remember what happened after Mass–if she looked at meor not.
"Maybe she was a postulant, or just a visitor from out of the neighborhood. I guess I'll never know."
Donna was leaning back in her chair, almost slouching. She tapped her index finger on the table, waiting for the reaction. Sam looked down.
"Maybe she was Our Lady," Buzz said.
"Oh, get out of here!" Donna pursed her lips and waved Buzz away. Sam chuckled.
"But this is my apartment," Buzzrejoined.
"So what?" Donna asked.
"Hey," Sam said, looking at the clock over the stove. "It's almost ten. We still have to carry the fridge up seven flights of stairs."
"Carry it up?" Buzz asked, confused.
"Yeah, you said we had to carry it up. It was a real dog getting it on my pick-up."
Donna sat up and stretched out her arms.
"I never said we had to carry it up. There's a service elevator inthis building. I just worded it so you would think it had to be carried up, so you would be relieved when you got here. You see, I'm very manipulative. But up front about it. Alcoholism. Codependency. Dysfunctional. All that happy stuff. I just need a hug, and I'll be okay."
"I don't think you'll ever be okay, Gwynne," Sam observed.
Buzz frowned. Donna laughed lightly.
"Thank you. More good news:I got the landlord to lend me one of those heavy-duty handtrucks."
"Good news, indeed! Let's get it done," Sam said.
"I need to call my folks. They must be worried," Donna interrupted. "Can I use your phone, Buzz?"
"Be my guest."
"I already am your guest."
"Ha, ha," Sam said.
Donna called her folks. She was twenty-two, free, and a good girl about calling home.
Twenty minutes later, the fridgewas in place in Buzz's kitchen.
"Time for a video!" Buzz exclaimed.
"Video?" Sam asked. "You've got to be kidding. I've got to go to work tomorrow."
"But it's Friday night, tomorrow's Saturday," Donna said, confused.
"Our friend Sam is a self-made man," Buzz explained. "A responsible captain of industry. A hard-driving entrepreneur creating much-needed high-tech jobs in a global economy, keepingAmerica on the cutting edge. And he's a workaholic. Saturdays? Sam works on Sundays. Obsessive-compulsive. I've seen it before at my AA meetings, Donna. It's not pretty."
"It's late, Buzz. I'm going home," Sam said seriously.
"For your own good, Sam, I think you need to see this movie. It's an important film. It's cinema. A work of art. You need to see it to deal with your dysfunctional codependencyworkaholism. In fact, I rented this movie with you in mind. As therapy. Think of me as your support group."
Sam couldn't help but smile.
"Okay, Buzz, what movie is it? Is it one of those French flicks with subtitles and incomprehensible plots?"
"Even better. The Terminator–"
"I loved The Terminator!" Donna interrupted.
"Now you can love it all over again, this time on the small screen," Buzz toldher.
"I've never seen The Terminator," Sam said. "I've heard it's good–and very gory."
"Actually, it's a love story," Donna said, quite seriously. "But it is violent, and Buzz will have to fast-forward through one racy scene for me. I'm in."
Buzz nodded.
"Okay, Buzz. I'm in. The Terminator," Sam said.
Sam found himself surprised he wanted to stay–because he knew it was more to spend time withDonna and Buzz than to see the movie. I'll just drag myself out of bed early, he told himself.
3
They were lounging on the couch. Two-thirds of the movie was over.
"This is the love story part," Donna whispered to Sam. "See, he came across time to rescue her. To be with her. He's suffering for her. Like a knight in shining armor."
"Yes," Sam whispered. "It is a love story."
Buzz didn't take hiseyes off the screen. He didn't like it when others talked during movies.
4
In New Jersey, Mark Johnson wasn't watching a movie. He was asleep in the spare bedroom of a friend from the Bureau, dreaming of his wife…
…in the dream, she was holding on to him, her hands around his waist, as their Sea-Doo screamed