Nobody's Fool

companionship, with the memory of shared intimacy, the assurance of continued friendship. He knew better than to suggest this to Ruth, though. She was twelve years younger than he, and their lovemaking, however infrequent, was more important to her than to him. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind slipping a few punches this round.”
    He was trying to find a way to bring up the subject of Jane and her visit, which Ruth might or might not know about, when they heard a throaty rumble outside. Ruth stood quickly to peer out the window. “Well, I’m glad you’re in a peaceful mood because Guess Who just pulled up. It’s a good thing he’s too cheap to fix that muffler.”
    â€œGo. I can handle Zack,” Sully said without much confidence, but Ruth had already disappeared into the kitchen. A second later, when the front door to the restaurant swung open, Sully didn’t turn around.
    It took Ruth’s husband, Zack, a minute to realize who it was sitting down there in the closed section of the restaurant and another minute to decide what to do about it. What he’d come in for was to borrow some money from Ruth, since Wednesday was the night Vince paid her. Any public altercation with Sully would compromise this modest plan, and so Zack gave deep and careful consideration to just turning around and slipping outside again and waiting for Ruth to come out, which she’d have to do eventually. And he might have adopted this strategy if he could have been sure that nobody would see him slinking away. Zack was frequently accused of cowardice. People kept telling him they couldn’t understand why Zack didn’t just shoot Sully or at least club him a good one with a baseball bat. He disliked being called a coward, so he took a deep breath and attempted to summon an indignation he didn’t really feel at Sully’s presence.
    â€œWhat do you know?” Zack said when he arrived at Sully’s booth, Sully still seated, his back to Zack. “Look who’s here. Sully, of all people.”
    â€œZachary,” Sully said, motioning to the empty bench opposite.
    Zack considered this genial offer. Except for the rumors that persisted about his wife and Sully, Zack didn’t object to Sully personally. He had no hard evidence that Sully and Ruth were lovers (he himself did not love Ruthand couldn’t sec why anyone would), and this lack of evidence prevented him from building up a good head of righteous steam. Every time he tried, usually at someone else’s instigation, he ended up being made a fool. Sully had a way of besting him at prefight verbal sparring, and when Sully landed a good one, Zack took the mandatory eight count, trying to think of a retort. Sometimes, failing to think of one, he just threw in the towel right there.
    The last time, this summer, had been the worst, and the confrontation was still fresh in Zack’s mind. He and his cousin Paulie had gone to find Sully at The Horse. Somebody had called to say he was there with Ruth, but when they arrived it was just Sully seated at the bar. At Paulie’s insistence they’d slid onto the two vacant stools next to him. “See this guy here?” Zack had announced in a stage whisper to his cousin. “He thinks he’s a real ladies’ man.”
    Sully’d swiveled on his stool then and examined Zack so patiently and with so little concern that Zack’s confidence first eroded, then crumbled. “I am, too, compared to some people,” Sully finally said, a remark that struck Zack as neither confirmation nor denial and therefore impossible to act upon.
    â€œA real ladies’ man,” Zack had repeated lamely. Then he decided on a veiled accusation. “Some people says he likes my wife, but Sully says no.”
    Sully, who had swung back around on his stool, rotated again. He ran his fingers through the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “I never said I didn’t like your wife, Zack,” he said. “I think she’s terrific, in fact. I probably like her better than you do.”
    And Sully’d paused there, apparently confident that it would be a while before Zack would be able to take this in, analyze the data, arrive at a conclusion. Zack too was aware that he was slow, which was why he sometimes practiced verbal sparring with Sully when he was alone, trying to anticipate how the conversation might go, preparing a snappy