Charles Baxter - There's Something I Want You to Do

She stopped playing. “What? You can read music?” He nodded. She started up again, unhappily scowling. The piece was showy and fantastically difficult, and from her approximations he could tell that she was a very good but not a first-rate pianist who was just slopping her way through it, energized by the former musical ambitions she wished to put on display. Also, he saw that she wanted to show off. She made some clumsy mistakes but bushwhacked to the end, Benny standing beside her, turning the pages.

When she finished, he put down his beer and clapped. “Jeez,” he said. “That was great. You’re terrific.”

“You liked it?” she asked shyly. She wouldn’t smile. She waited, looking straight ahead at the last page of the score.

“I loved it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not flattering me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. White lies didn’t cost you much in the short term.

“I made a lot of mistakes. When did you ever play the piano?” she asked.

“Junior high. High school. College. I was all right. I was in a few bands. But I couldn’t play like that.”

“Benny,” she said. His hand rested on her shoulder. He didn’t quite know how it had gotten there. “Benny,” she repeated. “ Benjamin. Here’s the deal. I know you want me, and I know you’ve been patient with me, and I want you to know that I have feelings for you, too.”

“It’s more than that,” he said. “I—”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted. “You can tell me later if you want to. But first I have to tell you something. You would like to make love to me, I know, and I would like that too. It would be good to have you in my bed, and not just as an occasional visitor. But there are two conditions.”

—

Whenever he told this story, as he did to Elijah one night several weeks later, Benny would stop here. Some stories, he felt, you should never repeat. If you do tell them, a trust is violated. But this story had become so bacterial that he had to pass its contagion on to others who might help him bear it. He’d become incapable of carrying it around alone. Besides, Elijah was a doctor.

“So?” Elijah asked. “What were the conditions she gave you?” Benny squirmed. “Come on, Benny, out with it. I’ve heard everything by now. Confess.”

“Well, they weren’t that big,” Benny said.

“Out with it.”

“I couldn’t kiss her,” Benny admitted. “That was the first condition. We could make love, but I couldn’t ever kiss her on the lips. Anywhere else, fine. On the lips, no. She said she was phobic about it. She couldn’t help it, she said.”

“And did you agree to this?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, but I gave her a condition of my own.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because women shouldn’t be the only ones to set the conditions. Men should be able to set conditions, too. You can’t just cave in on everything if you’re negotiating. I agree with feminism but I need a place to stand. Anyway, I told her I wanted her to color her hair. I told her that I wanted her hair to be red. I was forceful on the subject.”

“You did? That’s messed up. What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Sure.’ ”

“Did she ask you why? Did you show her that red hair of yours from the sidewalk? I certainly hope not. Please tell me you didn’t do that. What was the other condition?”

“She wanted me to design a house she could be happy in. Just a sketch would do. I told her I would try.”

“A house? So you were agreeable to all this? What happened then?”

“We made love, sort of. Until then I had never made love without starting with the kisses. I mean, a person can do it. You can have sex without kissing on the lips. Ever seen porn?” Elijah gravely nodded. “They don’t kiss much in porn, do they? Well, this was like that.”

“Yeah, but how did it feel?”

“I don’t know. Beautiful. Lonely. Sweet. Distant. Remote. It was what I wanted in a way I didn’t want it. God, I can’t say. Like she was guarding her soul or something.”

“I really hate to tell you this, Benny, but I think the, uh, really obvious thing is that she doesn’t love you. She’d like to, she really would, and she’s been working at it, but she can’t. The nonkissing is the big clue. If I were you, I’d get out now. Finita la commedia is my advice. Oh, and did she color her hair?”

“Yeah,” Benny said. “It’s beautiful. Listen: I think she might love me someday, only she can’t say so. And there’s this one other thing.”

“Another thing. I can’t stand it. Which is?”

“She’s gotten herself a stand-up gig. Did I mention this already? She’s going to be at the Longfellow Comedy Club a few weeks from now. Two nights, Friday and Saturday. I’ve never heard her do stand-up. She says she’s done it for years but not lately. She’s been working on it.”

“You better watch out. She’s going to get up onstage and tell everybody you have a small dick, and they’ll all laugh.”

“No, she won’t. First of all, I don’t have that, and second of all, she wouldn’t.”

“Wait and see.”

“Maybe you should come out and witness it. Would you do that?”

“Depends. I might drop by if I don’t have rounds. Or child care. Or obligations to Susan. Or house repair. I’m a busy fellow.” He sat up. “After all, I am a married man . And I am a physician . I am a citizen. I have multiple responsibi lities.” Elijah’s cell phone rang as if on cue. He checked the screen but did not answer it.

“Then why are you here?” Benny waved his hand to indicate the coffee shop where they both sat. “If you’re so busy, why are you here?”

“Have you slept with her again?” Elijah asked. “Have you two become lovers?” He waited. “I don’t mean to pry.” He smiled at his own hypocrisy.

“Yes,” Benny said. “Yes, we have slept together again. And no, we have not become lovers. Not really.” He bunched up a paper napkin and threw it in the wastebasket. “At least she hasn’t. Because I told her that I was falling in love with her. I got out on a limb.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said, ‘Well, I can’t say the same.’ ”

—

Sometimes when Benny sat on the barren furniture in Sarah’s apartment, he could hear her in the bathroom, the door closed, practicing her comedy routine. She kept her voice down to a rushed murmuring followed by exclamations. She practiced her stage laugh, a prompt to the audience. When she eventually came out to the living room, he volunteered to listen to her monologue, but she always said no, she had to keep it to herself for a while.

He didn’t know her after all, he decided. He lay awake staring at the ceiling while Sarah slept beside him. They had everything except intimacy. Maybe you could get along without that. She seemed to think so. All the same, he believed she loved him somehow. Earlier that day, she had called him up at work and in a breathless voice told him that she had made the greatest discovery — no one had thought of it before, but now she had. “Think of a dog,” she said. “Okay, now suppose you have a really smart dog. Let’s say you have a border collie. Dogs don’t get much smarter than that, do they? I don’t think so. A border collie can do anything a dog can do. They can herd sheep, they can recognize words, they can save children from storm drains during flood season. But suppose you try to explain the planet Mars to a border collie. The dog is smart, all right, but nothing in the dog brain can accommodate the idea of Mars, can it? No. The dog can never ever understand that there’s a planet beyond ours called Mars. Mars will never register in its cranium. A dog can’t think a single thought about Mars.” She waited for this aperçu to sink in. “It’s not the dog’s fault. Okay, so now suppose that we have limitations on our brains, like the limitation on a dog brain. And you know what we can’t get, ever?”