he had a bittersweet bruise he could push whenever he felt like feeling sorry for himself.
“She’s fine,” Pete said flatly.
I winked at Julia, who turned to Pete. “Okay then . . . So how is Lee?”
He grumbled. “How should I know?”
Julia answered in a singsong voice. “Oh . . . I don’t know. Maybe Hitch said something.”
Pete glared past her at me. “What did he say?”
I leaned forward on the bar to address him. “I said I thought you’re goo-goo for Lee but that you’re determined nonetheless to make your marriage work.” I held up my glass in a salute. “I also said this was driving you insane, not to mention those who get within swatting distance of you.”
“ I’m insane?”
“In your slow, laconic way.”
Pete ignored this. To Julia he said, “Last I heard Lee was singing at a club down in Annapolis. I don’t know if she still is.”
“Annapolis, huh? Seems to be in the news a lot these days. At least in this bar.”
“Welcome to the small world,” Pete said. He switched to whiskey after his beer. I went ahead and joined him. “Make mine a double,” Pete said to Larry.
I held up two fingers. “Ditto, barkeep.”
Julia called out, “And they’re off!”
Julia told us that she had a date that evening with Eric the Red. She said he was taking her to a tractor pull down in Largo.
I commended her. “You’re really digging your hands into the soil with this one, aren’t you?”
“I don’t really think it’s going to last much longer,” Julia said. “I’m not cut out to be a biker chick.”
I licked my finger and drew an invisible hash mark in the air. “Onward.”
Julia took off to get ready for her date and Pete and I kept the bar stools company a while longer. I had been practicing card tricks lately and I pulled a deck from my pocket and tried out a few on Pete. He picked-a-card-any-card and after a couple of goof-ups I was able to produce the card from my shoe. Pete was unimpressed. Tommy Haircut had come into the bar with pretty Maria and the two of them were sitting off at a table under the neon Guinness sign. I went over to chat with them, then came back to the bar and cajoled Pete into picking another card. He did and I shuffled the deck. I asked Larry for four shots of Jameson’s, and when they arrived I called Tommy and Maria over.
“One, two, three, down the hatch.”
We tossed back our shots, then I reached into Tommy’s pompadour and produced a card. I held it up to Pete.
“Is that your card?”
Pete smirked. “Okay, so you’ve got a hobby.”
As the place began to fill up with the predinner crowd Pete and I migrated to my outdoor office, the rotting pier at the west end of Thames Street. We had a quarter bottle of Maker’s that I had confiscated from behind the bar when Larry wasn’t looking. The sun was dipping below the horizon, pulling a soft blue sky behind it. Pete and I took turns sighting the Domino Sugar sign across the harbor, using the bottle as our telescope. The red neon was brown and murky for a while, but after numerous sightings it began to clear up . . . which is more than I can say for Munger and Sewell.
We talked mainly about girls. Despite his earlier balking, Pete talked mainly about Susan. He gave me his theory that marriage is like a brick wall that both partners must beat their heads against equally if it is going to succeed. I had to admit that I didn’t find it to be a terribly hopeful theory, but when I said this to Pete he pooh-poohed me.
“I’ve been married for twenty-six years. It’s no easy sprint to the finish, believe me. You’ve just got to grapple your way forward somehow.”
“So marriage is about grappling and about beating your head against the wall,” I said. “You’re very inspiring, Pete.”
Eventually I rolled our conversation back around to Sophie. When I brought up Mike’s wedding ring for the second time Pete dropped a paw on my arm.
“Do you know what your problem
“She’s fine,” Pete said flatly.
I winked at Julia, who turned to Pete. “Okay then . . . So how is Lee?”
He grumbled. “How should I know?”
Julia answered in a singsong voice. “Oh . . . I don’t know. Maybe Hitch said something.”
Pete glared past her at me. “What did he say?”
I leaned forward on the bar to address him. “I said I thought you’re goo-goo for Lee but that you’re determined nonetheless to make your marriage work.” I held up my glass in a salute. “I also said this was driving you insane, not to mention those who get within swatting distance of you.”
“ I’m insane?”
“In your slow, laconic way.”
Pete ignored this. To Julia he said, “Last I heard Lee was singing at a club down in Annapolis. I don’t know if she still is.”
“Annapolis, huh? Seems to be in the news a lot these days. At least in this bar.”
“Welcome to the small world,” Pete said. He switched to whiskey after his beer. I went ahead and joined him. “Make mine a double,” Pete said to Larry.
I held up two fingers. “Ditto, barkeep.”
Julia called out, “And they’re off!”
Julia told us that she had a date that evening with Eric the Red. She said he was taking her to a tractor pull down in Largo.
I commended her. “You’re really digging your hands into the soil with this one, aren’t you?”
“I don’t really think it’s going to last much longer,” Julia said. “I’m not cut out to be a biker chick.”
I licked my finger and drew an invisible hash mark in the air. “Onward.”
Julia took off to get ready for her date and Pete and I kept the bar stools company a while longer. I had been practicing card tricks lately and I pulled a deck from my pocket and tried out a few on Pete. He picked-a-card-any-card and after a couple of goof-ups I was able to produce the card from my shoe. Pete was unimpressed. Tommy Haircut had come into the bar with pretty Maria and the two of them were sitting off at a table under the neon Guinness sign. I went over to chat with them, then came back to the bar and cajoled Pete into picking another card. He did and I shuffled the deck. I asked Larry for four shots of Jameson’s, and when they arrived I called Tommy and Maria over.
“One, two, three, down the hatch.”
We tossed back our shots, then I reached into Tommy’s pompadour and produced a card. I held it up to Pete.
“Is that your card?”
Pete smirked. “Okay, so you’ve got a hobby.”
As the place began to fill up with the predinner crowd Pete and I migrated to my outdoor office, the rotting pier at the west end of Thames Street. We had a quarter bottle of Maker’s that I had confiscated from behind the bar when Larry wasn’t looking. The sun was dipping below the horizon, pulling a soft blue sky behind it. Pete and I took turns sighting the Domino Sugar sign across the harbor, using the bottle as our telescope. The red neon was brown and murky for a while, but after numerous sightings it began to clear up . . . which is more than I can say for Munger and Sewell.
We talked mainly about girls. Despite his earlier balking, Pete talked mainly about Susan. He gave me his theory that marriage is like a brick wall that both partners must beat their heads against equally if it is going to succeed. I had to admit that I didn’t find it to be a terribly hopeful theory, but when I said this to Pete he pooh-poohed me.
“I’ve been married for twenty-six years. It’s no easy sprint to the finish, believe me. You’ve just got to grapple your way forward somehow.”
“So marriage is about grappling and about beating your head against the wall,” I said. “You’re very inspiring, Pete.”
Eventually I rolled our conversation back around to Sophie. When I brought up Mike’s wedding ring for the second time Pete dropped a paw on my arm.
“Do you know what your problem
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