The Nirvana Blues (11 page)

“You know, Joe, I think it would be really interesting to have a relationship with you.”

His stomach sent messages up to the brain:
Start functioning, kid. Wake up! Be alert!
“What kind of relationship?” he asked.

“That would depend. I really believe there's been a certain chemistry working between us for a long time. You may not have been aware of it, but I was every time we had a conversation. I definitely know that something between us was meant to be. Haven't you ever been able to focus in on the energy?”

Warily, Joe shook his head. “Not really. I don't think so.”
Don't hurt her feelings,
an inner voice coached.
Get the hell out of here, turkey!
another voice warned. A third voice cautioned,
Stick around, pal, something interesting might develop.
A fourth counseled greedily:
If you want to, you can ball her.
Then a fifth voice chimed in:
Ball her, idiot, and if you think you were up the creek without a paddle before tonight, well let me tell you something, Miniver, you ain't seen nothing yet!

Was all of this innocent friendly palaver? Or, suddenly, was he looking down the barrel of a very complex, very clever, very devious human being with designs on his ass?

“I mean,” he added, unwittingly sculpting his grave, “I've always been attracted to you. You're, you know, you're a very lovely woman. But…” In desperation, he grasped at a straw: “Uh, how old is that Doberman, by the way?”

Nancy had become intense. Joe didn't understand it exactly. Her speech sounded almost lazy, good-natured humor beamed from her pretty eyes. On the surface she was just another genial, casual chick, disarmingly regular and pleasant. Why then did he flinch every time she opened her mouth?

“Tell me truthfully, Joe: would you like to start something with me?”

“Start what? I mean, what do you mean when you start talking about starting a relationship?”

“Well, naturally we'd have to define it. It wouldn't necessarily have to be sexual.”

“But I'm getting all these sexual vibes.”

“Of course, it
could
be sexual. But it doesn't
have
to be anything, don't you understand? There wouldn't have to be any pressure attached. It's the pressure that always confuses people and scrambles their energy.”

“But we're already friends. So in a sense, we've already started something. Naturally, I'd be glad to continue being friendly. I enjoy talking to you.”

“It could be a lot deeper, however, than just the superficial relationship we've had in the past.”

“Yeah, okay. But I don't think I understand exactly what you're driving at. I'm getting all kinds of confused signals.”

“Suppose we made love. Tell me frankly, do you think you would want to go to bed with me?”

Ah-hah! “If I wanted to hopelessly complicate my life and lose my wife, yeah, I guess I could enjoy going to bed with you.”

“You don't really sound as if you'd like it, then.”

“I wasn't aware that's what we were dickering over.”

“Dickering?”

“Well, I mean, I didn't think…”

“It's not important, the sexual thing so much, as what we could give to each other if we just let ourselves get that close.” Smoke issued languidly from her nostrils. “I think we could share some very relevant things.”

Joe had a brilliant idea. It sent electricity all the way down into his toes, and beyond. “Why don't we shack up, right now, just once? Just for fun. Just for a lark.”

“I wouldn't want it to be that way. That doesn't make any sense.”

“But I got a wife, I got kids. I'm trying to hold a family together.”

“I understand. Our relationship wouldn't interfere with any of that.”

“But if we balled, how could that not interfere with my family? I mean, Heidi would shit a blimp.”

“Well, of course, I don't know all that much about Heidi. But there would be no reason whatsoever for her to feel any kind of jealousy toward me.”

“Wait a sec.” Joe leaned forward. “Lemme get this straight. When you were married to old what'shisname, to old Carter. Suppose you decided to shack up with somebody else. You mean to tell me that that wouldn't have made him flip his biscuits?”

“Actually, we had what we claimed was an open marriage.” She eyed him curiously—taking his measure?

“Did it work?”

She laughed, and her laughter mollified his pounding ticker. “No, of course not.”

“Well, there you go.”

“But we wanted it to work. We both knew that for either of us to be happy, it had to work. We just hadn't grown up enough, while we were together, to make it work.”

“Although you are looking at a man who has registered thirty-eight years on the surface of this planet,” Joe said, “it so happens that I have an emotional age, especially when it comes to sex and jealousy and other assorted accoutrements to the emotional rat's nest that surrounds the introduction of the penis into the vagina, of a three-year-old.”

“It doesn't have to be that way all your life. You have so much potential, you just need to recognize it, that's all. That's why I'm really interested in you. I keep feeling that I could lead you into a realm that would really blow your mind.”

“Blow my ‘mind'?” he leered coyly.

She shifted, ever so slightly, but in a way that translated to him as icily provocative. The merest budging of a haunch called his attention to that haunch as an almost deliriously attractive portion of her anatomy. When she dropped her shoulders back a fraction, minutely altering the thrust of her bosom, Joe wanted to grind his teeth. How did people learn such tricks?

Sasha leaped onto a drape at the north end of the couch, by Joe's feet. He scrambled up to the rod, which popped free of the copper hookholder, spilling Sasha, enveloped in the drape, back onto the couch atop Joe's ankles. Twittering frantically, the little beast punched and clawed at the muffling material, trying to free himself.

Nancy said, “If nothing else, perhaps we could try each other out, experimentally, just to see what might happen. Personally, I don't like one-night stands. I've never gone to bed with anyone simply to get my rocks off.”

“Suppose you really feel horny, though, but you haven't got a steady old man?”

“I dislike it, but sometimes I masturbate. It makes me nervous, yet it's better than getting involved with somebody in an uncaring way.”

“But if we made love—let's say if we went to bed right now—well, that'd be pretty cold and deliberate.” Sasha's little fists continued to flail at the heavy material engulfing him. He chattered hysterically. But if Nancy could ignore him, then what the hell?—so could Joe.

“No it wouldn't, Joe. You're not hearing me. I don't feel that way about you. I think if we made love that something incredibly beautiful would happen. It might be a terribly intense and special interaction. We could create a whole new reality.”

Okay—he had a hard-on. His shoulders pulsed with sexual anticipation. The bundle of drapery rolled onto the floor, unraveling in the process: Sasha popped free looking positively apoplectic, and sprang into Nancy's arms for soothing comfort.

“The problem is, Nancy, if we went ahead and balled tonight, that's all it would be, just a one-night stand.”

“You say. But you can't possibly know before the fact.”

“But I love my wife and the kids. I couldn't jeopardize that.”

“You wouldn't be jeopardizing those things. I already explained that. Those things are precious beyond belief. Ours would be a separate reality.”

“Yet you're willing to mess with my family, and you have no guilt?”

“I'm not ‘messing' with them. You wouldn't go to bed with me unless you wanted to. And if you wanted to, it means that I have something to offer you that you're not getting, and you know it. People reach out for things they need. There are no accidents in life.”

Joe said, “I don't think I could trust you not to get involved with me in a way that I couldn't handle.”

“If you wanted to handle it, you could handle it. Easily. It's merely a question of accepting your own needs and desires. Without guilt.”

“Listen: first off, I already got a relationship. With Heidi. It's complex, aggravating, tenuous. Scary sometimes, also; often bitter; and usually pretty loving.” Sasha left Nancy's embrace, plucked a newspaper from the wastebasket, and began methodically tearing it to shreds. “And it's not just between her and me, it's between her and me and the children—we're all intertwined. From time to time, it makes me very happy. It also has me climbing the walls. Often I think I can't take it anymore, I need a divorce. Otherwise I'll be dead before I'm fifty. Too much angst, it ain't worth it. Naturally, when I consider divorce, I start thinking about other women, having affairs, all the crap that goes on when you're out in the arena. In fact, sometimes it feels like I've spent half my life tormenting myself with sexual fantasies.”

“Normal enough. We all do.”

Sasha walked over to the Doberman and dumped an armload of shredded newspaper onto its head. Gloomily, the dog snarled.

“Yeah, sure, but you should understand something. Even while I'm tormenting myself I'm thinking I probably wouldn't ever be able to act on one of those fantasies. Who needs to jump right into another profound relationship? Not me. And yet everybody always wants to get you into a relationship.”

“Maybe you just never had the type of relationship that would make you see how beautiful one could be.”

“And you would offer that?”

“Let's put it this way. I've gone through plenty since I divorced Carter and came to Chamisaville. I may not have all the answers, but one thing I do know is that I'm not afraid anymore.”

“Afraid of what?” Sasha quit tormenting the dog and turned on the TV.

“I'm not afraid to ask for what I want. I'm not afraid of what other people think—I used to be terrified of that. I couldn't shit, piss, or spit for fear of what other people would say. That's no longer a problem. I do what I want.”

“Well, I guess you're lucky.…” Guns, bombs, and bullets cavorted soundlessly on the wide-screen Zenith. “I guess one of my major problems has been that I've spent an awful lot of time doing what I thought other people wanted me to do, or what I thought I ought to do, rather than what I myself really needed to do.”

“That can be a fairly negative trip to lay on yourself.”

“But the thing is…” He was straining awkwardly, convinced he shouldn't be revealing such private thoughts to this laid-back enchantress. “The thing is, much of what I feel I
ought
to do
is
important. My instincts, my conscience are good, ethical, valuable. For example, loyalty to Heidi. And keeping the family whole. Working to build roots, make the kids happy, create a solidarity in their lives with strong, familial love.…”

Sasha grabbed the sound knob and turned it on full blast.

“I agree with you a hundred percent,” Nancy said. “Sasha, turn that down a little.” She reached back and did it herself. “Honestly, that monkey.” And then: “No other hopes and dreams could be more valid.”

“And the other drivel that can torment me—sexual fantasies, wanting affairs, wanting to be in the hay with you right now—that's bullshit. It's very shallow.”

“Not ‘shallow,' Joe. It's just some other perfectly valid feelings and expectations and desires, that's all.”

Sasha disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

Exasperated, also almost woozy from anticipation, Joe said, “Look, let's say we decided to ball. Right now. In five minutes. Before I even took one sock off, I would have to make certain that you would abide by my rules.”

“What are your rules?”

“First of all, I don't want a deep relationship. It would have to be a casual thing. I'm too messed up right now to deal with more complexity, thanks anyway. There couldn't be any love in it, you know? I would refuse absolutely to get emotionally involved. No commitments.”

“What about
my
rules?”

Something crashed in the kitchen.

“What about them?”

“I couldn't start anything unless I knew it was open-ended. There would have to be room for all possibilities to happen. I could never be involved in anything so cold-blooded as you suggest. I know that it's very possible to love more than one person at a time, and I know that the real thrill in life comes from being open to emotional growth. Otherwise, relationships just turn into bummers, and I've done my share of bummers. But I've learned my lessons, I've graduated beyond that now.”

“Then there's no problem.” Joe leaned back, his wistful disappointment partially defanged by enormous sensations of relief. “I wouldn't start anything with you on your terms, you wouldn't start anything on my terms. Exeunt omnes, chased by bear. Thanks for the hot chocolate. Now I gotta run.”

“I could brew you some more.”

“What time is it?” He checked his watch. “Jesus, look at this, it's almost four o'clock in the morning.”

Covered from head to toe by organic honey powdered with Ovaltine, Sasha staggered balefully out of the kitchen. Nancy said, “Oh dear, look at that stupid monkey. I wish you wouldn't go, Joe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wish you would stay here.” She grabbed Sasha by one arm and lugged him, dangling unceremoniously from her hand, down the hallway into the bathroom, where she turned on the sink faucet, dumped him in, and began lathering his fur with shampoo.

Joe said, “But I thought we had just decided…”

“I know, I know,” she called. “But I like talking to you. You give me this incredible—how should I say it?—you give me a truly
peaceful
feeling inside. Despite our differences, I really feel at ease with you.”