ON THE WAY to Belinda’s — Leila’s, that is — riding in the cab, Matthew hardly knows what to think of what he’s doing.
I’m doing the right thing. The stupid thing, maybe. But I’m protecting myself.
From Belinda and Liz. I know. But think of what you’re giving up. You’ll never get another chance like this. It’s not just this girl, it’s this one last chance. Are you sure Liz or Belinda is worth it?
It’s not just them. I’m protecting myself from — Leila.
How so?
Well, there’s the possibility that she was just playing with me.
Oh, God, let up, will you?
No. The possibility was there, it was always there. I mean, ask yourself, why would she be interested in me? Why would she be interested in a middle-aged man?
Matthew, there might be any number of reasons. She might admire you, for God’s sake. She might be intrigued by your way with words. She might be charmed by your money. You might remind her of her father. A lot of these girls are nuts about their fathers, you know. Or she might merely be curious.
Curious.
Certainly. She might simply wonder what it would be like to be in her mother’s shoes for a night. Taste the dishes her mother would have tasted. Dance the way her mother would dance. Fuck the man her mother’s fucking.
See? There you are. She isn’t interested in me in a normal way, the right way. She’s curious. I’m a curiosity.
Matthew, you are going to drive one of us nuts.
But, you know, there’s also the possibility that none of that is true. There’s the possibility that she has a crush on me.
How sweet.
Yes. How sweet. How very sweet. There is the possibility that, in her eyes, I’m — well — charming. Interesting. A handsome older man. Maybe a little frightening. A forbidden adventure. Fascinating, in a way.
Always a possibility. A possibility that you might have exploited.
Yes. At least a possibility. Maybe only a possibility. But while it was still a possibility, it was at least something. And I guess I want to leave it as a possibility. When she gets home, and she goes up to her room, maybe she’ll cry over what might have been.
You’re a dreamer.
But, you know, I feel wonderful. I feel good. I’m being good to her. Very good to her.
He reaches out for her, puts his arm around her shoulders, pulls her toward him, holds her close to him, and strokes her hair. He speaks into her ear, softly.
“I had to take you home,” he says. He sighs, enjoying the melodrama he’s creating. “I — wanted you. You know what I mean. You’re beautiful, Leila, and — well — I wish that — Maybe I’d better not go into what I wish. You made me wish I were sixteen again. In fact, for a while there, you almost made me feel that I was sixteen again.”
The cab pulls up in front of her house. Matthew helps her out, asks the driver to wait, and walks her to the door. There he kisses her good night. He makes it a first-date kind of kiss.
“Thank you for letting me taste sixteen again,” he says.
Sounds like regurgitation, says BW.
Matthew feels wonderful, just wonderful, buoyant with the possibility that Leila loves him and would have gone to bed with him, ennobled by the feeling that he has done something to be proud of, a truly adult thing.
[to be continued]
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🎧 521: On the way . . .