Naja Aidt - Rock, Paper, Scissors

“Stop pouting like a little boy who needs consolation, okay? If you have issues to work through, see a shrink or something. Did you reserve a table at the restaurant?”

Thomas nods again. “Yes,” he says. “Yeah, you’re right.” He collects himself, straightens up, walks out of the office, and guides Alice on a proper tour of the store. He shows her how to work the register, where to find the bags, how to do various procedures. At a quarter past 6:00 they close shop. All five of them stroll to the restaurant, a twenty minute walk. It’s a beautiful night and mild, the temperature almost like that of skin — like being in a soft and compliant world, the body merging with it; there’s no limit, the light is speckled green, soft, odors hang unmoving in the air: trash, car fumes, the acrid stench of fast food deep-fryers and, every now and then, rose bush, honeysuckle. People sit on their stoops enjoying the first really warm summer evening; the city’s alive, teeming with life. Alice’s legs in a pair of cut-off jeans are bare, she’s walking beside Peter and talking with him, she seems so natural and comfortable, energized. And Thomas is seized with pride. Then he thinks of Patricia again. She hasn’t called him all day. His fears return. But just as they’ve sat in the soft restaurant chairs, she texts him: “Still at work. Going home in a few hours.” What a relief. They order cocktails and appetizers. Peter’s gray eyes gleam once he’s drained his first gin and tonic. Alice describes the poetry reciting competition at Kristin and Helena’s. Annie has never heard of anything that strange. “What poems did you read?” she asks. Alice can’t remember, but then she recalls Haiku-Helena and begins to laugh, so Thomas explains it to Annie and now she laughs, too. “I’ve never cared much for haiku,” she says. “But have you read Bella Akhmadúlina?”

“Bella Akh. .?”

“Akhmadúlina. A poet. She’s wonderful.”

“Annie’s in a Russian phase,” Thomas explains, passing the tuna tartare around the table.

“If you want, you can borrow one of her books from me.”

Alice nods, surprised. She would like that very much. “Peter’s also part of my reading group now,” Annie says. “Isn’t that right, Peter?”

“Yup,” Peter says, carefully setting his knife and fork down.

“Jesus,” Maloney says, shoveling grilled squid onto his plate. “Since when have all our employees become so literary?”

“I think we’ve always been literary,” Peter says quietly.

The main courses arrive. Maloney’s ordered a steak with Béarnaise sauce to accompany “the good red wine,” as he calls it. Annie’s ordered lobster and Alice tries a bite; she’s never had lobster before, and she likes it. She dives into her breaded chicken breast. They quickly work through several bottles of wine. Peter becomes chattier and chattier. He gesticulates with his hands as he describes how horrible he was at ballgames in school. “But I really got into gymnastics,” he says, “and I’m still very good at it.”

“Gymnastics!” Maloney shouts. “You do gymnastics? I can’t fucking picture you doing that.”

But Peter has won several semi-professional competitions during the past few years. Alice thinks being that good at something is totally cool, and wishes she was. And Thomas thinks it couldn’t get any better than this. Here she sits eating lobster and drinking white wine, getting offers to read poetry, maybe even the chance to attend a gymnastics meet or a book club discussion. She’s clearly enjoying herself. She’ll say yes to working for us, he thinks, maybe they could even let Annie run the new store; surely they can manage the original store with just Peter. That’s not a bad idea. It could be the women’s store , and he can shuttle back and forth between the two. Once again he’s jolted by a sense of pride and elation. They’re all a little buzzed and chirpy. It’s almost 9:30 P.M. Annie, Peter, and Alice talk about wild animals. A few years ago Peter saw a white tiger in a zoo. “Are they albinos?” Annie wants to know. Peter explains how they’re recessive mutants of the Bengal tiger — which is to say, a subspecies. “Do you have a girlfriend, Peter?” Maloney asks out of nowhere. Peter blushes. “That’s Peter’s own business,” Thomas says. But Maloney keeps at it. “What about you, Annie? You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she says in a clear voice. “I do. I just moved in with him.”

“Congratulations,” Maloney says.

“Maloney’s dating my mom. Isn’t that crazy?” Alice returns her napkin to her lap as the dessert is brought in. “So he’s, like, your stepfather?” Peter interjects, confused. “I’m over eighteen. I don’t need a father anymore,” Alice says. When she puts a spoonful of moist, coal-black chocolate cake into her mouth, she closes her eyes in rapt pleasure. Thomas tells them all about the new store. Annie seems very interested. She asks a bunch of questions: When will it open? Where is it located? Will it carry the same products? Thomas offers to take them all on a tour once the sale is final. Maloney says nothing. He stares absently at Thomas. “Have you actually considered moving in with my mother?” Alice asks him. “What?” Maloney says. “I don’t really know. Maybe. At some point.” “You’ve always lived alone. Would you be able to stand it?” Thomas says. With his spoon, he pokes at his crème brûlée. “Would you be able to stand living with Jenny?” Maloney smiles sheepishly. He’s in love, Thomas thinks, he’s really in love with her. Thomas’s cell phone rings at that moment. At first he can’t hear anyone on the line. Then he hears strange noises. A clattering or struggle. Is that the sound of clothing? Or did someone butt dial me? And now, a kind of whimpering — or is someone singing or mumbling in the background? The sounds in the restaurant are so loud that he can’t really separate them from what he hears on his cell. He steps onto the street. “Hello?” he says. “Hello? Who is it?” No one answers. But now it sounds as though the telephone on the other end slams against something hard. The call is dropped. He stares at his cell. When he sees Patricia’s number on the little screen, he grows cold with fear.

He calls her several times but doesn’t get through. He stumbles into the restaurant and pulls Maloney into the coatroom. “What’s wrong?” Maloney breathes, glowering at Thomas, irritated. “Say something, man!”

“She called. There were only noises.”

“Who?”

“Patricia. Only noises. .”

“What kind of noises?”

“It sounded as if her cell phone was thrown, I can’t get ahold of her.” Thomas clutches Maloney’s shirt with both of his hands.

“What are you trying to tell me, Thomas? What kind of noises? Did it sound like she was with someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“A man. Was she with another man?”

Thomas hadn’t even thought of that. He stares at Maloney, his eyes wide. “Yes,” he says, “maybe. But. . Oh, no. What should I do? I thought. .”

“What did you think?”

“I don’t know. That she was in danger.”

With his head cocked to one side Maloney smiles. He drops his hand onto Thomas’s shoulder.

“Go home. Then she’ll have to explain. That’s all there is to it.” He squeezes Thomas’s shoulder. A kind of rough caress. “This kind of thing happens even in the best of families.” He follows Thomas out to the street. “Take a cab,” he says, “leave your bike here.” Thomas continues fumbling with his bike keys. “Leave the bike here!” Maloney raises his voice. Thomas turns and looks at him in despair. “Get out of here,” Maloney says sharply. “I’ll think of something to tell the others.”