Don’t run after this one, Mary. Forget about it. Please. For me?”
“I can’t forget,” she said unhappily. She wished desperately that she could.
* * *
Before leaving town, they stopped at an appliance store, chose and paid for an electric range and microwave oven for Dan Goldman.
Later they got off the freeway at Ventura to have lunch at a restaurant they knew. They ordered salads, manicotti, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon by Robert Mondavi.
From their table they had a view of the ocean. The slate-gray water looked like a mirror reflecting the turbulent sky. The surf was high and fast. A few gulls swooped along the shoreline.
“It’ll be good to get home,” Max said. “We should be in Bel Air before two o’clock.”
“The way you drive, we’ll be there long before.”
“We can go over to Beverly Hills for a few hours of Christmas shopping.”
“Since we’re going to get home in time, I’d rather see my analyst. I’ve got a four-thirty appointment. I’ve been missing too many of them lately. I’ll do my shopping tomorrow. Besides, I haven’t given any thought to Christmas gifts. I don’t have any idea what to get you.”
“I can see your problem,” he said. “I
am
the man who has everything.”
“Oh, are you?”
“Naturally. I have you.”
“That’s corny.”
“But I mean it.”
“You make me blush.”
“That’s never been difficult.”
She put her right hand to her cheek. “I can feel it. I wish I could control it.”
“I’m glad you can’t,” he said. “It’s charming. It’s a sign of your innocence.”
“Me? Innocent?”
“As a baby,” he said.
“Remember me in bed last night?”
“How could I forget?”
“Was that innocence?”
“That was heaven.”
“So there.”
“But you’re still blushing.”
“Oh, drink your wine and shut up.”
“Still blushing,” he said.
“I’m flushed from the wine.”
“Still blushing.”
“Damn you,” she said affectionately.
“
Still
blushing.”
She laughed.
Beyond the window thick curdled clouds continued to roll in from the ocean.
Over the spumoni and coffee Mary asked, “What do you think of adoption?”
He shook his head in mock despair. “We’re too old to find parents now. Who would want kids as big as us?”
“Be serious,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment, then put down his spoon without eating the spumoni on it. “You really mean you and me . . . adopting a child?”
She was encouraged by the wonder in his voice. “We’ve talked about having a family,” she said. “And since I’ll never be able to have a baby of my own . . . ”
“But maybe you will.”
“No, no,” she said. “The doctor made that very clear to me.”
“Doctors have been known to be mistaken.”
“Not this time,” she said, almost too softly to be heard. “There’s too much wrong . . . inside of me. I’ll never have a baby, Max. Never.”
“Adoption . . . ” Max thought about it while he sipped his coffee. Gradually he began to grin. “Yeah. It would be nice. A cute little baby girl.”
“I was thinking about a little boy.”
“Well, sure as hell this is one thing we can’t compromise on.”
“We can,” she said quickly. “We’ll adopt a girl
and
a boy.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Oh, Max, you really do like the idea. I can tell. We could talk to an adoption agency this week. And if—”
“Hold on,” he said, his smile fading. “We’ve been married only four months. We should take our time, get to know each other and ourselves better than we do. Then we’ll be
ready
for children.”
She didn’t hide her disappointment. “How long will that take?”
“It’ll take as long as it takes. Six months . . . a year.”
“Look, I know you. You know me. We love each other and we like each other. We’ve got intelligence, common sense, and loads of money. What else do we need to be good parents?”
“We need
“I can’t forget,” she said unhappily. She wished desperately that she could.
* * *
Before leaving town, they stopped at an appliance store, chose and paid for an electric range and microwave oven for Dan Goldman.
Later they got off the freeway at Ventura to have lunch at a restaurant they knew. They ordered salads, manicotti, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon by Robert Mondavi.
From their table they had a view of the ocean. The slate-gray water looked like a mirror reflecting the turbulent sky. The surf was high and fast. A few gulls swooped along the shoreline.
“It’ll be good to get home,” Max said. “We should be in Bel Air before two o’clock.”
“The way you drive, we’ll be there long before.”
“We can go over to Beverly Hills for a few hours of Christmas shopping.”
“Since we’re going to get home in time, I’d rather see my analyst. I’ve got a four-thirty appointment. I’ve been missing too many of them lately. I’ll do my shopping tomorrow. Besides, I haven’t given any thought to Christmas gifts. I don’t have any idea what to get you.”
“I can see your problem,” he said. “I
am
the man who has everything.”
“Oh, are you?”
“Naturally. I have you.”
“That’s corny.”
“But I mean it.”
“You make me blush.”
“That’s never been difficult.”
She put her right hand to her cheek. “I can feel it. I wish I could control it.”
“I’m glad you can’t,” he said. “It’s charming. It’s a sign of your innocence.”
“Me? Innocent?”
“As a baby,” he said.
“Remember me in bed last night?”
“How could I forget?”
“Was that innocence?”
“That was heaven.”
“So there.”
“But you’re still blushing.”
“Oh, drink your wine and shut up.”
“Still blushing,” he said.
“I’m flushed from the wine.”
“Still blushing.”
“Damn you,” she said affectionately.
“
Still
blushing.”
She laughed.
Beyond the window thick curdled clouds continued to roll in from the ocean.
Over the spumoni and coffee Mary asked, “What do you think of adoption?”
He shook his head in mock despair. “We’re too old to find parents now. Who would want kids as big as us?”
“Be serious,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment, then put down his spoon without eating the spumoni on it. “You really mean you and me . . . adopting a child?”
She was encouraged by the wonder in his voice. “We’ve talked about having a family,” she said. “And since I’ll never be able to have a baby of my own . . . ”
“But maybe you will.”
“No, no,” she said. “The doctor made that very clear to me.”
“Doctors have been known to be mistaken.”
“Not this time,” she said, almost too softly to be heard. “There’s too much wrong . . . inside of me. I’ll never have a baby, Max. Never.”
“Adoption . . . ” Max thought about it while he sipped his coffee. Gradually he began to grin. “Yeah. It would be nice. A cute little baby girl.”
“I was thinking about a little boy.”
“Well, sure as hell this is one thing we can’t compromise on.”
“We can,” she said quickly. “We’ll adopt a girl
and
a boy.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Oh, Max, you really do like the idea. I can tell. We could talk to an adoption agency this week. And if—”
“Hold on,” he said, his smile fading. “We’ve been married only four months. We should take our time, get to know each other and ourselves better than we do. Then we’ll be
ready
for children.”
She didn’t hide her disappointment. “How long will that take?”
“It’ll take as long as it takes. Six months . . . a year.”
“Look, I know you. You know me. We love each other and we like each other. We’ve got intelligence, common sense, and loads of money. What else do we need to be good parents?”
“We need
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