Enough About Love

THOMAS AND LOUISE

• •

I remember when rock was young,

Me and Suzie had so much fun,

Holding hands and skimming stones,

Had an old gold Chevy and a place of my own,

But the biggest kick I ever got

Was doing a thing called the Crocodile Rock

Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s song dates back to the sixties, but the Farfisa organ and its honky-tonk have not aged that much. Louise has danced to “Crocodile Rock” so many times that it reminds her of being thirteen as readily as it does of being thirty. Later, she does not yet know this, it will remind her of being forty. After a Radiohead song, Thomas was out of breath and he abandoned Louise for a stool by the bar. She is spinning in some tall blond guy’s arms, her skirt twirling up. Louise has had a bit to drink.

The tall blond man is called Boris, and Thomas has gathered the fact — because the guy was going to great lengths to make it known — that he has a talk show on a cable channel. He is a pretty good-looking boy, the sporty type, with a very newscaster haircut, probably the best catch at this party. He is taking a very close interest in Louise. Earlier, when they were chatting, Boris stood facing her, his shoulders turned toward her, his head bent slightly forward, blinking his eyes rapidly and looking away a couple of times. Thomas had no trouble recognizing these instinctive codes of seduction that behaviorists have identified. Louise herself is not entirely indifferent to his efforts. She did that thing, brushing aside a lock of hair, which with her is a sign of tension.

They are dancing and Boris is holding her to him, caressingly. With every move, Louise’s top rides up, baring her skin, and Boris puts his hand on her hip to turn her. Thomas discovers a feeling of almost physical jealousy that he did not know he had in him. When “Crocodile Rock” comes to an end and Boris suggests they continue dancing to a less feverish number, Thomas intervenes.

“Do you mind?” he says with a smile. “I’m just going to borrow my wife from you for one dance.”

The tall blond man pretends to be amazed, but bows and kisses Louise’s hand before moving to the bar. Louise’s cheeks are pink from so much exertion. She relaxes indolently in his arms, rests her head on his shoulder.

“I never saw you as macho and possessive.”

“I have to admit it was beginning to bug me watching him maul you. I’d also had enough of you wriggling about like that, in a state of excitement.”

Louise steps back for a moment and gauges Thomas’s expression. He was not joking.

“Excitement?” she protests. “And you say I was wriggling?”

“Yes. And I can also say you smell of alcohol, my love.”

“You’re not my father.”

Louise stumbles, Thomas catches her and laughs.

“I’d just like to point out that you’re drunk. And I will concede that the guy’s not bad looking.”

“Better than that. He’s a really good dancer.”

“Granted. Still, he was holding you a bit too close for my liking.”

“Are you jealous?” She cocks her head.

“Yes, I’m jealous. Wasn’t your husband ever?”

“Romain trusted me completely.”

“It must just be me then, I know you can leave a man.”

“I’m certainly not going to leave you for some Boris Fern.”

“Oh? Is his name Fern?”

“If you put the TV on from time to time,” she replies, “you’d know that. Everyone knows him. But I’m not the sort to fall in love with a TV announcer. I prefer psychologists who bet at the races. Are you picking a fight? Is that what’s going on, you’re picking a fight?”

“I’d never pick a fight with you. It would be stupid, and inappropriate. But when I’m jealous, I’ll say so.”

“I love you, you idiot,” Louise whispers. “Anyway, you know that when I go out it’s to show off my ass.”

Thomas smiles, kisses the nape of her neck. In spite of everything, he doesn’t actually mind if she shows it off, that ass of hers.