Trouble in Paradise

Thirty

It was nearly 7:30 and the sun was down when they settled in at the bar in the Gray Gull.

“I’d like a martini,” Jenn said. “Up, extra olives.”

“You got it,” Doc said. “Jesse?”

“Black label and soda,” Jesse said. “Tall.”

Doc put the drinks in front of them and put out a hand to Jenn.

“I’m Doc,” he said.

“Oops,” Jesse said. “Sorry, this is my, this is Jenn.”

“Hi, Doc.”

“Hello, Jenn.”

It was almost fall, and the summer crowd had mostly left. There were several empty tables and four or five stools available at the bar. By 9:00, the place was nearly full. Jesse was trying to nurse his scotch.

“Do you have to get up early?” Jenn said.

“I should be at the station by nine,” Jesse said. “But I always get up early. Seven is sleeping in for me.”

“Why do you get up so early?” Jenn said. “You didn’t used to.”

“Don’t sleep well,” Jesse said.

“Well, I think we should go,” Jenn said.

“Okay.”

Jesse paid the bar bill, left twenty percent for Doc, and walked out behind Jenn. Several people recognized her and stared covertly.

In the car, Jenn said, “It’s a long ride back to Boston, Jesse. I think I should stay with you.”

“Okay,” Jesse said.

What did “with” mean? He stifled the question. Let it play out, he thought.

His condominium was only five minutes from the Gray Gull. Inside, Jenn went straight to the living room and opened the French doors onto the little deck over the water.

“I love this view,” she said.

Jesse went and stood beside her on the deck. House lights were scattered brightly against the solid blackness of Paradise Neck. The salt sea smell of the harbor was strong.

“Funny how different this ocean seems,” Jenn said.

“Maybe we’re different,” Jesse said.

“That would be nice.”

Jesse felt compressed by the tension between them. He wondered if Jenn even felt it. She seemed perfectly in possession of herself. They were quiet. Jesse stood next to her, not touching her. Except for the sound of the ocean moving below them, the silence was crystalline. Maybe I can’t stand this, Jesse thought. Maybe I need a drink. To his left, the head of the harbor was darkened by Stiles Island where barely any lights showed. Everything faces the ocean, Jesse thought. Got their back to the town. He didn’t look at Jenn, though he felt her next to him the way he felt the pull of gravity.

“Jesse,” she said.

He turned. She had turned toward him. Her face was raised to him. Subtly, beneath the heavy ocean smell, he could smell her perfume. He opened his arms, and she pressed against him. He kissed her. She opened her mouth and kissed him back. He was conscious of his breath surging in his lungs, of the blood moving through the intricate riparian patterns of his arteries and veins, the electricity tracing his nerves and muscles. They began to fumble at each other’s clothes. Jenn broke away long enough to gasp, “Living room.” She pressed her mouth against his again as they stumbled into the living room. They went to the carpet and made love there. It was all visceral. Whatever sounds they made were inarticulate. In the darkness, hours after they had begun, they paused long enough to go into Jesse’s bedroom.

Jesse woke up in bright sunshine. He was lying on his back. Jenn was beside him, still asleep, in the crook of his arm, with her head on his chest. He looked at his wrist. His watch wasn’t there. He looked over at the alarm clock on the bureau. It was 10:40. He had not slept much past dawn since he’d come east. Actually, as he thought about it, he had not slept past dawn since Jenn started fucking Elliot whatsisname. Maybe he should have killed Elliott. He always regretted that he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he could have. He had shot people and maybe he would again. But just walk up and shoot him? Had he done so, he would never be lying here in the mid-morning sunshine, with Jenn naked beside him. He had been right not to... but he knew, and he smiled secretly in the still room at the knowledge, that there would always be, in one small compartment of his soul, the regret that he hadn’t. The seagulls were loud. The harbor smell was assertive. The French doors were still open.

Without opening her eyes, Jenn said, “Don’t make too much of this.”

“Okay,” Jesse said.

“It doesn’t mean we should move in together or start dating each other exclusively or get married or any of those things.”

“Right,” Jesse said.

“It just means we are fond of each other and maybe love each other and probably want to date each other again, and we’re grown-ups.”

“Correct,” Jesse said.

Jenn gave him the look. The same look he knew she’d had when she spoke of the other weather woman being on weekends.

“And,” Jenn said, “grown-ups fuck.”

“Do they ever,” Jesse said.

They lay together for a while, her head on his chest, his arm around her shoulder, then Jenn swung her feet off the bed and stood up.

Her hair was messy, and her makeup was smeared. Naked, she walked from the bedroom, following the trail of discarded clothing to the deck.

“Gee,” she said. “What possibly could have gone on here?”

“Nothing bad,” Jesse said.

“No,” Jenn said, “nothing bad.”