Scott Spencer - A Ship Made of Paper

But he’s not convinced.It seems entirely likely to him that ifhe tells Kate he is still actively in love with Iris, and he sees her whenever possi-ble, then Kate will not only suffer but she will retaliate.

He wishes that Iris would tell Hampton herself. Soon, she has said. I

can’t, she has also said.She fears him, fears the pain it will cause her, and is exhausted to contemplate the mess that will ensue.She worries about losing custody ofNelson—though surely Hampton could not delude himself into believing he was set up or temperamentally suitable to take care ofthe boy.

Ifit were up to Daniel, Hampton would already know.Then he would simply stay in NewYork, and those unbearable conjugal visits could cease.But Iris is more than reluctant to tell him, she seems terrified of the possibility, which makes him wonder ifshe fears Hampton will do some violence to her, that he will pummel her, that beneath that golden-brown exterior ofaffluence and elegance, family roots, princely entitle-ments, and fraternity-boy competitiveness lurks the narcissistic, sexually preening, and ultimately predatory black man who prowls, sulks, and rages through Kate’s articles on O.J.

“Well, are you or not?”Kate asks, her voice a little wobblier this time, like a tightrope walker working without a net who’s made the mistake of looking down.

Ifhe tells her the truth, he will pay for it.She will try to put a wedge between him and Ruby.She will make his life hell.

“I’ve already answered this question,”he says.

”Answer it again,”says Kate.

He shakes his head no, thinking that in some malignantly petty way this silent No can be taken to mean that he isn’t seeing Iris anymore, or it could also mean that he doesn’t want to“answer it again.”He knows he is losing his honor with these infantile games with the truth, but, then, ifhe’s willing to lose his family why not jettison honor, as well?

“What do you think about that?”Dr.Fox asks Kate.

”About what? He hasn’t answered me.He shook his head, that could mean anything.”

“I’m not seeing her,”Daniel blurts out.“I’m not seeing Iris.Okay?”

Telling this lie isn’t as sickening as he’d anticipated, he was so close to it anyhow, it wasn’t difficult, he just let himself drift into it.

“What do you think about what Daniel has said?”Fox asks again.

Kate shakes her head.“I don’t know.I’d like to believe him.”

“You don’t believe me?”asks Daniel, as ifincredulous.

”No.I don’t.”

“Then have me followed.Hire a private detective.”

“I have.”

Daniel’s first thought is ofthis morning, after he and Iris left the supermarket and drove north back toward Leyden—wasn’t there a car fol-

lowing close behind, a nondescript sedan, just the sort to be driven by some professional snoop?A mile into the drive they pulled intoWindsor Motors;Iris wanted to check out the newVolvos, and Daniel would have gone anywhere for a few extra minutes with her.Had the sedan followed them in?They walked around the lot, a light snow fell for a few moments and then stopped.A salesman descended upon them.Iris pointed to a car she liked and the next thing they knew the salesman had slapped a pair ofdealer plates on it and he was waving so long to them as Iris steered the new car out ofthe lot for a test drive, with Daniel in the passenger seat.Her eyes were brimming with tears. What’s wrong, he asked her.She shook her head, pulled out into traffic, started driving a little too fast.

He saw a tear roll down her cheek, he stopped it with his fingertip—re-membering Kate once saying that human tears were filled with bodily waste, more toxic than piss—and then licked his finger clean. You’re cry-ing, he whispered. He just gave us the car, Iris said. He didn’t ask for identi-fication, a credit card, nothing .“ Here’s the keys, see you in a while, drive safely .”

She sniffed back what remained ofher first response to this novel situa-tion, and then looked at Daniel with something utterly wild, something practically feral in her expression, as ifshe had just entered a realm in which more was permissible than she had ever dreamed.

“Look at his face,”Kate says to Dr.Fox.“You must be somewhat ofan expert on the faces men make when they are totally fucking busted.”

Fox’s clock is digital so there isn’t even a ticking, all that can be heard is the long shhhhh ofthe white-noise machine, like the sound ofan enor-mous punctured balloon.And then, from another ofthe center’s offices, the sound ofa muffled male voice crying out,“Not at meal time, that’s all I’m asking.Not at meal time!”

“What’s that?”Kate asks.

”Somebody else’s misery,”Daniel answers.

”Not that.That.”

“It’s the white-noise machine,”Fox says.

”Ah,”says Kate, smiling.“Then shouldn’t it be whining?”She starts tolaugh.

“I can’t believe you hired someone to follow me around,”says Daniel.

”Well, I didn’t.But I’m never going to forget the look on your face when you thought I had.”

“All right,”says Fox.“I’d like to try something here, ifthat’s okay with you two.”

“He still hasn’t answered my question about whether he’s seeing her or not.”

“What I’d like to try…,”saysFox.

”Just a second, Dr.Fox.Please?There’s no point going forward with this little session, ifDaniel’s not willing to answer my question.”

“He did answer your question,”Fox says, his voice rising with alarm, which Daniel notes with relieffor himself and a feeling ofsome pity for Kate—poor Kate, fifteen minutes into therapy and she’s alienating thedoctor.

“Let me tell you something about Daniel, Dr.Fox.He’s not terribly straightforward.He’d rather lie than hurt someone.He’s a negotiator.

No, here’s what he is.”She uncrosses her legs and then recrosses them in the opposite direction.“He’s like an orphan.He’s always covering his ass, making sure he doesn’t get sent back to the home.He doesn’t feel as if he belongs anywhere.He moves back to his hometown—and moves me back with him, by the way.He has no idea why.His parents cut him out oftheir stupid little will? He barely reacts.He wants something big to happen to him, something to tell him who he is, or make him something.

There must be a name for that, he must be a type, or something.He can tell you anything.He may end up saying that he’s black.I wouldn’t be surprised.People like him can never tell the truth, because they don’t know the truth.He’s a sweet guy, and a good man, and despite his be-havior he’s really pretty ethical.But Daniel’s been spinning his own feel-ings for so long they’re a mystery even to him.”

Fox nods, somewhat sagely, but when he strokes his goatee, his fingers are trembling.He clears his throat and murmurs something about

”trust issues,”and something further about that most unfortunate“circle ofsafety.”

Abruptly, Kate reaches over and squeezes Daniel’s knee as hard as she can.She speaks to him through curled lips and clenched teeth.

”Saysomething.”

“Do you love me, Kate?”he asks, his voice soft, almost sleepy.The pressure she exerts on the muscles right above his knee is vaguely painful, but relaxing, too.The physical punishment seems to siphon off some ofthe other, more persistent agonies.

“That’s really not the issue here,”Kate says.“Anyway, ofcourse I do.”

“I’ll take that as a no,”he says.

”You see? I can’t win.”

“All right, then let me ask you this…”

“It’s better to just express your own feelings,”Fox says.“And not askquestions.”