Page 8 of Overload

Faces are unrecognizable." Mary had gone to the kitchen. While the two men were alone, as gently as he could and omitting details, Nim explained the situation.

The reaction was immediate. Wally tossed back the remainder of his scotch. With tears in his eyes he protested, "Oh Christ!-it's had enough to hear. I couldn't tell Mother that. You'll have to."

Nim was silent, dreading what was to come. Fifteen minutes later Ardythe returned. She had made up her face, rearranged her hair and changed from the dress she had been wearing into a smart blouse and skirt. While her eyes and demeanor revealed grief, superficially she was closer to her normal, attractive self. Mary, too, had returned to the living room. This time Wally replenished the drinks and the four of them sat, uneasily at first, uncertain of what to say.

It was Ardythe who broke the silence.

She said firmly, "I want to see Walter." then, turning to Wally, "Do you know where your father has been taken, what . . . arrangements have been made?"

"Well...there's a..." Wally stopped, got up and kissed his mother, then, standing where he did not have to meet her eyes, continued, “There's a problem, Mother. Nim is going to talk to you about it. Aren't you, Nim?"

Nim wished be were somewhere, anywhere, else.

"Mother, dear," Wally said, still standing. "Mary and I have to go home to the children for a while. We'll come back. And one of us will stay the night with you."

As if she had not heard, Ardythe intoned, "What problems? . . . Why can't I see Walter? . . Someone tell me."

Wally, went out quietly, Mary following. Ardythe seemed unaware they had gone.

"Please . . . Why can't I . . . ?"

Nim took her hands and held them between his own. "Ardythe, listen to me.

Walter died suddenly. It was all over in less than a second. He didn't have time to know what was happening and there could have been no pain." Nim hoped it was true. He went on, "But because of what happened, he was disfigured."

Ardythe moaned.

" Walter was my friend," Nim persisted. "I know bow be thought. He wouldn't have wanted you to see him as he is now. He would have wanted you to remember him He stopped, choked by his own emotion, not sure that Ardythe had heard or, even if she had, had understood. Once more they sat in silence.

More than an hour had gone by since Nim arrived.

"Nim," Ardythe said at length. "Have you had any dinner?"

He shook his head. “There wasn't time. I'm not hungry." He was having trouble adjusting to Ardythe's sudden changes of mood.

She got up. "I'm going to make you something."

He followed her into the compact, orderly kitchen which Walter Talbot had designed himself. Characteristically, Walter had first made a time and motion study of functions to be performed, then positioned everything for maximum convenience and a minimal need to move around. Nim seated himself at an island worktable, watching Ardythe, not interfering, reasoning she was better off with something to do. She heated soup and served it in earthenware mugs, sipping her own while she put together an omelette, seasoned with chives and mushrooms. When she divided the omelette between them, Nim discovered he was hungry after all, and ate with enjoyment. Ardythe made an initial effort, then left most of her portion. They followed the meal with strong coffee which they took into the living room. Speaking quietly and rationally, Ardythe said, "I may insist on seeing Walter."

"If you do," Nim told her, "no one can stop you. But I hope you won't."

"Those people who planted the bomb, who killed Walter and the others. Do you think they'll be caught?"

“Eventually. But it's never easy when you're dealing with crazies. Because they aren't rational, it makes them harder to catch. But if they try something similar-which they probably will-thc odds are on their being caught and punished."

"I suppose I ought to care about them being punished. But I don't. Is that bad?"

"No," Nim said. "In any case, other people will take care of that."

"Whatever happens, it can't change anything. It wouldn't bring Walter . .. or the others . . . back." Ardythe mused. "Did you know we were married thirty-six years? I should be grateful for that. It's more than many people have, and most of the time was good . . . Thirty-six years . . ." She began crying softly. "Hold me, Nim."

He put his arms around her and cradled her head on his shoulder. He could feel her crying, though not hysterically any longer. These -were tears of farewell and acceptance, of memory and love; gentle and cleansing tears as the human psyche began its healing process-as old, Unexplainable and wondrous as life itself.

Holding Ardythe, Nim became aware of a fragrant, pleasing perfume. He had not noticed it when they were close together earlier, and wondered when she had put it on. Probably when she went upstairs. He switched his thoughts away.

It was getting late, Nim realized. Outside it was fully dark, the only exterior lights from occasional passing vehicles. But the street was secluded and quiet, with traffic infrequent. Inside, the house had settled down, as houses do for the night, and was silent.

Ardythe stirred in Nim's arms. She had stopped crying and moved closer. he breathed the heady perfume once more. Then, to his consternation, be discovered his body becoming aroused, and an increasing awareness of Ardythe as a woman. He tried to divert his mind with other thoughts, to control and negate what was happening, but without success.

"Kiss me, Nim." She had moved so their faces were close. Their lips touched, gently at first, then strongly; Ardythe's mouth was seductive, warm, demanding. As he felt sexual excitement surge in them both, he asked himself: Can this be happening?

"Nim," she said softly, "turn out the lights."

He complied, a part of him urging: Don't do it! Go! Leave now! But even while despising himself, he knew he wouldn't leave, and that the inner voice was a token protest only.

There was plenty of room on the sofa. While he had turned out the lights, Ardythe had removed some of her clothing-, he helped her with the rest and swiftly shed his own. As they reached out, then held each other, he found her eager, excited and experienced. Her fingers, traveling lightly, deftly, sought to please him, and succeeded. He responded in kind. Soon, Ardythe moaned, then cried aloud, "Ob God, Nim! Don't wait any longer, please . . . please!"

He had a last, vague stirring of conscience and a sudden, dismaying notion that Wally Jr. and Mary might return, as they had said they would, and walk in. Then that and all else dissolved as pleasure and passion engulfed him.

* * *

"You're troubled, aren't you?"

"Yes," Nim admitted. "Troubled as hell."

It was an hour later. They had dressed and the lights were on. A few minutes ago Wally had phoned, announcing that he and Mary were on the way back and both would stay the night.

"Don't be." Ardythe touched his arm lightly and gave a swift, shy smile.

"You've helped me more than you know."

Nim's instincts told him she had left something unsaid: That the compatibility they had just shared was discovered rarely by two people and, in all probability, the experience would be repeated. If so, there was now a dual worry: Not only had he behaved shamefully on the day of his good friend's death, but an additional complication had entered his own life-one he didn't need.

"I'd like to explain something," Ardythe said. "I loved Walter dearly. He was a sweet, kind, gentle man. We had fun together; he was always interesting to be with. Life without him . . . well, I can't begin to think about that yet. But Walter and I hadn't had sex together for a long time-it must be six or seven years. Walter simply couldn't manage it anymore. That often happens to men, you know, much more than to women."

Nim protested, "I don't want to hear .

"Whether you do or not, you're going to. Because I don't want you leaving here tonight all mixed up and miserable. I'll tell you something else, Nim.

You didn't seduce me just now; I seduced you. And I knew what was going to happen, what I wanted to happen, long before you did."

He thought: the perfume. It had acted on him like an aphrodisiac. Could Ardythe really have intended it that way?

"When a woman is deprived of sex at home," Ardythe went on firmly, "she either manages or goes elsewhere. Well, I managed. I settled for what I had, which was a good man I still loved, and I didn't go elsewhere. But it didn't stop my wanting."

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