Now and Then

17.

Do you think he’ll be all right?” Susan said.

I was pouring some scotch into a tall glass fi lled with ice. It took concentration to get it just at the right level.

“Doherty?” I said. “Yeah, I think so.”

I added soda precisely to the rim of the glass and stirred the ice around with the handle of a spoon.

“He’s an FBI agent,” Susan said. “He carries a gun. He comes from a culture that puts some premium on machismo.”

I took a sip of my scotch and soda. Perfect.

“He’s pretty tough,” I said. “He’s willing to take the shortterm pain for long-term gain.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it would be a source of great pleasure for him to shoot Alderson dead,” I said. “But it would probably ruin his life. And the satisfaction of remembering the shooting wouldn’t be enough to compensate.”

“Goodness,” Susan said. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“Yes,” I said. “He’ll move on.”

It was a Friday night. Susan had just come upstairs from her last patient of the week. She was wearing one of her subdued shrink outfits, a dark suit with a white shirt. The kind of outfit that says, It’s about you, not about me. She took the suit jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair. I smiled. She wouldn’t look subdued in a flour sack. The best she could do was to barely avoid fl amboyant.

“So it’s over as far as you’re concerned,” she said.

“The case?”

“Yes.”

She got a bottle of Riesling from the refrigerator and poured some for herself, and came and sat at the other end of the couch from me, with her legs tucked up under her.

“Not entirely,” I said. “I’d like to know what Jordan and Alderson are doing, and whether the FBI has been compromised.”

“Patriotism?” she said.

“I don’t want to see this guy lose his job, too,” I said.

“Because of his wife.”

“Because he told things he shouldn’t have told to a woman he thought loved him,” I said.

“They’d fi re him for that?”

“You bet,” I said.

“Maybe she did love him,” Susan said.

“Funny way to show it,” I said.

“Maybe she was doing what she had to,” Susan said.

“Maybe we all are, all the time,” I said. “But if you really believe that, there’s not much point to either of our jobs.”

“Yes,” she said. “Even if it’s an act of self-deception, it’s one we need.”

I smiled.

“So we aren’t exactly free,” I said, “even to believe in free will?”

She stuck her tongue out at me.

“Oh, pooh,” she said. “It’s an academic game. We both believe in individual responsibility, and we both know it.”

I smiled at her.

“And if we didn’t before, we do now,” I said.

Pearl had been asleep in the big leather wing chair across from us. She rose quite suddenly and came and stared at us.

“Has Timmy fallen down a well?” I said.

“It’s suppertime,” Susan said. “She wants Daddy to feed her.”

“I would have said she was looking at you,” I said.

“Did you go to Harvard?” Susan said.

“No.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” I said.

“She wants her daddy to feed her.”

“Sure,” I said, “now that you’ve explained it.”

I got up and went to the kitchen and gave her a bowlful of dog food and came back to the couch. Pearl ate noisily. Susan 69 looked at me over her wineglass. She had big eyes, which she made up artfully.

“I hope you don’t get mired in Doherty’s issues,” she said.

“I hope I don’t get mired in anything,” I said.

“It wouldn’t be too hard to do with Doherty,” she said. Pearl finished her supper and came in and looked at us again. I got up and gave her a cookie for dessert. While I was up I got myself a second drink and brought it back to the couch.

“Because of what happened to us twenty years ago?” I said.

“What do you think?” Susan said.

Pearl came in from the kitchen and wedged herself between us on the couch and put her head on Susan’s thigh.

“I’ve thought of it,” I said. “It resonates.”

“Want to talk about it?” Susan said.

“Sex might make it better,” I said.

“You think sex makes everything better,” Susan said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Susan said. “Let’s see.”