“Well, let’s see…” He starts counting the years backward like it’s so damn hard. So, I help him out.
“Was it before or after you left the military?”
“It was before,” he answers and doesn’t say another word.
“That’s it?” I ask, unsatisfied with his answer.
“Well, what else do you want me to say?”
“Where did you meet? Do you have children?”
I watch him squirm from this obviously uncomfortable subject. He fidgets with the control panel to adjust the air conditioner as he starts to sweat.
“Well, where did you meet?” I ask again.
“We met at Harvard. She was a professor at the law school.”
Oh shit, no wonder he’s choking. He’s in an older-woman-younger-man situation.
“So what were you, her little boy toy?”
“Very funny, you got jokes. Go ahead, joke. I’ve heard all of them over the years.”
“So, I gotta ask. How old are you, Bishop?”
“Thirty-eight,” he announces modestly.
“I figured about right. So how old is she?”
He pauses, and then looks out of his side window like he doesn’t want to answer. Naturally, I ask again.
“Well? How old?
“She’s forty-eight,” he replies reluctantly.
“Damn. No shit. For real?”
“Yeah.”
“So what does she look like? Is she like Lena Horne still holding it all together or is she haggard looking?”
“She changed a lot after she found out we couldn’t have children. She took it pretty hard. Next thing I knew, food was her best friend and our relationship went south. It’s been a long thirteen years. The best years were the two we dated prior to when I left for overseas. I was away in the military, so there wasn’t too much I could do to help her. When I came home during leave, she was always angry with me for being away. My visits never amounted to much.”
“How has it been since you returned home? Things must have improved ’cause you’re still married.”
“To be honest, things got better—not great, but just better. She joined a weight loss program and I developed an exercise program to complement her diet. She did good and lost seventy-five pounds. Our friendship improved, but our relationship never really got back on track.”
“So, if things improved and she got control of her depression, and your friendship improved, why not build upon that instead of cheating on her?”
“Connie, you don’t understand. It’s more complicated than that.”
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, what’s so complicated?”
He pulls into the Park and Ride at the Lenox Mall Marta station. A scrawny man approaches the car and Bishop unlocks the doors. I use every second to my advantage.
“Well, what’s her name?” I know I’m pressing my luck. I got a fifty-fifty chance he’ll tell me his wife’s name. But surprisingly, he does.
“I call her Bernie. Now, can we drop this?”