Half Moon Bay by Alice LaPlante

Author:Alice LaPlante
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner

PART III

LOVE

Then it is as if their brief separation has never been. Edward starts coming to Jane every night. Jane has never experienced anything like this. How physical it all is! She is still carrying her grief; she still has the heaviness and the chest pains, but along with that is a tingling in her limbs and desire in her loins. She has forgotten . . . no, that is not true. She has never felt this way, not for Rick, not for any of her previous romantic attachments. They seemed trivial, inane compared to this.

Sometimes knowing Edward exists in the world is enough. Then sometimes she has to see him. She walks past his office in the morning, finds excuses to walk down Main Street at lunchtime and after work. She has to see his face, overshadowed by a lock of hair that has fallen in his eyes, his lean body bent over a desk, his fingers touching the keyboard. She has to be sure of the physicality of him.

She never knows when he will come. Each night an excitement too much to be borne. Will he come? Even when he doesn’t, she isn’t disappointed. He exists. He desires her. He will come again.

And when he did come! She holds him and strokes him all over—his arms, his legs, his belly—reveling in the wonder that is him. The world recedes. Nothing exists but the two of them in the soft bed. Even the pillows and sheets and blankets are discarded, not necessary. What is necessary? His hands. His mouth. The length of his body, pressed to hers, arm to arm, thigh to thigh, face-to-face. No space separates them.

What of Alma, then? What role does she play in this? Jane doesn’t care at first. Alma is incidental. Collateral damage. Then she bumps into Alma on the street, right after one of her pilgrimages to Edward’s office. For they were pilgrimages, daily journeys to a sacred object.

Jane! I haven’t seen much of you lately.

I’ve been busy. Jane is trying to control her face, trying not to smile so much. She is certain everyone can see into her and see that she has come to life again.

Oh, it’s my fault as much as yours. It’s midterms, and the students are demanding attention.

Jane smiles. She can’t think of anything to say.

Why don’t you come to dinner this weekend? I’m sure Edward would be delighted.

Even at the sound of his name being spoken aloud, a thrill runs through Jane.

Yes, of course, she says. Alma is as gracious and charming as ever, but did Jane detect something else? Something more intimate? More knowing? If possible, more affectionate? Jane doesn’t care, not one bit.

* * *

Edward doesn’t come to Jane on Thursday. He doesn’t come on Friday. Then, on Saturday, Jane rides over to their house. Deliberately a little late. Trying not to show how desperate she is.

Edward opens the door. He looks pleasant, although not necessarily pleased to see her. Or not as pleased as she’d expected.

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