“Ms. Galjour, I'm awfully glad you could come.”
Julie Galjour smiled as she slid into the booth opposite Joe T. She looked radiant—the Guv was always confused as to whether this was actually an inner glow or an outer glow.
“Governor Evangeline, I'm glad to be here. And, Minna, well, she's quite persuasive.”
“Isn't she though?” the Guv replied. “And a slave driver, too. She's really my boss—I hope you understand that.”
“Of course,” said Julie. “I knew that from the minute I saw you two together.”
The Guv found himself laughing. Their banter was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up Morvant Grill's wooden stairs. A man, balding, tall, and wearing chinos, a starched denim shirt, and a paisley tie, appeared at the table bearing menus. He introduced himself as the owner, John Morvant. He greeted Joe T. with the warm reserve Minna had promised, took their orders for hickory-grilled redfish as Minna had suggested, and retired, but not before paying Julie Galjour a compliment.
“We keep up with you in the papers, Ms. Galjour, and I want to say you do us proud. You've done well and done good at the same time—not bad for a li'l bayou gal.”
Julie blushed, rose, and offered her hand. “You flatter me, Mr. Morvant, but I appreciate the kind words.”
When Morvant had retreated, Joe T. nudged Julie's arm across the table. “Well, look at you—a rock star known far and wide. I'll have to keep an eye on you. You may want to take my job someday.”
Julie shook her head. “Never. I don't know how you do it. I like my privacy too much. Life in a such a big goldfish bowl just isn't for me. It takes a certain kind of, uh—well—”
“Fool?” Joe T. volunteered.
Julie looked at him, mildly flustered. “That's not exactly the word I had in mind. Maybe ‘temperament’?”
Joe T. nodded. “Actually, ‘fool’ is the better word.”
Julie smiled. There followed a silence, though not an awkward one. Finally, the Guv spoke up. “I want to try to explain about Tracy Breaux. Well, actually more than that.”
“You don't have to explain, Joe. It's okay, I—”
Joe T. put up his hand. “I know I don't have to explain. But I want to. I could accept, of course, that you may not be interested.”
“I'm interested in whatever it is you want to tell me.”
What followed was a monologue of self-disclosure that surprised the Guv himself. Unexpected things came out in unexpected ways. The major points were that he had not been much of husband to Gloria; had not been much of a friend to the women he consorted with, and certainly not to Tracy Breaux, with whom he acknowledged he had almost nothing in common (oh, and by the way, he had gone to see Tracy and taken his medicine, and oh, yes, it wasn't any fun); had not actually enjoyed the chase nearly as much as he let on. He'd found himself on a search for a life that might actually have a chance of being real—though he had no idea what in the hell that meant. Sometimes he woke up thinking this state—this damnable state of intruding selfawareness—was the real problem, and sometimes he tried very hard to just banish that state from his life.
But so far banishment had not worked, and sometimes that seemed a damned shame, too, because his old self seemed to have a hell of a lot more fun than his new self.
When this monologue was over, well after the grilled redfish had come and Joe had picked at it fitfully (while vaguely registering that it was delicious), he realized he'd said so much that it was entirely possible these revelations might have the exact opposite effect on Julie than what he'd intended, might send her running as far and fast as possible from the sorry-assed and chronically perplexed Joe T. Evangeline.
And he hadn't even gotten yet into the possibility that he could be viewed, if certain events came to light, as a fraud and a criminal!
He suddenly wished he'd ordered whisky instead of iced tea—no, actually, a double whisky—especially when he looked up and saw an unreadable look on Julie Galjour's face. He was prepared for all kinds of things—anger, disgust, or even outright revulsion, but not indifference. He gazed at her intently and said, “Ah, well. There, I've said too much, obviously. I, uh—”
Then she utterly surprised him.
She looked up with a half smile, reached across the table, and placed her very warm hand on his hand.
“Joe, it's okay. We're all soul searching. And as for love and attraction, well, Shakespeare wrote about it as farce and tragedy, which it often resembles. The gods themselves have made a mess of love and attraction, so how can mere mortals be totally blamed? Heaven knows I've made a mess of a relationship or two.”
“You, Ms. Galjour, making a mess? I would've never guessed such a thing.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Why would you think that, Joe? You know, I'm not quite as put together as you think I am. And Daddy thinks I might be a little too picky.”
“Too picky? In what way?” replied the Guv. “You don't eat your carrots?”
Julie smiled. “Hah, I wish. No, in relationships. I have lots of men friends, but honestly, I don't know if I've ever actually, well… been in love.”
The Guv took this in, trying not to show that he was somewhat startled. “Really?”
“Hmm, well, maybe once or twice. But I don't know—most of my romantic relationships have come to bore me.”
“Bore you?”
Julie smiled. “Governor, I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe it's just a way of showing that on one level I can commiserate. On the other hand, I'm not the one medicating my midlife crisis with a young assistant—and feeling awful about it. But yours wouldn't be the only restless heart out there.”
Restless heart? Jesus, where was this going?
“Anyway,” Julie continued, “Daddy says a lot of men grow up slow, and some are worth the wait. Minna thinks you're on the slow track but not incorrigible. I'm not sure what to think, except to say that I do value Daddy's and Minna's opinions. And they both do like you.”
With this, her smile bloomed and Joe T. could only nod. No doubt he was being lectured, in a fashion, but it seemed so, well…affectionate.
Then Julie's visage changed.
“Look, Joe, I accept that you've been through a lot. Just coming to grips with Gloria's death given your complicated relationship with her is, well—” She stopped as if in thought, then added, “Well, it must be unimaginably hard.”
The Guv could only nod. He was so used to bogus political sentiments about his well-being that he was having trouble getting his arms around real ones. After a silence, he said, “Ah, well. You know, Minna thinks all I really need is a good friend.”
He looked intently at Julie, then found himself looking away.
Joe, son, that sounded so needy. Get a grip!
“Look,” Julie replied, “if you need a friend, count me in. But you need to make sure it's friendship you seek and not something else. As the world is currently configured, nothing else is possible, and I wouldn't want either of us to be disappointed.”
The Guv realized this statement had on some level already disappointed him, but he brushed the feeling aside. Candid Joe spoke up again. “Okay, fair enough. But as a matter of full disclosure, this is new territory for me. I mean, you are, well, attractive, Ms. Galjour, and my natural inclinations won't allow me to totally ignore that. You're also smart and extremely good at what you do, and believe it or not, I find that hugely attractive as well.”
Julie nodded. “Joe, you flatter me, really. And I don't know what to say about the rest of this except that, well, while you do sometimes exasperate me, I've never been, uh, bored.” Then she smiled—a mysterious Mona Lisa–like smile.
And Joe T. found himself thinking, Christ, I'm falling in love under the most ridiculous circumstances imaginable.
Should he just tell her the rest of it? His complicated secret? Roll the dice and take his chances? Get it all out there?
No, he just couldn't. It was just too exhaustingly complicated to explain. It could be so easily misunderstood.
“Listen,” he said, “I just want you to promise me that if you should ever hear bad things about me—well, things worse than perhaps you've already heard—you won't automatically believe them. You'll give me a chance to explain.”
Julie looked at him quizzically. “Of course. But what does that mean? You aren't in any kind of trouble, are you?”
The Guv paused, teetering on the brink of disclosure again.
“Nah,” he replied. “There's just some stupid political stuff stirring in the background. It's nothing really—an annoyance. It may, in fact, be a nonissue. It's just—”
“Well, now you have me worried. If there's something you want to tell me, please do.”
“Ah, listen, I was silly to bring it up. And really, I promise, it's nothing. And anyway, I'm Joe. T. Evangeline, remember? The most resilient politician on earth. But I'm relieved to know that my friend is worried.”
At this the Guv attempted a mischievous smile, and it seemed to work, for Julie smiled back.
John Morvant reappeared, offering coffee and then the bill, which the Guv scrupulously paid with a flourish of his personal American Express card, though Julie insisted they ought to split it. To which the Guv replied, “Hey, I have a better idea—let's send it to Minna!”
Julie Galjour laughed her utterly unaffected laugh, and Joe T. Evangeline found himself laughing as well, in a way that he had not laughed in a very long time.