Gryphon_ New and Selected Stories - Charles Baxter [119]
Jodie said nothing.
“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t say anything, either. I thought he was Prince Charming, too. I’ve been there. And believe me, I had to kiss a lot of frogs before I found the right guy. I had to kiss them in every damn place they had. But he won’t tell you. He won’t tell you about himself,” she repeated. “Ask his father, though. His father will tell you. Well, maybe he’ll tell you. You haven’t met his father yet, have you?”
She speared a piece of her Caesar salad, chewed thoughtfully, then put down her fork.
“A woman has to tell another woman,” she said, “in the case of a man like this. I wanted to help you. I wouldn’t want you to be on daytime TV, one of those afternoon talk shows, in a body cast onstage, warning other women about men like this. Jodie, you can look in my eyes and see that what I’m telling you is true.”
Jodie looked. The eyes she saw were gray and blank, and for a moment they reminded her of the blankness of the surface of the ocean, and then the waters parted, and she saw a seemingly endless landscape of rancor, a desert of gray rocks and black ashy flowers. Demons lived there. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the desert was covered over again, and Jodie knew that she had been right not to believe her.
“You’re lying to me,” Jodie said. She hadn’t meant to say it, only to think it, but it had come out, and there it was.
Gleinya Roberts nodded, acknowledging her own implausibility. “You’re just denying. You’re gaga over him. Just as I was. Taking a cruise on his pleasure ship. But, Jodie, trust me, that cruise is going to end. Don’t play the fool.”
“What?”
“I said, ‘Don’t play the fool.’ ”
“I thought that was what you said.”
Jodie, her head buzzing, and most of her cells on fire, found herself standing up. “You come in here,” she said, “with your trophy wedding ring, and your trophy pregnancy, and your husband who says you’re still pretty, and you tell me this, about Walton, spoiling the first happiness I’ve had in I don’t know how long? Who the hell are you? What are you? You don’t even look especially human.” Gleinya Roberts tilted her head, considering this statement. Her face was unaccountably radiant. “I don’t have to listen to you,” Jodie said. “I don’t have to listen to this nonsensical bullshit.”
Her hands shaking, she reached into her purse for some money for the beer, and she heard Gleinya Roberts say, “Oh, I’ll pay for it,” while Jodie found a ten-dollar bill and flung it on the table. She saw that Gleinya Roberts’s face was paralyzed in that attitude of soundless laughter—maybe it was just strain—and Jodie was stricken to see that the woman’s teeth were perfect and white and symmetrical, and her tongue—her tongue!—was dark red and sensual as it licked her upper lip. Jodie leaned forward to tip over her beer in Gleinya Roberts’s direction, careful to give the action the clear appearance of accident.
What was left of the beer made its dull way over to the other side of the table and dribbled halfheartedly downward.
“He’s beautiful,” Jodie said quietly, as the other woman gathered up the cloth napkins to sop up the beer, “and he makes sense to me, and I don’t have to listen to you now.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “You go live with Glaze. You do that. But just remember: That man is like the kea. Ever heard of it? I didn’t think so. It’s a beautiful bright green New Zealand bird. It’s known for its playfulness. But it’s a sheep killer. It picks out their eyes. Just remember the kea. And take this.” From somewhere underneath the table she grasped for and then handed Jodie an audiocassette. “It’s a predator tape. Used for attracting hawks and coyotes. It used to be his favorite listening. Just fascinated the hell out of him. It’ll surprise you. Women don’t know about men. Men don’t let them.”
Jodie had taken the tape, but she was now halfway out of the restaurant. Still, she heard behind her that voice coming after her. “Men don’t want us to know. Jodie, they don’t!”
In a purely distanced and distracted state, she took a bus over to