The atmosphere in the room changed after that round ended. At first I was afraid that the others knew about us, that people had heard us at night, that even Melissa knew, but then I realised it was a different quality of tension. Derek and Evelyn seemed instead to feel awkward on Nick’s behalf, like they thought he had been trying to conceal his feelings from me; and toward me they expressed a kind of unspoken concern, maybe that I would be offended or upset. Evelyn kept glancing at me with a sympathetic expression. After Melissa correctly guessed the name Bill Clinton, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, which was across the hall. I ran cold water over my hands and dabbed it under my eyes, then dried my face with a clean towel.
Outside in the hallway, Melissa was waiting to use the bathroom. Before I could step past her she said: are you all right?
I’m fine, I said. Why?
She drew her lips together. She was wearing a blue dress that day, with a low scooped neckline and a pleated skirt. I had a pair of rolled-up jeans and a crinkled white shirt on.
He hasn’t done anything, has he? she said. I mean, he’s not bothering you.
I realised she was talking about Nick, and I felt faint.
Who? I said.
She gave me an unwelcome look then, a look that suggested she was disappointed in me.
It’s okay, she said. Forget about it.
I felt guilty, knowing that she was making an effort to care for me, an effort that was probably painful to her. Quietly I said: no, look, of course he hasn’t. I don’t know … I think it’s nothing. I’m sorry. I think it’s just Bobbi.
Well, it’s a crush or something, she said. I’m sure it’s probably harmless, I just want you to know you can tell me if anything happens to make you uncomfortable.
I appreciate that, it’s very kind of you. But really, it doesn’t … it doesn’t bother me.
She smiled at me then, like she was relieved that I was all right, and that her husband had not been doing something untoward. I smiled back gratefully and she wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress.
It’s not like him, she said. But I guess you’re his type.
I looked down at our feet, I felt dizzy.
Or am I flattering myself? she said.
I met her eye then, and I realised she was trying to make me laugh. I did laugh, out of gratitude for her kindness and her apparent trust.
I think I’m the one who should be flattered, I said.
Not by him, he’s completely useless. Great taste in women, though.
She pointed at the bathroom. I moved out of the way and she went inside. I wiped my face with my wrist and felt it was damp. I wondered what she had meant by calling Nick ‘useless’。 I couldn’t tell whether she was being affectionate or vitriolic; she had a way of making them seem like the same thing.
We didn’t play for very much longer after that. I didn’t talk to Bobbi at all before she went to bed. I sat on the sofa until everyone else had gone too, and after a few minutes Nick came back. He closed the shutters and then leaned against the windowsill. I yawned and touched my hair. He said hey, that was weird, wasn’t it? With Bobbi. I agreed it was weird. Nick seemed cautious on the subject of Bobbi, as if he wasn’t sure how I felt about her.
Have you given up drinking? I said.
It just makes me tired. And I prefer being sober for all this anyway.
He sat on the arm of the sofa, as if he expected we would be getting up again shortly. I said: what do you mean all this? And he said, oh, all this stimulating late-night conversation we have.
You don’t like having sex when you’re drunk? I said.
I think it’s probably better for everyone if I’m not.
What, it’s like a performance issue? I don’t have any complaints.
No, you’re very easy to please, he said.
I didn’t like him saying that, though it was true and he probably did think so. He touched the inside of my wrist with his hand and I felt myself shudder.
Not really, I said. I just know you like it when I lie there telling you how great you are.
He grimaced and said: that’s harsh. I laughed and said, oh no, am I ruining the fantasy for you? I’ll go back to sighing over how strong and masculine you are if you prefer. He didn’t say anything then.
I should go to bed anyway, I said. I’m exhausted.
He touched his hand against my back, which felt like an uncharacteristically tender gesture. I didn’t move at all.
Why haven’t you had any affairs before? I said.
Oh. I guess because I didn’t really meet anyone.
What does that mean?
For a second I really thought he would say: I never met anyone I desired, the way I desire you. Instead he said: yeah, I don’t know. We were pretty happy together for a long time, so I never really thought about it then. You know, you’re in love, you don’t really think about these things.