MATTHEW BUYS a bottle of champagne, in the hope that after dinner he’ll be able to get Liz to come home with him to drink it. He puts it into the refrigerator and takes two glasses from the cabinet and puts them on a table in his living room. Then he decides that the effect seems too calculated, shows his eagerness too much. He puts the glasses away.
But maybe the champagne itself is too much, he thinks.
No, BW tells him. It shouldn’t be. You’d keep champagne on hand for other women, wouldn’t you? She’ll think you use it for seductions.
Would she think that? Matthew wonders. No — she’d see through it.
You’re right, BW admits. She would. She’d see everything if you have champagne. She would know that you’ve wanted her back all this time, that you’re trying to celebrate her return. You mustn’t give so much away. You must be cool. You must not seem to have thought too much about this evening. No champagne. Definitely no champagne.
Yes. That’s it. I mustn’t seem to have anything at stake.
That’s right. Even though you really think that all your future happiness is at stake. If you knew that there was something — anything — you could do to make Liz come back, if you knew what that something was, you would do it.
No, it isn’t that. That wouldn’t be enough, making her come back. If I knew that there was something I could do to make her love me, that’s what I would do.
Yes, of course. That’s it.
But, maybe I’ve done it. Maybe I’ve already done the thing that’s needed. I’ve changed. I’m not the man I was. I’m different. I’m not even aware of all the ways I’ve changed.
Or how few they really are, says BW. How insignificant. How unremarkable.
Matthew makes himself a martini, sips it, thinks, and lectures himself. What made Liz come to my bed? What made her make love to me so eagerly? So well? Did she know that I tried to make love to Belinda, right there in front of her? Was she awake? Not likely. It was the idea that I was different. Novelty. It must have been that. Her thinking that I had changed, that I wasn’t the same old Matthew, the one she wasn’t able to love. It was all of it, all the differences — the apartment, and Belinda, the idea of Belinda, the idea that I’ve had other experiences, other women. All right. That’s what I have to work on. I have to be different from what she remembers. And I mustn’t seem to have anticipated this evening too eagerly. I mustn’t give myself away. Why not get there late? Take my time getting ready.
[to be continued]
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