Free Dumping Billy by Olivia Goldsmith

how could he do this? Who does he think he is? The Magellan of certified public accountants?” Bina asked. “How could he?”
    Kate looked into her imploring eyes, but she had no easy answers. “Even if he leaves for Hong Kong, he’ll have that long flight alone, he’ll miss you, he’ll remember the good times and how much he loves you. . . .” She paused, hoping that all she conjectured was true. She wanted to comfort Bina, but not lie to her. If an eight-year-old like Brian had to face the death of his mother, Kate believed it would be best for Bina to face the death of her relationship with Jack, if that’s what it was. But it couldn’t have suffered a mortal wound. Bina was lovable, and Jack, slow moving as he was, had always seemed to adore her. “I’m sure he’ll call. Even if he leaves for Hong Kong, I bet he sends you a ticket to join him and proposes there,” Kate ventured hopefully.
    “Men are just funny. . . .”
    “Not homosexual ones,” Elliot said as he walked back into the room carrying a knitted afghan throw. “We’re fucking hysterical.” He knelt beside Bina and wrapped her up in it. Brice came out of the kitchen carrying a full tray, which he put down gracefully on the coffee table. Arrayed before them were four dessert plates, the plate of profiteroles, a silver server of piping hot dark chocolate sauce, lace-trimmed napkins, a crystal shot glass, and a frosted bottle of Finlandia. “All for you,” Brice said.
    Bina looked at the tray. “I’d love some dessert, but I don’t drink,” she told him.
    “You do tonight, honey,” Brice said, and poured her a shot. “Chocolate and alcohol together beat the shit out of Prozac.”
    Bina looked at him, at the brimming shot glass, and to Kate’s utter surprise she took it from him and knocked it back.
    “Good girl!” Elliot said. “And here’s your chaser,” Brice added, and handed Bina the pastries. “You know what they say: Just a spoonful of sugar . . .”
    Bina picked up the plate to dig in.
    “Wait just a minute,” Brice said. “The doctor is in.” He took hold of the silver pitcher, raised it theatrically, and poured the bitter chocolate over the ice-cream pastry.
    Kate looked at the three of them, entranced, not sure if she was experiencing pleasure or discomfort. Her two worlds had merged here on the Fortuny upholstered sofa, and all one could have said was that it seemed quiet on the western front. Then Brice filled the shot glass again and handed it to Bina, who, docile as a kosher lamb, drank it down. That broke Kate’s trance. “Guys, this is more serious than something a drink and an overdose of carbohydrates will cure,” she told them.
    “Honey, there’s nothing that will cure this. But alcohol and sugar will temporarily dull the pain,” Brice replied. “Trust me. I know.”
    Bina, fully involved with her dessert, looked up from it with a dazed expression on her face. Elliot wiped the chocolate from around her mouth with the lace napkin.
    “Who are these guys, Katie?” Bina asked, looking at Elliot and Brice with some confusion. “Are they therapists, too? They’re very good.”
    “No, dear. This is my friend Elliot, who works with me at school, and his partner, Brice,” Kate told her. Bina smiled, but it was obvious that Kate’s words were merely washing over her. She realized just how drunk Bina was.
    “Why am I here?” Bina asked. “And why are they roomoots?”
    She slurred her words, and only God knew how slurred her mind was. Again Kate wished that she hadn’t mixed Brooklyn with Manhattan. They were parallel universes and, like parallel lines, should never touch.
    Despite her concern, however, Kate was slightly amused watching Bina’s expression—surprise mixed with curiosity and a soupçon of horror—as she looked from Elliot to Brice and back. At Bina’s next words, however, her amusement dissolved, and she cringed in anticipation.
    “Oh, so
you’re
the—”
    “Mathematical one,”