Lamb

The first Monday after his father’s funeral, a dark belly of heavy, low-hanging sky split open before the first line of daylight had cracked the eastern horizon. Rain splashed against the concrete and pooled in colored puddles of grease. The chilly images a forerunner of winter, an early glimpse of those dark mornings and afternoons that fill a Midwesterner’s heart with dread.

Miserable in jeans and his father’s ball cap nearly soaked a dark and even blue, David Lamb went in early to work, to pack up and clear out his desk. When Wilson came by in his long coat, still shaking out a cool slime of rain from his dark umbrella, Lamb sat down on the edge of his desk and faced the doorway.

“I’m sorry, David.” Wilson stood in the doorway. There may have been a time when Wilson would have called him Lamb. Would have had David and Cathy over for dinner with his wife and two daughters at Wilson’s house in Evanston, the kitchen full of clear, steady light glancing off the metal lake outside the French doors.

There was a time ten years earlier when he and Wilson met after work to talk about the five-year plan, the ten-year, and the twenty. Cheerfully bent on establishing their own firm, and equal partners. They took a vacation together, then two, with their wives, with Wilson’s girls.

“He was a good guy,” Wilson said.

“Thanks.”

Wilson held a stainless-steel mug of coffee before him like an offering, raising it a little in anticipation of stepping back and excusing himself.

“It’s been one thing after another,” Lamb said.

“Family in town?”

Lamb nodded. “Staying with me and Cathy.”

Wilson looked down at his shoes, his ears red. “You’ve kind of made a mess of things here, David.”

“With the girl.”

“With the girl.”

“She’ll be all right. She just needs not having me around for a while.”

“It puts me in a hell of a spot.”

“I can appreciate that.”

“She know you’re leaving today?”

Lamb said nothing.

“Jesus, David.”

“Will you give me a few weeks, Wilson? I just need a few weeks.”

“She doesn’t know you’re divorced, either.”

Lamb’s face warmed. “You talked to Cathy.”

“Months ago, David. July.” It could not have been an easy conversation for a man like Wilson. “There are real limits to what I can do here. This is all sort of beyond what I know how to deal with.”

Lamb said nothing.

“This is a great position for Linnie, David. And she’s good for us.”

“I know it.”

“Don’t wreck her career. Take your three weeks. Take a full month, okay? Figure it out.”

“I understand.”

“I want you here, David. We all want you to stay. In spite of. Everything.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll carry your accounts till we hear from you.”

“I can keep them.”

“No.” He stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll tell Karen to forward your calls. It’s only a few weeks. You just go.”

Leaving the office, a cardboard box under his arm, he ran into Linnie in the lobby in the long blue raincoat he bought her.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re in early.”

Water ran from the ends of her hair. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just making calls today,” he said. “Thought I’d work from home.”

He looked around, lifted her chin, and kissed her lips and the corners of her mouth.

“Can you come to dinner?” She stepped back a little on one foot and looked out at the rain, sorry to be asking. “I have this really good wine.”

“I know what you have.” The heat rose in her face. She was a beautiful girl. Woman. He checked his watch. “I don’t think I can wait for dinner.”

“You say.”

He lowered his voice. “Will you open your raincoat for me?”

“David. We haven’t had a proper conversation in two weeks.”

“We had a proper conversation last night.”

Her face reddened. He loved to see it. “Come,” he said and took her hand. “Let’s take the stairs.”

In the stairwell she twisted her hand from his. “You know there are plenty of guys who would be happy to come sample my wine.”

“Lin.” He kissed her mouth. “You knew how this was going to be.” He kissed her neck. “Would you rather I just leave you alone?” He backed up. “This is just hurting you, isn’t it?”

Nothing.

“Am I just hurting you, Lin? Am I ruining your life?” She slouched into her hips and reached her arms around his neck. He untied the belt of her raincoat. “Okay?” The coat swished in the stairwell and her shoes echoed as she adjusted her feet. They listened and watched and moved slowly. He held her head in his hand to keep it off the cinder-block wall behind her. “Right?” he said. “Is this what we do?” She nodded her head in his hand. “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Say this is what we do.”

“This is what we do.”

She was retying her hair when Lamb pulled her in by the loose ends of her belt and pressed his forehead to hers. Both their faces damp and warm, their breath quickened. “You should let the world have you a little more than it does,” he said. “Go find your local alum chapter. Hang out with some of those young Princeton guys. Do it. Have them over for your wine. It hurts me to say, but it’s the truth. You should let one of them take you to the Nine and you should share a dessert and let him put his arm around you while you walk through the city.”

“Don’t.”

“Let me say this, Lin. It’s important for me to say it. You should. You should let him walk you to the end of the pier.”

“The pier is yours.”

His eyes filled. “Do you mean it?”

“It’s just how it is.”

He looked down at his hands. “It isn’t easy for me to say these things.”

“I can’t share myself like that David. I’m not like that.”

“Oh.” He let her go and leaned against the metal rail behind him. “I see.”

“No, come on. I wasn’t… I just need you to know that. It’s important for me to have you know it.”

“What do you want me to do with that information?”

“Just keep it for now.”

“Okay. You’ll tell me if there’s something else I ought to do with it?”

She nodded, and again he kissed her mouth and her neck and her throat and told her she was the prettiest girl on the block, and that someday the world would be theirs and they’d have every day and every hour and every minute.

“Make your calls from here,” she said, the curled fray of her bangs dry now. Her eyes big. “We can do lunch here. On the stairs.”

He looked at his watch. “I’m already on my way to being late.”

“Okay.”

“I have a life, Lin. There are certain things I need to do.”

“I know.”

“Listen. I’m not stupid. I know I don’t deserve you. No. I don’t. And I know I’m lucky to have you now.”

“Come over tonight. Please.”

He went down the stairs where his box of papers and junk sat propped against the heavy door. “If you don’t hear from me tonight or for a couple of days, you’ll know I’m thinking of you, right? Doing the things I have to do so we can take a couple of days together.”

“We should go to the Michigan dunes before it gets too cold.”

“Bucket of chicken?”

“Bottle of champagne.”

“Good. Pick one out. And wait for me.” He opened the heavy door of the stairwell and went out.