Sunburn by John Lescroart

you’re going out of your way?”
    “I don’t much care. What’s the alternative? Be an out-and-out asshole to her?”
    “But the condescension gets to her.”
    “Well, her attitude gets to me. So what? That’s not the point either, you know. She makes you do things that aren’t you, that make you hate yourself. How good can that be?”
    “But that’s not constant. It’s not even normal. She’s good to me, good for me.”
    I didn’t buy that, but it wasn’t the right time to disagree. “Well, Sean, I just wish it didn’t have to hurt you.”
    “It’s not all bad,” he repeated.
    “I’m convinced.”
    He sat silently. “Another drink?”
    I shook my head no.
    “Should I go away for a while, you think?” he asked.
    “What for?”
    “I don’t know. Sort things out.”
    “I didn’t think things were that bad.”
    “It’s not that things are so horrible. It’s that I feel I’m in over my head, like I’m not controlling anything between us. It’s all her. Sometimes I feel that her goal is to get me to love her, so that she will have all the power. And the hell of it is, Doug, that I’m powerless against her. I don’t want to fall so hard that I won’t have any choices left if she betrays me . . .”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I mean that if I fall as hard as she wants me to, then I wouldn’t be able to live without her, and I mean that literally.”
    “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
    He stopped and thought a minute. “It’s true as hell.” He paused. “But you know, I couldn’t live with her being unfaithful, either. I’d kill either her or myself.”
    “Oh, Jesus, Sean. Don’t say that unless . . .”
    “Unless I mean it? OK. Let’s just say I won’t retract it.” Suddenly he gave a halfhearted little laugh, and looking down, shook his head. “What’s got into me?”
    He got up and poured himself another shot. “I think that . . . that thing with the chicken today really got to me. Maybe I am being made a fool of. She really is so young . . .”
    “Maybe that’s why you should give her more time.”
    “You think I should?”
    He didn’t want the truth, and I didn’t give it to him. “Sure, talk to her. Tell her you feel like you’ve got to prove yourself constantly and it’s getting you down. If she’s understanding, she’ll let up for a while.”
    “I don’t want to lose her.”
    I wanted to ask him why, but instead stood up and yawned. “Bedtime.”
    “OK. See you in the morning.”
    I left him sitting there under the lamp. Upstairs, I stood at the window for a moment and looked outside across the courtyard. The quarter moon had come up, relieving the absolute darkness. As I undressed, a melody seemed to hang in the air, but by the time I had curled my body next to my wife’s in bed, it had vanished.

Six
     
    You are sitting on the wall that borders the beach in Tossa, sipping a beer and enjoying the hot sun overhead, and you can hardly help noticing the two women walking together out from one of the shops and on down to the beach. You know they aren’t European, not so much from their dress as from the way they walk with each other. They don’t link their arms as they talk, but step lightly, independently, oblivious to the crowds shopping and going to the beach. They don’t notice you as they cross the street, even as they pass within a yard of you, sitting as you are by the entrance to the beach through the wall. Yes, even as they get closer, they are a stunning pair, more beautiful than they’d first appeared. There is no haughtiness about them, only the supreme self-confidence shared by attractive women. They talk casually, and you only hear a few words as they pass, but enough to tell you that they are Americans.
    The thinner one is wearing a tangerine-colored shift that goes well with her complexion. She appears to be older than the other one, though not much. Look closer, though, and there are small wrinkles around her eyes.