Lipstick, Cigarettes and Wine

Harry had become uncomfortably familiar with the sluggishness of drinking. Senses generally dulled, sleepiness, the feeling of being apart from the world that had once hallmarked some Saturday nights now characterized most. Some weeknights too. They had had two bottles of wine between them tonight. He felt electric. Awake, alert, cold sober as he walked with Chris, holding her close.

He wanted to stop strangers on the street and introduce her to them. He wanted to get to a phone and call someone to tell them what was going on. He had friends near Brighton, in the south. He was in the same time zone, they had something like directory assistance here. Could he find Ian’s number? He smiled.

Then he didn’t.

Tell Ian what? I’ve been propositioned? I’m going to sleep with another woman tonight. Hey, that’s something a married man wants to broadcast.

Hi Ian, I’m gonna commit adultery in its purest sense?
Let’s tell someone shall we? Harry slid his arm back from Chris. She pulled away so he reached for her hand. No. Don’t go. This feels too good, but what is this feeling?

“You o.k.?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, fine, why?” ”Second thoughts?” ”Of what?” ”Going to bed with me. I don’t think Lou really let you get an answer out.” Harry feigned a chuckle. “Great timing. The man has great timing.” ”But I asked you.” ”What?” ”Are you having second thoughts? It’s all right. I was pretty straight forward with you.”

“Let’s walk a bit.” ”We just ate, huh?” ”Yeah.” Chris cocked her head at him, smiling. “If you’re tired or drunk, it might affect your performance, huh?” She squeezed his hand and her smile broadened.

“Well I wouldn’t say that but…” Harry caught himself before he launched into some chest-beating cliché of virility. Christ, do we all become eighteen when our performance is questioned? Fuck, what a regression! But after all that wine, maybe walking a little off wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Been awhile hasn’t it?” Chris asked.

“Yeah. You?” ”A long time.” ”Sorry.” ”We fuck all the time. At least, he does. He fucks me and gets off and gets his.” ”So what do you do?”

“I masturbate.”

“Alone? Sorry. That was a really stupid question. I didn’t say that.” Chris laughed. “We’re both on the road a lot. I’m out of town, he travels for his company. It used to be ok. We’d hook up on the weekends and catch up. Lately its just releasing pent up anger, Hatred we’ve stored up in hotels or bars or wherever the fuck he is or I am. He doesn’t trust me and I don’t blame him. Of course, not like he’s Mister Truthful but its different for him, isn’t it? So we circle each other like angry, tired boxers. We want to quit but he’s not ready and when we get close enough we start hitting each other. I drink and smoke and do shit he hates, he hits me when he gets pissed off enough and probably has something of his own going on the road.” ”He hits you?” ”Yeah and I know, I shouldn’t take it so don’t go there. I know what a restraining order is and I’ve called the cops once and I’ve spent a lot of nights in hotels. They suck. Don’t go there. Anyway, he hasn’t done anything in a long time. He’s down to slamming doors and kicking furniture and I can deal with that.” Harry said nothing. Twilight was gone. It was night and they walked from one pool of streetlight to another. They were heading back in the direction of the hotel, but like a drunk walking a straight line they were veering through side streets off of Thayer, slowing down from time to time to feign interest in a shop window.

“We don’t have to do this Harry. Not if you feel uncomfortable. We can go home and go to sleep and no hard feelings. You seem like a good guy and you seem lonely and you care. You almost sprinted through the museum to make sure I didn’t get bored. I like that and I wasn’t bored, but you cared. I like to be cared about. Just for a while. Its been a long time. But if you don’t want to, just say so.”

They had come to a small square; Manchester place. It was one small block with a little garden in the middle. Really just a large roundabout. There was a metal spike fence that surrounded the garden and a sidewalk outside the fence. The garden and sidewalk were dark, the were only streetlights being on the outside of the square, by the apartment fronts. The trees in the garden cast long, dark shadows. They paused in the shadows, still holding hands, Chris half turned to him,

“I just hope you don’t.” she said. ”Don’t?” ”Say no. Say you want to go to bed. Huh? Now? Huh?” Chris moved closer. Harry tilted his head but did not move it closer to Chris’s face. Something was bothering him. Something was racing through his mind. It got back to the feeling of elation when he first put his arm around Chris. The feeling of joy of the two of them walking up the street together. The feeling that he wanted to tell the world about her, that she was attracted to him, that she desired him that, she needed him, cared about him. He wanted to shout all these things to the world. Look what Harry can do, look at what you didn’t think was possible, where he couldn’t go. He wanted to call all his friends with the news. But not really his friends...

He wanted to call Josette.

He wanted to, really wanted to call her. Now. Get her on the phone at four in the morning. Wake her up and tell her all about Chris. Tell her that he found another woman who didn’t give him the bullshit she gave him. Who didn’t care if he had another glass of wine, who tried to show interest in his passion for history or at least politely try. Who put up with walking arm in arm and didn’t pull away because it was uncomfortable or awkward or there was another store to go into. He wanted to rub her nose in it and he wanted to tell her because he had just realized something:

His marriage was over.

“Huh?” Chris asked. She had her one hand resting on his shoulder and her other arm around his waist, her hand running over his ass. “You o.k?”

He put his arms around her waist. His hands rested on the small of her back. He began to move tentatively lower.

“We going back? Huh? We going to bed?” she asked in a whisper.

“We’re…” and he was looking for the perfect thing to say, just the right thing, the heroic moment but there wasn’t any reason to talk. He pressed his mouth against hers and wrapped his arms around her and began to pull her blouse up. She clutched his ass and pressed herself against him. He pushed her back gently against the metal fence in the shadows around Manchester Place. They kissed. Fiercely, running their lips over each other’s, pushing, biting, pressing. Chris pushed her tongue into Harry’s mouth and he tasted the sum total of her that night: her lips, her lipstick, cigarettes and wine and he kissed her harder and she him.

They stopped for a moment. Chris smiled and looked up at him. “Second thoughts?” she grinned.

“No.” ”So now…”

He straightened the bit of blouse he had been pulling at and stepped back as far as he would allow himself from her. She pulled him back close, put her arm around his waist and holding each other they walked a block called Spanish Place back to the hotel on George street.