They were able to get out right on time because after that one-hour last hit, they pretty much had nothing and Tommy was not inclined to seat any latecomers. No latecomers came, and that was a blessing because he did not have to turn anyone away.
Arlene poured them white wine. They stood in her kitchen leaning against the counter.
“I hoped you’d come over,” she said. “I didn’t want to ask, but I’m glad we’re here.”
“I would have gone straight home,” Bill said. “I am getting married in about two weeks. But she decided to go out with her friends. Go figure.”
“I want us to stay friends,” Arlene said. “I know you’re getting married and I don’t want to interfere in that. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to be the one you cheated with first.”
“Second be okay?”
“Better than first.”
They both laughed. They both put their glasses on the counter and faced each other, moved into each other’s arms. They kissed, a nice kiss, a familiar one, and then they kissed again, a deeper kiss.
“Let’s take a shower,” Arlene suggested.
“Let’s smoke a joint and pop some downs.”
Arlene refilled both glasses then followed Bill into the living room. She kicked off her shoes and sat next to him on the sofa, her feet tucked under her.
Bill tossed some rolled joints on the coffee table and pulled a pill box from his pocket. He opened it and Arlene saw that inside were eight Quaaludes. He gave her two, took two and put the pill box on the table.
For a few moments they sat, drank down the wine, talked. Then, as they talked, Bill lit a joint, hit on it a couple of times and passed it to her.
Arlene was telling him that her mother was almost finished with the round of chemo she was enduring. She was saying that thanks to God and the doctors she was doing well and the prognosis, for what it was worth, was encouraging.
In the midst of exhaling, she said, “You’ve been a real pillar of strength for me. Remember when we first talked, what a mess I was?”
Bill took the joint from her. “I remember. And I remember I was glad to have someone to talk to too.”
“I hope we’ll still be able to talk after you get hitched.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Good.” Arlene smiled, a sly smile. “How bad you want to be?” she asked.
After the shower, Bill did not wear any underwear. He sat on the sofa with his pants and his shirt on, barefoot, the shirt open. His underwear had gotten soaked through within the first hour of work and had stayed soaked all the way through the first letup. It seemed wholly improper to put it on as it was now that he was cleaned up and he did not have anything extra in the car.
Arlene wore a robe. She sat on the sofa with her feet tucked under her again.
“I am dog tired,” she said.
“Me too,” Bill said. “But I feel good now, clean and pleasantly high.”
“Quaaludes are always nice.”
“You bet.”
“Anything you want to tell me?” Arlene asked.
“Like what?”
“Like this going to be our last time?”
“Might be. Maybe up to you.”
“You going to stop messing around after you’re married?”
“That’s my plan, plain and simple. I already cut it off with Lorraine.”
“You know Brooklyn and Lilly are plotting something.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t know yet exactly. But if I find out I’ll let you know.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“In the scope of things, nope.” Arlene smiled, sipped her wine. When she’d put her glass back down, she inched closer to Bill, kissed him softly then stood up and faced him.
“Promise me no matter what we’ll stay friends,” she said as she loosed the tie on her robe.
