The staked Goat

frowned.
    ”What’s the matter, John?”
    I took a long swallow from my drink and set it down. ”Carol, I’m kind of a jerk. My wife died and, well, whenever I’m with someone who, well—I—I tend to...”
    She was looking at me a little strangely. ”You tend to what?”
    I sighed. ”I tend to fend her off because I’m still not ready. I start to use some story or whatever to deflect—”
    She put her index and middle finger on my lips, but made no move to kiss.
    ”You’re a nice man, John. And while I took the... uh, the hugging and crying to be more than...” She put her hand back to her lap. ”Look, I got divorced, you know, almost four years ago. For eight years I’d been straight as an arrow with Charley... that was my husband’s name. He was a halfback in high school who slid into a slob working at Big Dorothy. That’s a steel furnace over to Duquesne. I didn’t work. He wouldn’t let me. Pride, you know. Well, steel went bad, and he had no seniority, and he got laid off. I mean, no-hope time. So I went to work as a cocktail waitress, in one of those places where the tips are big because the costumes are small? And I was still straight with Charley. I had plenty of offers, even some that I would have liked but I stayed straight and—”
    ”Carol, I didn’t mean—”
    ”Now be quiet and let me finish. You didn’t know what you wanted to say and I know what I want to say, O.K.?”
    ”O.K.,” I said.
    ”O.K. Anyways, I had the offers, and I turned them down. For Kenny’s sake as much as Charley’s or mine. Well, one day I was sick as a dog, I went to work anyways and, well, Charley because of the pride and the lay-off and all, wasn’t functioning too good. At least, that’s what I thought. So I leave work sick and come home early, and the bastard, the unbelievable bastard, is in our bed, with some bimbo he’d picked up in his bar, where him and his laid-off buddies went. Can you imagine? I’ll spare you the rest of the scene, but I got a lawyer, and filed for divorce and Charley got nothing, and basically instead of Charley and me sharing the equity in the house, the lawyer and me—he was a customer at the club—the lawyer and me sold the house and ”shared” it. Oh, I was really mad at Charley, and this lawyer was real smooth, tall, distinguished, and it wasn’t until maybe six months later that I realized the lawyer was taking me worse than Charley had. So I broke off with him and got this place and worked three jobs to persuade this banker—who was also a customer at the club, but not a, well, you know, not like the lawyer—so I got the house and worked myself into the ground to pay for it, while Martha or Dale or Ruthie babysat Kenny. The point—” She stopped to take a breath and a slug of screwdriver. She also calmed down a little. ”The point of all this is that after the lawyer, I wanted no part of anybody, maybe for all the wrong reasons, but I didn’t. And it seems to me that what you’re saying is that you don’t want, or aren’t ready to want, but it seems to me, for all the right reasons. So”—she picked up my glass and handed it to me—”here’s to friends, O.K.?”
    I could feel the tide rising in my eyes, and saw it reflected in hers. ”Here’s to friends.”
    We clinked and drank.
    ”So tell me,” Carol said, ”you got any relatives, male and unattached and ready, like you in Pittsburgh?”
    We laughed, and the laughter made the few tears seem natural.
    ”Carol, before I leave—”
    She was wiping her eyes but interrupted me. ”Oh, John, you don’t have to, we—”
    ”No, no,” I said, holding up my hand. ”I mean, before I leave for Washington tonight. I have to... I need to tell someone here.”
    ”O.K.”
    ”And I don’t want to upset Martha anymore, and Dale seems a bit shaky right now, and—”
    ”John, just what the hell is it?”
    ”Carol, promise me that you won’t tell anyone anything about what I’m going to say unless I tell you to.”
    She gave me a hard stare and frown. ”But why—”
    ”Please, promise first.”
    She sighed. ”I’m a sucker for promises. But I guess you can tell that already.” She inhaled. ”O.K., I promise.”
    ”Carol, I don’t think Al was killed by some sexual psychopath.”
    ”Oh, but the paper said—”
    ”I know, I know, that’s how even the police have it figured. But I roomed with Al and you’ve known him for years.”
    ”Yes, but John, at the club, you see guys get