"What about tomorrow?" he asked. "And the next day?"
"If you lend me a car, I'll drive down and see my mother tomorrow as long as I'm so close. I'll pray she'll be the person who recognizes me but if she doesn't, I'll understand. Then I'll go back to my shitty job and do some thinking. The next day, and the one after? I don't know, Paul. I just don't know. No, I'm not saying I'll never see you again. The next three weeks are tanked for both of us because of our schedules. After that, I just don't know."
Nor did I know what I expected for a response, but Paul simply asked if he could continue to telephone me each night. "Those conversations made my day. I love talking to you."
This guy could take some hard punches. Out spoken foul mouthed Sarah Blanding had swung from the floor and he wasn't down yet. We had a memorable dinner and proved we could enjoy each other's company in spite of all that transpired, especially the accusations I'd so imprudently put forth. I had at least two more manhattans, and Paul seemed to keep up with me. Once again I was quite drunk but I was so mixed up in my feelings I didn't care. I gave him a hard time about the expense of flying me back Sunday night on the private jet and he agreed to purchase a conventional ticket.
Thankfully, and prudently, a car picked us up for the trip to the hotel as neither of us was in shape to drive. I remember kissing Paul on the sidewalk, in the lobby and at the elevator. In spite of my earlier commitment, I have no doubt I would have dragged him into my room had he allowed me. However, either his liquor capacity or common sense must have exceeded mine because I slept alone. Once again I was absent pajamas which I'd forgotten in my shopping activities, but I was beginning to get used to sleeping naked.