Melancholy Baby

“It’s just, you know, a phrase,” I said.

Dr. Silverman nodded.

“Tell me about it,” she said.

So I told her about letting Rosen think I’d sleep with him, and I told her about sleeping with Franklin.

“I took some pictures of him,” I said. “I’ll show them to Karp and see if Franklin is the man who hired him.”

“And if he is?”

“I’ve been sleeping with the enemy.”

“A possibility you knew about when you chose to,” Dr. Silverman said.

“Yes.”

Dr. Silverman was quiet.

“I feel kind of dirty,” I said.

“How so?”

“Well, pretending I’d, ah, come across for poor, fat Ike Rosen, just so I could get him to tell me what I needed to know.”

“You’re in a tough business,” Dr. Silverman said. “There’s no reason not to use whatever advantages you have.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you feel dirty about Franklin?” Dr. Silverman said.

“No. Isn’t that odd.”

“Odd?”

“Yes. I mean, he may be a very bad man, and I knew he might be, and I hopped right into bed with him.”

“His faults may be his charm,” Dr. Silverman said.

“What’s that mean?” I said.

“Perhaps you can enjoy him more,” she said, “because he’s almost certainly not going to become a long-term relationship.”

“Because he might be a bad guy.”

“You didn’t spend the night,” Dr. Silverman said.

“No,” I said. “I hate to spend the night.”

“Really?”

“You know... how you look when you wake up and how he does, and the bathroom business, and getting dressed while he watches you... It’s all just, sort of, ah, uncomfortable, once the passion subsides. Besides, he might want to again, and I never want to first thing in the morning.”

Dr. Silverman smiled. I wondered if she ever worried about spending the night.

“Do you think leaving when the sex is over underscores that it’s only about sex?”

“I suppose,” I said.

We were quiet. Dr. Silverman watched me pleasantly. I drummed my fingers gently on my thighs for a moment. Dr. Silverman watched me do that. A student of body language, too? It was very interesting, what we’d talked about. Did I want to make it clear that it was in fact only slam, bam, thank you, ma’am? Or was it after all only the inconveniences of spending the night with anyone you didn’t know well... or did.

I said, “Let me tell you about a dream.”

She nodded.

“I’m out walking in a rural landscape with Rosie. There’s a little arched bridge over a stream at the top of a hill where we’re walking. It’s not a place I’ve been to in real life, that I can remember. It’s sort of a generic painterly kind of still-life landscape. Rosie keeps running in wider and wider circles. When I call her, she comes back, but not all the way. She’s having a grand time. But I’m a little uneasy about her running loose without any certainty that she’ll come back. Usually, she’s on a leash.”

Dr. Silverman waited. Still interested.

“And that’s all,” I said.

“How did you feel?”

“In the dream or when I woke up.”

Dr. Silverman smiled.

“Either one,” she said.

“In the dream, as I said, I was uneasy, anxious about her.”

Dr. Silverman nodded.

“And after?” she said. “When you were awake?”

“That’s the funny thing,” I said. “Now, awake, I kind of like the dream. I like to think about her running free like that.”

“Unleashed,” Dr. Silverman said.

I looked at her for a moment. What was she up to?

“Yes,” I said. “Unleashed.”

She nodded and was quiet. I was quiet. I didn’t know where to go with it. After a while, Dr. Silverman looked at her watch. She always did it the same way. It was ritualized. A way to say, “It’s time.”

“I...”

“We’re out of time today,” she said.

“I don’t...”

She waited a minute.

Then she said, “There’s no hurry. I’ll see you Thursday.”

I stood and walked to the door. She stood as she always did and walked to the door with me.

“Unleashed,” I said.

She smiled and opened the door.

I went out.

35

Under the heading of no hard feelings, I had lunch with Lewis Karp, at a coffee shop on Washington Street in Brighton. Lewis looked around a bit nervously when he came in, and didn’t see Spike, and seemed to relax. He ordered a cheeseburger. I had tuna salad on whole wheat. We both had coffee.

“So, you talk to Ike Rosen?” Karp said.

The continuing absence of Spike seemed to make him positively expansive.

“I did.”

“He’s a great guy, isn’t he?”

“A very friendly person,” I said.

“So, did he help you out?”

“Yes. He sent me to a lawyer named Peter Franklin,” I said.

“And?”

I took an eight-by-ten blowup out of my big shoulder bag and handed it to Karp. He studied it, making a considerable show of frowning and turning the picture for a different angle.

“I think that might be him,” Karp said. “You got any other shots?”

I took several more out of my bag and placed them side by side on the table. Karp looked some more. Frowning, squinting, sitting back, cocking his head. He did everything with the pictures but taste them. I was quiet, enjoying the show.

Finally he said, “Yeah. That’s him.”

“You’re sure?” I said. “Would you like more time?”

My humor was lost on him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”

“He’s the man who came to see you and asked that you find someone to intimidate Sarah and then me?”