Page 80 of Lucky Night

He shifts in the chair, uncrosses his legs to ease the pressure. Why is he bringing up religion? Jenny’s Catholicism, the faith that’s so wonderfully, voluptuously specific concerning its carnal proscriptions. Concerning lust.

Such a great word,lust.It sounds rich and dirty, feels exactly as it should in the mouth.

Lust. Lust.He mouths the word.

Lust.

No, she says. It was more personal than the church.

The church. Jenny in a church, confessing her sins in a whisper. Her erotic crimes. Getting aroused, starting to touch herself, right there in the shadowy confessional—

I made a promise, she says. To Tom. And to the family we planned on having. It was a commitment, you know? It was—is—very important to me. To stick to it. No matter how much either of us screwsup.

He nods, trying to listen, but he’s distracted because in his head he’s taking her from behind in front of a baroque altar, the scent of candles is overpowering, chanting echoes through the cathedral from some nearby monks.

Monks? He needs to stop. He needs to pull out of Sister Jenny right now and—

So it’s more about the social contract, he says. You agreed to a set of terms and conditions, mutual rights, and you feel honor bound to abide by them.

Well, except I haven’t been abiding by them for years, she says.

Maybe not all the terms, but that doesn’t mean you’re in breach of the entire agreement. Or that you’re willing to terminate.

This is becoming very legalistic, she says.

It is, because he thought using dry, analytical terms liketerminateandmutual rightsmight quell his now-raging horniness. Instead he finds himself in a courtroom, fucking her on a file-strewn counsel’s table in view of the jury, she’s wearing a skirt suit, and her legs are—

To recap, he says. You won’t leave him, but you’ll cheat on him. Why?

Well well, she says, smiling at him. Look who’s attacking the bulwarks.

Bulkheads, he says, smiling back at her. And look who’s deflecting.

Me? Never! She stands. But I do have to pee.

Back to the old throne room. In and out this time, though, no loitering. Because she’s really not deflecting—she has a small bladder! She’ll tell him whatever he wants to know.

Does he really want to know anything, though, or is he tit-for-tatting, maintaining the balance between them? As if there’s ever been a balance.

Okay, maybe she’ll loiter a little. She brought his phone with her—she scrolls through the latest videos taken outside the building. So many fire trucks. But the crowd seems thinner. Gawkers getting cold, and bored—that’s a good sign. She’s certainly not bored, though she’s felt surprisingly calm this last little while. Flares of panic few and far between. The call from the fire department helped.

She should check on Edvin. She dials her number. Sorry, Norman’s number. What was Nick’s suggestion for a new phone pseudonym? Aphrodite of the what?

Also, Best Sex Partner Ever? Is that true?

The phone rings and rings.

Then it goes to voicemail.

That’s unfortunate. That’s unsettling. She rises and flushes and goes to the sink.

Caroline doesn’t enjoy sleeping with him. Does she find him too demanding? Maybe it’s gotten stale, too familiar. But she and Tom are familiar, and she still enjoys sex with him. Though it’s different. She’s different. Tom would probably love to meet Best-Sex-Partner-Ever Jenny, Aphrodite of the Whatever. But he never has.

How could he? She can’t be that Jenny with him. They have a completely different relationship—longer, deeper, encompassingalmost every aspect of their shared lives. If she was better in bed, she’d be worse in other ways, the ways that make them work. And she wouldn’t even know how to be different. There’sJenny-with-Tom, and Jenny-with-Nick—women who don’t just fuck differently, but talk differently, or at least about different things. Who move differently, probably even think differently.

Which one is real? Or are they both just roles she’s playing, and once again there’s some baseline Jenny lurking inside, unified and coherent? A just-Jenny, no male modifier required. No lies necessary.

Who knows? Even if there is some primal Jenny, the Jenny out here will never find her. She’ll remain a mystery. Like Caroline. So poised and cool. Does that explain her lack of interest in Nick? She could be cold, one of those women who doesn’t enjoy okay now you’re being sexist. It could be some fundamental physical mismatch, a pheromonal thing. Or maybe Nick is kind of a doofus in Caroline’s eyes, the way Tom is a doofus in hers.

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