends. As a matter of fact, he let a couple of weekends pass without even a serious thought of
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copping some broads drawers—not many, but it did happen on occasion.
And then there was Linda ... the Lady of the Laugh. The feelings Harry had when he was with her or thought about her perplexed him, primarily because he had never experienced such feelings. But with time they became more familiar and thus less and less disturbing until he was so accustomed to them that he found he enjoyed them. There was an excitement, yet there did not seem to be any tension. Actually, he could not tell exactly how he felt, but he did know how he did not feel. He knew what was missing, and what was missing he did not miss.
There were occasional lunches, dinners, movies or the theater, and on all those occasions, a lot of fun. Yeah, fun. Somehow that seemed like exactly the right word. It was not the hysteria of a Fire Island weekend, or the screaming at a ball game or the fights, or balling some chick and splitting before her old man got home ... or any one of those other fun things. Somehow no way in which he had used the word before fit how he felt now, but yet fun was the only word that registered within him when he thought of their times together.
Fun . . . walking along the street looking or not looking, talking or silent . . . Yeah . . . Fun tossing nuts to squirrels. Fun seeing Shakespeare in Central Park. Fun arguing over politics with a bleeding-heart liberal woman . . . No, that cant be fun. It just doesnt make sense. Political arguments— well they certainly werent arguments, but whatever they were . . . yeah, fun. Thats the only word. Linda the Laugh is fun. Jesus krist, thats goofy. You spend time with a woman doing all sorts of things and only one word sticks in your head, fun. Goofy. But thats the way it is. Fun. Fun.