Jack stared at the mirror in the men's room of O'Brien's and tried to convince himself he did not look all that bad. He tightened the knot of his Perry Ellis silk tie--the one she had given him for his birthday. He pulled the comb from his back pocket and straightened the part in his hair. Up until a few months ago he used to pluck out the gray. Now there was too much. Well, he had seen something of life, no doubt about that. A speck of dried blood had crusted over the spot just under his jaw where he had cut himself that morning. He dipped his forefinger under a stream of warm water and washed the scab away. But there was nothing he could do about his eyes.
Someone flushed. In the long mirror Jack saw a drooping man in a dark suit emerge from one of the stalls. He slouched up to the row of sinks. It was a decent suit, a navy chalk stripe that hung like worsted wool, but somehow it reminded Jack of a new paint job on a junk car. The button just above his belt had popped open. His face was as dreary as a used tea bag. He looked the way Jack felt.
As the guy was soaping his hands, he peered at Jack's reflection and said, "You're in love, aren't you?"
"What?" Jack was startled. "Why do you say that?" It was something he had been wondering about himself.
"You have the look."
"And what's that?"
"Trying to find yourself in mirrors." He unwound a paper towel from the dispenser. "Married, aren't you?"
Jack nodded cautiously; he was wearing his ring.
"But it isn't her."
At that moment, Jack knew what he ought to do was walk. Get out of there. It wasn't his style to put up with this kind of crap. Except that the guy was right. "No," he said. "It isn't." He turned on the hot water and watched himself wash his hands.
The guy didn't say a word until Jack finished. "This woman--she ever make you cry?"
Jack sniffed at the absurdity of it. "No way."
"And when you're in bed with her, do you ever make, like, sounds?"
Jack did walk then. He couldn't believe he had stayed as long as he had. Humoring weirdos in the men's room--he shook his head in amazement. A new low.
He glanced at his watch as he came into the lobby. Suzanne was already late. He tugged his sleeve back into place and crossed to the bar.
He crossed the lobby to the heavy oak pedestal that defended the entrance to the dining room. The maître d' was behind it, taking names: O'Brien's was always jammed on Fridays. A handful of people were standing in line. Jack cut around them. The maître d's smile was stretched a little thin as he shrugged and told Jack that he could seat him immediately if necessary but that of he really wanted that table with the view of the harbor, it would be another ten or fifteen minutes. Would he like to wait in the bar? Jack glanced at his watch. She was already late. He tugged his sleeve back into place and said the bar would be fine.
He sat at a table the size of a Cadillac's hubcap and a waitress came right over. He ordered a manhattan for himself. Susanne was never late; it was one of the things he liked best about her. She was more organized than most men he knew. She was more organized than most men he knew. She knew exactly what she wanted and when she wanted something, she didn't hesitate to go out and get it. No wasted motion. Jack had been thrilled when one of the things she had wanted was him. He had told her more than once how it was the thrill of his life.
He wondered what was going on with her. The drink came and the first thing he did was eat the cherry out of the manhattan. When he went out to eat with the family he always had to give the cherry to one of the kids. He thought again about leaving the kids. Leaving Anne. Kissing off seventeen years--of what? Pork chops, sitcoms, and bad sex. She had given him the most boring years of her life. Of course, he knew she would make him pay. There would be child support for sure, maybe alimony. He'd lose the house, all that antique furniture that no one could sit on. He sipped his drink. Good fucking riddance. He thought he could do it. If he told Susanne today, they could even be together by that weekend and the week after that and from then on. Happily ever after. World without end, amen. It seemed doable. He took another sip. It seemed very doable.
The man in the blue suit pulled up the chair next to him. "Sorry if I offended you."
Jack gave him an arctic stare. "The seat is taken."
The man sat anyway. "I don't know what's happening to me. Haven't been myself." He laid his head in his hands. "Haven't been anyone, really. Look, I'll leave as soon as she comes. Okay? Just let me sit a minute. You don't have to talk, don't even have to listen. It's just ... Please."
Jack scooted his chair around and gave the creep his back. Still, he was worried. He had enough troubles, didn't he? And how did the guy know he was waiting for Susanne? Another lucky guess? Maybe ignoring him wasn't enough. Maybe he ought to get someone to throw him out. But Jack didn't want to be in the middle of sorting out this mess when Susanne finally came.
"My wife left me about a month ago. I didn't have a clue ahead of time. She said she'd been seeing someone else and she was in love. Makes you wonder, you know. While she was in love with him, what was I in? A fantasy world, I guess. The Twilight Zone."
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