Mary-Ellen’s hands made a helpless flutter. “What do you expect me to say? Do I love him? What a question! We’ve been married nearly sixteen years. We have three children.”
“Do you love him?”
“I did. I think maybe I still do … but it’s not so easy to tell anymore.”
“He said you agreed to a divorce after he’s re-elected.”
“Yes.”
“But why?” Kinsman asked. “Why are you letting him do this to you? Why are you taking it like this?”
“What else can I do? Wreck his career? Would that bring him back to me? Threaten him? Force him to stay with me? Do you think 1 want that?”
“What the hell do you want?”
“I don’t know!”
“You’re lying,” Kinsman said. “You’re lying to your- self.”
Tears were brimming in her eyes. “Chet, leave me alone. Just go away and leave me alone. I don’t want . . .” She could not say anything more; she broke down.
Kinsman took her in his arms and held her gently. “That’s better. That’s better. I know what it’s like to hold it all inside yourself. It’s better to let it come out. Let it all out.”
“I can’t . . .” Her voice was muffled, but the pain came through. “I shouldn’t be bothering you . . .” 254
“Nonsense. That’s what shoulders are for. Hell, we’ve known each other a long, long time. It’s okay. You can cry on my shoulder anytime. Maybe if I’d had the sense to cry on yours when I needed to . . .”
She pulled slightly away, but not so far that he could no longer hold her.
“We have known each other a long time, haven’t we?”
“All the way back to Philadelphia,” he said.
“I’ve known you as long as I’ve known Neal.”
“I was jealous as hell of him,” Kinsman remembered.
“He … he said I’m … he said that I couldn’t give love. That I’m incapable of it.”
Kinsman grimaced. “I haven’t been able to give love to anyone for years.”
A new look came into her eyes. “Is that what happened to you? All those rumors …”
He pulled her closer and kissed her. Gray-eyed Athena, goddess of wisdom and of war, I’ll take you over treacherous Aphrodite every time. Their hands moved across each other’s bodies, searching, opening, pulling clothes away.
Still half-dressed, he leaned her back on the couch and was on top of her, into her, before the picture of the dead cosmonaut could form in his mind. He heard her gasp and felt her clutching him, hard, furiously intense, alive, molten, burning all the old bad images out of his brain. Everything blurred together. He found himself sitting on the edge of the couch beside her, staring into those strong, wise gray eyes. Wordlessly she got to her feet and led him to the bedroom. She shut the door firmly. In silence they finished stripping and went to the bed. They made love and dozed, alternately, until the sun brightened the curtained windows.
“God,” she murmured, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, “you’re like a teenager.”
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
He showered alone, and when he came back into the bedroom to dress she had gone. He found her in the kitchen, wrapped in a shapeless beige housecoat, munching a piece of dry toast as she sat at the counter that cut the room in half. An untouched glass of orange juice stood on the counter before her.
“Hungry?” she asked, wiping toast crumbs from her lips. “I’ll get something from the cafeteria in the Pentagon,” he said.
“Have some juice, at least.” She pushed the glass toward him.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Suddenly they were both embarrassed. Kinsman felt like a sheepish kid. Mary-Ellen stared down at the toast on her plate.
He did not know what to say. “I … uh, guess I’d better be going now.”
“It’s awfully early. I don’t think the buses are running this early.”
He shrugged. “I’ll walk for a while.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
And they both broke up. Kinsman lifted his head and roared. Mary-Ellen laughed with him,