He in his suit pants and untucked dress-shirt and she in her robe, they pulled things together for a couple of sandwiches and milk and sat to watch the TV as they ate. Watching and not talking was what they needed.
Right after ten, Kate heard a message coming in.
{Eileen: How did it go?}
“It’s Eileen. I’ll take it in the kitchen.”
“Make her feel bad about settling for that bank flunky.”
{Kate: He’s still here.}
{Eileen: Damn. Did you ???????}
{Kate: I don’t kiss and tell.}
{Kate: But it was spectacular.}
{Eileen: WOW! Can we talk or tomorrow?}
{Kate: Tomorrow. He’s staying the night.}
{Eileen: You slut!}
{Kate: You had your chance. I hope Tom was worth it.}
{Eileen: He is. Believe me. Sleep well. Love you.}
{Kate: And me you.}
{Kate: Don’t tell the girls.}
{Eileen: My lips are sealed.}
{Eileen: BTW. How are his lips?}
{Kate: ALL of my lips have nothing but good things to say about his. Night.}
There was not much Eileen could say to that. So after staring at the last message for a minute, she responded.
{Eileen: I’m happy for you. I do love you.}
{Kate: Thanks. And me you. G’Night.}
And after an hour or so of TV, they tracked down where Simon’s toothbrush had been thrown, got ready for bed—Kate tracked down own of Eric’s t-shirts for Simon to wear with his briefs—and then slept together, both falling asleep pretty quickly notwithstanding how exciting each found it to be in bed with the other.
Saturday
Suzanne and Kerry drove down and found a parking spot on West 89th Street after circling the block only a couple of times. It was Saturday, perhaps thirty-six hours since Simon entered Kate. On Friday morning, a car picked him up early so he could get home, shower—the thought of doing it alone suddenly troubling—and get into the office by nine. They kissed as he left the apartment. He left it for her to ask about getting together again. And when she did, he jumped at the chance, and he said he would meet her for brunch on Sunday and maybe they could spend the afternoon together “outside.”
Kate told Suzanne and Kerry on the phone about her evening with Simon, without naming him, in broad strokes—”he spent the night and that is all I will say”—and the girls were primed for details. Kate buzzed them in and they dumped some bags in the kitchen and plopped on the sofa and waited.
Kate sat across from them. “Okay girls. What do you know about Simon Douglas?”
Kerry looked at Suze and back at her mother-in-law.
“You mean the guy my Mom went out with before she ended up with Tom?”
“That’s the one. I’ve spoken to your Mom about him. I want your opinion.”
Kerry said, “I met him when he first went out with Mom. I liked him. If it weren’t for him, I do not know whether she would have responded when Tom approached her. She was so in her shell. I mean, I didn’t see much of him. Mom just wanted to see what my first impression was and I liked him.”
After thanking Kerry, Kate told the pair that she had a very nice evening with him and that he stayed the night, refusing to give any further details, ignoring their pleas. Although, frankly, Suzanne did not want to know.
“We’re not saying that he is not the one. Just that you might want to do a bit of exploration before you dive in.”
There was some irony in Suzanne saying this. She had one lover in her life and was sitting next to her on Kate’s sofa. And her wife had only one woman lover, and that was Suzanne. Kate told them how wonderful the spontaneous sex had been with Simon, and Suzanne and Kerry got her to admit that he was only the second man—”person,” she made clear—to whom she ever made love.
“Yeah, he might be it. I liked him when I met him briefly before Mom chose Tom. And more importantly, Mom really liked him too.”
“She told me. In fact, she said not to go all the way with him because I might blow a chance for something long term and that Simon was one worth playing the long game for.”
“So why did you have sex on the first—”
“It just happened. I made it happen and I don’t regret it.”
“Mother. You have to decide whether it was sex with a man or sex with this man.”
After Kate said she needed to think about it, the three headed out to one of their haunts on Broadway for brunch and the subject was not again broached, though it was paramount in all three of their minds.
Sunday
Kate spent the next afternoon with Simon. He drove down. The couple walked to and across Central Park to the Metropolitan Museum. This was more their style than was the Guggenheim, and they wandered from gallery to gallery engaging in a conversation that except for a few stutters had all the earmarks of two long-time friends enjoying a Sunday afternoon in the Park.
They were both tired by the time they left the Museum, but Kate insisted on walking back to her apartment after they got some coffee at a place on Madison Avenue. They rested on two of the stools there, watching the people pass by and enjoying each other’s company as they got their second winds. Eileen was right. Simon had a way with women, and to Kate, in particular, their comfort was in part the product of what they had done to and for each other on Thursday night.