The Book of Joe

wake you?” she asks, taking in my grimy appearance.
    “No. It’s okay.” I find myself wishing that I’d at least thrown on a T-shirt.
    “I thought maybe you’d come visit me,” she says, looking highly uncomfortable. “Not that I blame you for not coming.”
    “I’m sorry. I just ... didn’t.”
    Lucy waves away my awkwardness. “It’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. That’s why I left so early that morning.”
    “I’m sorry,” I say again. I seem incapable of saying anything else.
    “I just thought you’d have left by now, and when I drove by and saw your car yesterday, I thought I would come by and say a proper good-bye.”
    “I appreciate that. Would you like to come in?”
    Lucy smiles. “No thanks.”
    “I wasn’t trying - I didn’t mean anything by that.”
    “No. I know.” She hands me the book and a silver Cross pen. “Will you sign this for me?”
    “Sure,” I say, taking the proffered book. “It’s been a while since anyone’s asked.” I open up to the inscription page and
    write Dear Lucy: then pause for a few moments to compose my inscription. You were my muse and my fantasy, and now I’m happy to call you my friend. Best wishes, Joseph Goffman.
    She reads the inscription and smiles. “Give me a hug.”
    I hug her, the buttons of her blouse digging into my naked torso. There are no sexual intentions, but I think some people are capable of hugging only a certain way, and there’s still an inadvertent erotic energy to our embrace, her hands on my bare back, her lower belly against my crotch. She pulls her head back and presses her forehead to mine. “I hope I haven’t ruined the fantasy,” she says, and in her eyes I can see this is a genuine concern.
    “No way,” I say. “You validated it beyond my wildest dreams.”
    “That’s sweet of you to say.” She leans forward and gives me a soft kiss on the lips. “Don’t be a stranger, Joe.”
    “I won’t.”
    She straightens up and I see that her eyes are threatening to tear. She smiles again, and I watch her go down the stairs to her car. Only after she’s driven away do I notice Carly parked in her car across the street, observing the whole scene with a singularly perturbed expression. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I wave to her. She waves back but makes no move to get out of the car, and her expression doesn’t change. I am forced to walk down the stairs and across the street in nothing but boxers, shivering in the cool morning air, bouncing awkwardly when my feet encounter any sharp detritus on the street. “I know that didn’t look very good,” I say.
    Carly nods. “Did you fuck her?” Her tone is one of neutral curiosity, as if the answer is of no particular concern to her one way or another.
    “She just showed up now.”
    “I know when she showed up,” Carly says. “Prior to that, did you fuck her?”
    I sigh. “It was before anything happened with you and me.” It’s not that I necessari ly buy into the notion that hon esty is the best policy, but it is sometimes the most viable strategy, particularly when you don’t have the time to come up with a credible alternative.
    Carly’s already nodding before I finish my sentence, the corners of her mouth straining against invisible weights that are pulling them downward. “Listen, Carly,” I say.
    “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she says, her voice exaggeratedly rational. “There’s no commitment between us. I’m happy for you. I mean, you’ve wanted her for, what is it now, twenty years? It’s been well documented.”
    “Just give me a chance here.”
    “Congratulations. You finally bagged her, man.”
    “Can you please stop that?”
    “No problem,” Carly says. She violently yanks the gear shift and, with tires squealing, drives away, leaving me to cross the street gingerly in my bare feet, feeling a nakedness that extends far beyond my missing clothes. I am once again thoroughly amazed at how poor judgment and bad timing constantly manage to coalesce on my behalf, and always just as my life is starting to show some promise.
    The writing is no longer happening, as can be expected, so I go upstairs to shower and get dressed. I am determined to not let things with Carly get derailed over this. The timing might be questionable, but I did not betray her. Chronology is clearly in my favor here, and I’m hoping that once Carly calms down, she can be made to see that. Surprisingly, she takes my