VI

ERIC HAD NEVER HAD a steady girl during his three and a half years at college, although he had had his own share of the total sexual experience. Now he found himself fighting longings for something steady, something certain, something in opposition to the uncertainty of the times. He thought about Margot a lot during the week, and then he put her out of his mind and got back to the dialogue. But on Thursday night she called him and the decision, which he later justified as his own, was made.

They began to date on weekends. At first he would go to pick her up at school and bring her to town on Friday nights. He tried to be very proper about it because he was aware, as he was sure she was, of the expectations which inevitably cloud this special kind of relationship. He wanted very much for it to be different. On the first three weekends he got a room for her with friends, and he kissed her only three times during all of this. At the beginning of the fourth weekend, however, he very cautiously and matter-of-factly invited her to spend the time in his apartment. She was very direct about her acceptance and it had surprised him, and even frightened him a little. The early part of the evening they spent talking to Jerry, the handsome roommate, who slyly glared at Margot whenever Eric was not looking. Jerry was that unhappy kind of person who wanted everything in the world without having to deserve it. He made certain comments involving witless sexual innuendo and laughed considerably before he went off on his own date, leaving them alone in the room. Eric was very uncomfortable and embarrassed. He sat away from her, on the floor.

“Don’t feel you have to stay,” he said. “If you don’t want to stay, I’ll understand.”

“I want to stay,” she said.

“Jerry is really a well-meaning person.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him. I know his type.”

Eric had been aware for a long time, perhaps even since that slight hint at their meeting, that she did have the ability to perceive and categorize people. This confirmation, now, gave him considerable discomfort and very little to say.

“At first I thought I liked Jerry,” Margot went on, “but I don’t. I can’t respect him.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t seem to have a purpose or anything to care about.”

Eric leaned toward her on the floor. “What do you care about?” he asked.

“You,” she said quite frankly. She was being honest because she could be no other way with him.

“Why?”

“Because you love me.”

Eric thought very carefully and then found that he too could be no other way but honest. “I do,” he said. “Margot, I really do.”

Then she was close to him on the floor and they were kissing.