Primarily, he wanted to hear more from Felix about this “international fraternity.” He wanted to assure himself that what he shared with Maggie was not a run-of-the-mill gutter alliance. He had always liked Van Gogh until mass-production techniques put a Van Gogh print into every lower-middle-class living room. He did not wish to believe a love like his was hanging in living rooms across the face of America. He wanted to know that he and Maggie were different. This was his prime reason and his good reason for seeking out Felix.

Unconsciously, he needed a confidant.

He could not discuss with Eve the conflict which was uppermost in his mind, nor could he very well confide in Maggie the doubts and uncertainties which plagued him. Felix had come along with a hint of vast knowledge. He did not know Felix very well. Indeed, the Felix who’d picked him up didn’t seem at all like the Felix he knew even slightly. And he didn’t particularly like either Felix. But he looked for him on the Sunday morning after the party; and perhaps he’d been looking long before he found him.

Felix was in his garage oiling a hand saw. Larry hesitated on the sidewalk a moment, and then walked up the concrete driveway strip.

“Morning,” he said.

Felix looked up. He did not smile. He wore an old Army Eisenhower jacket over a green sweater. His eyes looked very green and very clear.

“Good morning,” he said. He oiled the saw with meticulous care, rubbing the oil in, wiping away the red smear of rust.

“I guess I was pretty loaded last night,” Larry said.

“We all get high sometimes,” Felix answered.

“You didn’t.”

“I don’t need alcoholic stimulation to enjoy myself.”

The men were silent. Felix wiped oil from the saw.

“I wanted to thank you,” Larry said.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You were right about Eve’s being angry. She was.”

Felix gave the saw a last wipe, hung it on the garage wall, and took down a hand scythe. “Amazing the way rust collects,” he said.

“I’d like to talk to you sometime,” Larry said. “About some of the things you said last night.”

“I’ll give you a piece of gratuitous advice,” Felix said, squirting oil onto the scythe blade.

“Yes?”

“Never confide in strangers.”

“Are we strangers?”

“Yes,” Felix said, and he wiped rust from the blade.


It was Lincoln’s birthday, and Larry walked past Felix’s house hoping he’d be home from work. He found Felix washing his car. He walked over to him and said, “No work today?”

“We switch the holidays,” Felix said. “My partner and me. He’s got Washington’s birthday.”

“Washing the car?”

“Just about finished. Looks good for an old shebang, doesn’t it?”

“I thought you might like to take a walk up to the center.”

“What for?”

“Cup of coffee.”

“All right,” Felix said. “Let me check with Betty.”

He went into the house. When he came out, he was pulling his Eisenhower jacket over his sports shirt. “Let’s go,” he said.

They walked silently. The day was mild and blue, warm for February.

“What’s on your mind?” Felix asked.

“A cup of coffee.”

“You walked over here to get me to come for a cup of coffee, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay,” Felix said.

“You said you’d talk to me sometime. When I’m sober. I’m sober now.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“You made the offer,” Larry said.

Felix nodded. “Are you playing around with some dame?”

“Maybe. Are you?”

“Definitely not,” Felix said.

“You are. I know you are.”

“You know nothing,” Felix said. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you’re the only person I can talk to,” Larry said honestly.

“The only person you should talk to is yourself. And your blonde.” Felix paused. “I use that figuratively. She may be a redhead.”

Larry said nothing.

“By your silence, I gather she’s a blonde.”

Larry still said nothing.

“It doesn’t matter what she is,” Felix said airily. “Have we finished talking?”

“What makes you think Eve is suspicious?”

“I only think she’s on the edge of suspicion. Unexplained behavior is always suspicious. Learn the secret. Consistent behavior at home, inconsistent behavior the moment you leave the house.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Never meet on the same street twice,” Felix said. “Don’t call from the same phone booth, don’t go to the same motel, the same restaurant, or the same anything. Be inconsistent. A habit pattern is likely to attract attention, and attention is dangerous.”

“I thought you weren’t—”

“I’m not,” Felix said. “I’m a student of human nature. I keep my eyes open.”

“Sure,” Larry said. “Listen, if we’re going to talk at all, let’s lay our cards on the table, shall we?”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the only way I can talk.”

“Then let’s not talk,” Felix said.


Sitting next to Felix on the train that Wednesday on his way to meet Altar, Larry wasn’t thinking of the bathroom fixtures the writer would select that day. He wasn’t thinking of the necessity for early selection and early ordering in these times of interminable waits for equipment. He was thinking of what Felix had said to him the day before.

“Your own behavior wasn’t exactly consistent,” he said.

“Wasn’t it?” Felix asked, opening the Daily News. “Do you want a part of this paper?”

“No, thanks. At the party, I mean.”

“How was I inconsistent?”

“Your play for Phyllis Porter.”

“How do you know I don’t do that at every party? How do you know I don’t single out one woman, make inexpert sex talk with her, and then go home to lay my wife silly? How do you know Betty isn’t conditioned to all this and considers it harmless?”

“I don’t.”

“Then don’t say my behavior is inconsistent. Your own behavior needs careful watching.”

“I don’t think Eve is suspicious. There’s really no danger.”

“Overconfidence is the biggest danger,” Felix said. “Does your blonde ever call you at home?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s careless. Do you call her when her husband is home?”

“Sometimes.”

“She is married then?”

“Yes, she’s married.”

“You shouldn’t call when he’s home. Do you check the car after she gets out? No lipsticked butts, no earrings, no gloves, no stray blonde hair or blonde bobby pins? Eve’s got black hair, remember.”

“I’m very careful.”

“Because all that’s necessary is a shred of suspicion, and then the game’s up. Then you haven’t got a wife any more, you’ve got the New York branch of the F.B.I.”

“Well, I’ve been very careful,” Larry said. “Besides, she’s careful too.”

“Never mind how careful she is. You can’t trust her.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t trust any woman. The minute they enter an affair, they get emotionally involved. Once they start feeling, they stop thinking.” Felix paused, folded his newspaper, and turned his green eyes full on Larry, searchingly. “I hope you’re not emotionally involved.”

“I—” Larry stopped.

“I hope not,” Felix said. “A woman is a woman and they’re all exactly the same after the first few months. Never forget that. The hardest part of any affair is getting out of it when you’ve had enough.”

“I don’t believe all women are the same,” Larry said.

“Then you don’t know women.”

“I don’t claim to be an expert.”

“They’re all the same. If you’ve had her, somebody before you has had her. No matter what she says, you’re not the first. And if, by a holy miracle you happen to be, you’re certainly not going to be the last. You can bet your eyes on that.”

“I don’t believe she... well, I really don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, in any case.”

“It does matter,” Felix said. “I can see you getting angry just thinking of the possibility. You’re too involved with her. Pull out now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated for a moment, finding it difficult to say the words to Felix. Then he said, “Because I love her.”

“Sure,” Felix said. “If you didn’t love her, what would be the sense?”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Love them all. One at a time, or all together. Love makes the world go round.”

“How can you love more than one person at the same time?”

“You love your wife, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And don’t you love your blonde?”

“Yes.”

“So? There you are.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” Felix shrugged. “A woman is a woman.”

“Well, I look at it differently.”

“Only because you’ve still got the glow. Well, good. Without the glow, there’s nothing. But it’ll wear off, you’ll see. Your blonde’ll be just another wife then. That’s the time to get rid of her and start looking for a redhead.”

“I don’t think so.”

“And if you imagine you’ll have to look far, you’re crazy,” Felix said. “Do you know what America is?”

“What?”

“It’s a big soapy dishpan of boredom. That’s the truth. And no husband can understand that soapy dishpan. And a woman can’t explain it to another woman because they’ve all got their hands in that same soapy boredom. So all a man has to be is understanding. Yes, baby, I know, I know, you’ve got a miserable life, here’re some flowers, here’s some perfume, here’s ‘I love you,’ take off your pants. Bang!”