Blunt Darts

said, her smile growing broader, “take it off. I have a T-shirt that I use as a nightie that ought to fit you.”
    “No, thanks. Really,” I said uncertainly. “I’m all right.”
    She planted her fists on her hips and looked resigned. “Well, if I can’t make you comfortable, at least I can get you a drink. What will you have?”
    “Orange juice,” I said, and cleared my throat. “And a little vodka, if you’ve got it.”
    “I’ll just be a minute,” and she trotted off—to the kitchen for the drinks, not to the bedroom to change.
    Well, John-boy, what now? Beth now. Beth and my decision. The question was how to put the decision into words. Or actions. And when. Something was beginning to make me perspire again. Maybe the flannel shirt.
    She returned with the drinks. From across the room, mine appeared awfully pale. Unless she reconstituted her frozen o.j. with a lot of water, she’d mixed me a whale of a screwdriver. She handed it to me. As she sat down, her robe did another calisthenic. I was positive she had known that it would.
    “To lasting friendship,” she said, with a nice try at a naughty wink.
    I took a sip. Almost pure vodka. “You should hold the orange peel in a little longer next time.”
    She rolled the ice around in her glass and looked me up and down. “You know, John, you have a great sense of humor, but you shouldn’t let it affect your taste in clothes.”
    We both laughed. “Actually, I’m on my way to find Stephen.”
    Valerie jumped forward and nearly spilled her drink as she set it on the coffee table. Her robe bowed out again and stayed that way. I kept looking into her eyes. “Oh, John, you know where he is! Where?”
    “I told Mrs. Kinnington I wouldn’t tell her, and I’ll not tell you for the same reasons. First, I’m not sure I do know where he is, and second, given Blakey’s general temperament, I don’t want anyone he could approach to know as much as I do.”
    Valerie shot me a disbelieving look. “Oh, come on, John. Blakey wouldn’t dare try to intimidate me or Mrs. Kinnington.”
    “I don’t mean to frighten you, but I’m not sure he wouldn’t, if the stakes he’s playing for are as high as I think they are.”
    She slid her hand onto mine. The hand was cold from her drink and warm from her at the same time. “I’m not frightened,” she said.
    I leaned away from her and against the backrest of the couch. My hand followed quite casually and naturally, and I interlocked my fingers in my lap.
    Val turned sideways to me and brought her legs up into a figure-four on the couch. She spoke in a whisper.
    “From the way you’re dressed and the things you’ve said, you expect to beat the bushes for Stephen somewhere. It’ll be dark in another few hours. Do you really think that you’ll find him at night?”
    I cleared my throat again. “No, you’re probably right.”
    She closed her hand over mine again. “I’ve got the chicken defrosted and some Sylvaner in the ‘fridge. I can’t promise you L’Espalier, but I can promise it will be nice.” Another hard squeeze.
    Now was the time. Instead, I lied. “That sounds good.”
    She leaned over, kissed me lightly on the cheek, and nestled her head into my shoulder. She also began stroking the back of my hand with the tips of her fingernails. She had long, pianist’s fingers, and I noticed for the first time how long her nails were. I wondered how she could keep her nails so long, since she probably participated in vigorous school activities like recess. Then I remembered that school had been out for a while. Then I began to realize that I was thinking about her hands to avoid thinking about the lump in my throat. Now it was really time.
    “Valerie...”
    She arched her head back and up, her eyes halfopen, her lips slightly parted.
    “Val, it’s just no good.” I sat forward, and she drew back, her face an open cut.
    “What... what do you... ?”
    “Look,” I said, more testily than I had a right to, “it’s just not right between us. It just isn’t there.”
    She began to look more mad than hurt. “What? What isn’t there?” she demanded.
    I began gesturing with my hand, making my points and waving her off at the same time. “A feeling isn’t there. You’re a nice person. A good human being. And being with you here so far has made me feel more warm than I have for months, since even before Beth died, because the last week or so she wasn’t warm, she was just getting slowly