Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/302

. He did not want to flee this time; only to settle back peacefully on the wide bed with the darkness around him like a living thing, around and within, filling up the echoing contentedness of his heart.

Paul said lazily, "I want a cigarette. Want one, Ted?"

"Uh huh … there's some in my shirt."

"I've some right here." And Paul swung sideways and turned on a lamp. Something lay forlorn on the floor near the bed. It was their clothes. He grinned, looking at them, and reached for a cigarette box. He handed Ted a lighted one and lit one for himself. Then he put a pillow behind Ted's back and asked, "How's that?"

"Wonderful … only one thing missing." Ted held out his arms and the other crawled into them.

"I'd just like to lay here and dream and dream."

"Dream of what?"

"Just dream."

"No bad dreams … I hope … just pleasant ones?"

"Some are good … one isn't …"

"What isn't?"

"When are you going back to Los Angeles … and your wife?" "I'm not going back," he answered. He glanced at the hand in his. It was strong, long fingered, manicured and entirely capable. He looked for lines of effeminacy in the face, but the eyes were male, yet tender and kind. They reminded him of a picture he had seen in the Huntington Library in Pasadena of a young man of days long past, but he couldn't remember the artist or the name of the picture. He went on … "No … Paul … I'm not going back … I never intended to. I'm divorced." His mouth was so close to the other's that his breath rustled against the other's lips.

So this wasn't a one night stand after all, Paul thought. And they wouldn't be wasting last moments laughing at each other, telling how much fun it had been and hope to see you again. He would not stroll back to the bedroom alone after he had said goodbye to Ted … because he was not leaving … or was he …?

"Are you staying in New Orleans?" Paul asked.

"I'm staying in New Orleans … I hope you'll let me come back once in a while." 292