“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I’ve never thought it unnatural to desire someone else. After all, it’s a long life to go through and be expected never to want another woman.”
“I’m not so sure I agree with you,” said Debbie thoughtfully. “I would have liked to remain faithful to one man.”
Oh hell, thought Michael, not a very auspicious philosophy.
“Do you miss him?” he tried again.
“Yes, sometimes. It’s true what they say in the glossy menopause magazines, you can be very lonely when you suddenly find yourself on your own.”
That sounds more promising, thought Michael, and he heard himself saying: “Yes, I can understand that, but someone like you shouldn’t have to stay on your own for very long.”
Debbie made no reply.
Michael refilled her glass of wine nearly to the brim, hoping he could order a second bottle before she finished her veal.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Michael?”
“If you think it will help,” he replied, laughing.
Debbie didn’t laugh. Michael tried again.
“Been to the theater lately?”
“Yes, I went to Evita last week. I loved it”—wonder who took you, thought Michael—“but my mother fell asleep in the middle of the second act. I think I shall have to go and see it on my own a second time.”
“I only wish I was staying long enough to take you.”
“That would be fun,” she said.
“Whereas I shall have to be satisfied with seeing the show in London.”
“With your wife.”
“Another bottle of wine please, waiter.”
“No more for me, Michael, really.”
“Well, you can help me out a little.” The waiter faded away. “Do you get to England at all yourself?” asked Michael.
“No, I’ve only been once when Roger, my ex, took the whole family. I loved the country. It fulfilled every one of my hopes, but I’m afraid we did what all Americans are expected to do. The Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, followed by Oxford and Stratford, before flying on to Paris.”
“A sad way to see England; there’s so much more I could have shown you.”
“I suspect when the English come to America they don’t see much outside of New York, Washington, Los Angeles and perhaps San Francisco.”
“I agree,” said Michael, not wanting to disagree. The waiter cleared away their empty plates.
“Can I tempt you with a dessert, Debbie?”
“No, no, I’m trying to lose some weight.”
Michael slipped a hand gently around her waist. “You don’t need to,” he said. “You feel just perfect.”
She laughed. He smiled.
“Nevertheless, I’ll stick to coffee, please.”
“A little brandy?”