“Six-three.”
Her color was high and her fingers were knitting an invisible sweater.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” she said. “I’m highly attracted to him.”
Keeping my face neutral, I held eye contact.
She crossed her legs and touched an earring. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way about a guy.” Looking away. “Except for a few mistakes, I’m basically a virgin.”
I nodded.
“Big mistakes,” she said, “I grant you. But I’ve put them behind me.”
“Is that what you meant this morning when you said after what you’d been through you were a good judge of men?”
She muttered something I couldn’t make out.
“Lucy?”
Another mumble that sounded like “Take a look.”
I leaned closer.
Her mouth continued to work. She closed her eyes.
“I hooked. Okay?”
I didn’t answer.
“Just for a summer,” she said.
Remembering the ulcer, I said, “The summer you taught in Boston?”
“I was a bona fide virgin. Then I met someone at Head Start, the uncle of one of my students. Gorgeous, very charming, bright black guy. He used to come and pick the little boy up, and we started talking. One thing led to another. I thought I was in love. After we were together for a while, he asked me to be with a friend of his. I didn’t like the idea but I agreed. It ended up not being as bad as I’d thought—the friend was okay and he gave me a gift, some shampoo. L’OrÉal. I still remember that.”
Her eyes opened. Tears filled them.
“I was able to put myself in another place and get through it. And Raymond was so proud of me. Telling me he loved me, I was showing real love for him. Next week he brought another friend over.”
She threw up her hands.
“It was bad, but it could have been a lot worse. His other girls were all working on the street. He let me work out of a room. Clean, warm, color TV. He made sure I didn’t get any violent ones. The men came to me. It was almost like being popular.”
She let out a dead laugh.
“That’s it. My sordid past. Ten weeks of white slavery and mortal sin, and then I went on to Belding and Raymond found some other gullible idiot.”
Pushing hair away from her face, she forced herself to look at me. “I haven’t been with a man since then. Do you think I’m still too sullied for your best friend?”
“It took courage to tell me,” I said.
“Don’t worry about my having evil designs on him or being some freak-case co-dependent. When I say I’m attracted to him, I mean psychologically. His kindness, his solidity. I’m working up my courage to let him know how I feel. Is that okay with you?”
“You don’t need my permission, Lucy.” Thinking of the complications that were sure to come.
She stared at me.
“You don’t approve, do you?” Snapping her head down, she studied the floor. “Big mistake to tell you.”
“Lucy, it’s not—”
“I should have known,” she said softly. “You’re entitled to your feelings. I tell you I was a whore, it’s only natural you wouldn’t want me near your friend.”
“It’s not that at all.”
“Then what? Why does your face change when I talk about liking him?”
“There’s nothing terrible about that, or you. What goes on between you and Milo or anyone else isn’t any of my business.”
She studied me.
“Forgive me, Dr. Delaware, but that just doesn’t ring true. You’re a lovely man and I really appreciate all you’ve tried to do for me, but there’s something going on here, some kind of resistance. I’ve got a feel for things like that.” Another joyless laugh. “Maybe it comes from screwing ten strangers a day. You get good at gauging people quickly.”
She got up and walked across the room.
“Lucy flunks therapy. . . . Seeing Milo’s friend was a mistake—how can I expose myself to you and expect you to be impartial? How can I expect you to take any sort of voyage with a whore?”
“You’re not a whore.”