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“No, tell me,” Artie said.

“Artie, you know this.”

“Know what?”

“My father never really liked you.” She put her hand to her mouth as though to stop what she had just said, but she had said it, and Artie felt a small electrical jolt go through him. He watched her.

Artie finally said, “I never knew that.”

“Oh, you know.” Evie tossed her head and said, “Come on. I mean—”

“What? What is it you mean?”

“Artie. When he first met you, he naturally had some doubts. That’s all. You know that.”

And then Artie heard himself say, quietly, “Not sure I ever liked him either.” Absolutely no part of him knew that he would say that.

Evie’s eyes opened wide. “What?” she asked.

Artie sat forward.

“Did you say you’re not sure you ever liked him either?” Evie asked him.

“I did. I did say that.” Danger rumbled through Artie. He sat back. And then sat forward again.

They locked eyes, and as they were gazing at each other intently, Artie thought: You are a liar, Evie. And then he thought: Don’t say that to her. And he did not.

“And why did you not like him?” Her voice was cold now.

“Because, as you just said, he did not really like me. And a person knows these things. Without knowing it, I knew it.” Artie added, sitting back: “Also, he was vulgar.”

And that was that. She became almost insane with anger. In a way, Artie did not blame her. The entire thing was so unexpected. But she stood up, slopping her wine from its glass, and she said many things. She said that Artie would never be where he was if not for her father, she said that her father had said to her, Come on, Evie, you can do better than that. She said many things that Artie heard as though through a clattering windstorm.

Finally she said, sitting down once again, “What do you mean he was vulgar?”

“Dunno.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me why you think my father was vulgar.”

A deep sickness sat within Artie. He thought: I want to go home. He did not know what he meant by that, but he could not stop thinking it. He finally said, “Because he had so much money.”

“That doesn’t make a person vulgar, Artie.”

He understood that he was going to have to see this fight through, and he felt an exhaustion wash through him. “I shouldn’t have said it,” he said.

“But you did say it. You did say it, Artie. And what did you mean?” She was very, very angry with him.

He let out a huge sigh. “Evie, you said he never really liked me. It upset me, so I responded.”

“You said you knew he never really liked you and then you called him vulgar!”

Artie felt a vast confusion. “I said I knew he never really liked me?”

“Yes, you did. You said that less than two minutes ago. You said people always know these things and you knew that about him, and so you didn’t like him either.”

“Right. That’s right.” Artie nodded.

“And then you called him vulgar. Unbelievable. And I asked you why you thought he was vulgar.”