3

“Is this the end of the line?” The newly sterilized Lida had circled three-fourths of the block surrounding the movie house.

“I think so,” he said.

“Jesus”—Lida shook her head—“I expected to find the Holy Grail.”

They laughed, and then, as strangers do, lapsed into silence. Lida stared at her feet, wondering if the tennis shoes she was wearing made her look like a housewife.

“Are you a lesbian?” he asked.

“Why? Do they wear tennis shoes?”

The line advanced until they rounded the corner nearest the entrance. It stopped, then it began to dissolve. “Sold out,” a man called, “next show, eleven-fifty-five.”

“By eleven-fifty-five”—Lida looked at her watch—“I’ll be …”

“Great idea!” He offered his arm.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Lida asked. “To Baltimore?”

He had driven out Connecticut Avenue to the Beltway, a circumferential highway that feeds the Washington suburbs. “I’m taking you to my office.” He offered a reassuring smile.

“Oh, married, huh?” She rolled the window down and let the night air in. “I should have known.”

“Does it make a difference?” He looked over at her briefly.

“That’s a corny line. An easy lay is an easy lay is an easy lay.”

He frowned over the steering wheel, guiding the car to the exit ramp.

“In case you’re wondering,” Lida said, “I’m an old-maid English teacher. That’s why I talk this way.”

“I was wondering, as a matter of fact.”

He drove around a flat red building and parked in the empty lot. They advanced to the back door under a streetlamp. He fished for another set of keys, opened the lock, and switched on the light.

The hallway was dingy and uninspired. “If I had an office like this,” Lida said, “I’m not sure I’d bring anyone to it.”

He led her to yet another door, repeated the procedure, and stepped aside.

Lida preceded him into the room. “Much better,” she said.

“We aren’t there yet.” There was one more door. “Wait.” He went inside and lit a small table lamp.

Lida sat on the sofa and stared at the row of diplomas that faced her. “Oh, no. Not a doctor.”

He laughed. “Psychiatrist,” he said, laughing still.

“Did someone I know put you up to this?”

He began to undo the knot in his tie.