Page 44 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

“Nihilistic?” Soren finished. He settled back into his pillow and resumed his sweet, mindless playing of Maureen’s hair. “I don’t know. I’m more of a realist, and I know better than to expect more than what someone’s nature or environment has built them to be. I do love when people surprise me, though.” He kissed the top of her tangled hair. “You surprised me.”

“How so?”

“I thought you were a bored Garden District housewife who wouldn’t have anything interesting to say.”

Maureen stopped breathing for a moment. “And…”

“You actually have something to say.”

Maureen couldn’t recall ever saying anything especially important to Soren, so she waited for him to explain.

“We all survive this world in different ways, Maureen. Some of us choose the path of least resistance, and others fight uphill, against the snow, the rain, the wind, the earth itself. Your life isn’t easy. I like to say mine isn’t, but really, how bad can it be, living off the salt of my family, in this beautiful estate, writing poetry?”

“But you can’t live the life you most want.”

“Meanwhile, there are children in Africa who haven’t had dinner for a week.”

Maureen frowned against his skin. “Yes, but… is it really fair to compare your life to something that has nothing to do with you? Isn’t your disappointment still disappointment? Children can starve, you can be unfulfilled. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”

“Still surprising me,” Soren said lightly. “I can’t argue with that. There are more ways than one to look at the world. I like people who remind me of that.”

“And I do?”

Soren laced his arms around her and pulled her up to kiss her. With one hand, he held her hair off her forehead, and his eyes burned a hole through her. A perfect, delicious hole that he’d soon fill with more of him. “You remind me to remember. I’d lost some of my hope before I met you, and… I have to admit to you, when I agreed to meet, it wasn’t because I had any notion of finding someone I might like. I needed an escape, same as you, and instead I found…”

“Something else,” Maureen finished, not quite sure if it was right, or only felt right.

“Yeah,” Soren said, with a gentle, faraway look, as he kissed her again. “Something else.”

“Congratulations,” Augustus said. “And thanks for coming to meet me.”

“You’re being weird again,” Charles said, wrinkling his lips as he downed a tumbler of cognac. He waved the glass around in front of him, in Augustus’ direction. “And what is this? You’re wearing a jean jacket? Where in the sweet fuck did you get that? Did you steal it from Connor?”

Augustus looked down and held the flaps of his denim with a confused look. “This isn’t in fashion?”

“Jesus on a hominy grit, Aggie, of course it is, but when have you ever cared about fashion?”

Augustus recoiled a bit. “I’m not working right now, so it hardly seemed appropriate to wear my Brooks Brothers.”

“I always assumed you slept in the shit.”

“Funny.”

“Not as funny as you looking like you’re one step away from asking me to call you Pony Boy.”

“The Outsiders is a great book. You know, Charles, books, where there are words, and pages, and—”

“Ha-fucking-ha. Okay, I deserved that.” Charles held up two fingers to the bartender, who should know better by now than to set only one glass in front of him. “How long is this, er, hiatus from work going to last anyway?”

“I don’t know. As long as it needs to.”

“I see.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t be asking.” Augustus checked his Rolex. “I told Elizabeth I’d be home in an hour, so I suppose I’ll get to the point.”

“You think she’s gonna boil Ana in a stew or something if you’re late?” Charles nodded at the bartender, who brought not two, but three more. Atta boy. “Don’t forget, Lizzy can’t cook.”

Augustus glared. “I’m here about Nicolas.”

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