Gathering String by Mimi Johnson Page B

at her plate. Sam offered her the last pancake. She waved it off, and he took it himself. She said, “I don’t get it.” He raised his eyebrows, chewing silently. “You make her sound so cold, and your tone is so indifferent, like you two are only acquaintances. Like you don't know each other well."
    “No, no, we know each other too well.” He sighed, obviously disliking the trail of the conversation. “We just kind of stumble along. Other things are more important to both of us to either make it better or to end it.” His mouth curled up on one side, as he spoke. “We don’t interest each other much.”
    “Didn’t you ever?” He shrugged again. “Then why … ?”
    “The marriage?” She nodded. “Timing, I suppose. We’d been seeing each other. I liked her ambition. She liked that I didn’t interfere with her work. And we got along …” His voice faded, and Tess could fill in the blank: they had enjoyed each other in bed. “She’d suggested we try living together. About that time, my dad got his bad diagnosis. I knew he wouldn’t last long. Bubbie was getting frail, and I knew she always wanted to see me settled. I figured what the hell. She was everything they always wanted for me: educated, Jewish, beautiful, had her own money.” Tess winced, and he said, “I guess she was my proof that they did alright by me.”
    “So what happened?” He just stared at her, and she pressed, “There had to have been at least some passion once. What happened?”
    Sam rolled his eyes. “We did OK for awhile. But then Dad died. A year later Bubbie went ...” She waited expectantly and he rubbed his eyes, feeling the difference in their ages for the first time. She still thought everything had an explanation. “Look, one day it hit me that whatever the situation, I knew exactly what she’d think, and the words she’d use to tell me. And then too, I suppose she caught on to who I really am.” His mouth was a humorless smile. “I disappoint her. Constantly. And in more ways than just …” He gave a vague shake of his head.
    “And me? Just the new diversion while she’s gone?”
    “Ah Jesus,” he felt a suddenly sick at her words.
    “I’ve heard the rumors. You’ve kept the gossips busy.”
    His frown deepened. “Well, I’m sorry about that. But this, here with you, it’s not like the others.”
    “Come on, Sam. You’re better with words than that old line. I can handle the truth, so just be honest. Don’t pretend …”
    His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. “It is more and you know it. My god, Tess, I woke up sobbing in your arms.” He looked down at her hand, loosening his grip to gently stroke it, and when his glittering green eyes came up, her throat closed. “Every time I touch you, I heal a little bit.” He leaned forward, and his lips brushed the fading bruise under her eye. “If I tell you there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about, isn’t that enough?”
    She pulled away, her voice shaking, “You’re kidding, right? She’ll be back, we’ll be back, all of us in the same city. This can’t go on.”
    “Come on, Tess …”
    She stood up and moved away from the table, putting the kitchen counter between them. “This has been …” she stopped and turned away for a second. He got up, would have gone to her, but she turned back, putting up her hand with a strangled, “No.” She took a ragged breath, and set her jaw. “We are both still all tangled up in what happened in South Dakota. Sam, you are married.” He shook his head, looking as if he was in pain, but she repeated, “You are married. And I’ve thought about how it will be, what it will turn into, when we get back to D.C. I can’t let that happen.”
    The apprehension became a certainty, his eyes going wide. “Oh my God, you’re kicking me.” His voice was soft, his mouth pulled down at the corners.
    Tears ran down her face. “We shouldn’t have let this start.” He would have protested, but she shook