Free Drybread: A Novel by Owen Marshall Page A

Theo stood
by them briefly and talked. They also had been on the
Coast for several days. She introduced him without detail,
and the guy said that, as a lawyer, he had a bit to do with
forestry and mining issues. He would be interested to read
Theo's articles. Theo stood, and they sat, which made a
demarcation plain between them. She was eating more
substantially than he remembered. How many times he'd
sat beside her to constitute a couple, and they had talked
to someone outside that partnership, and now he was the
one excluded, passing by.
    It was almost a physical dislocation, worst when Theo
left them. To walk to his car, to drive away without waving,
and see them talking together, caused a mixture of sadness
and anger. Logic is powerless against habitual things, and
failure is debilitating. Maybe she told the floppy-haired
guy a bit more about Theo. He's my ex, she might say. It
didn't work out. He's never fully grown up in some ways.
    Maybe they had more personal things to talk about. Theo
and Stella had needed to part; they had agreed to part,
but life seeks continuity, and an end to love's endeavour is
always painful.

9
    Nicholas and Theo went to a Thai restaurant together once
a week or so if it suited. Nicholas said Thai cooking had less
sodium something or other than Chinese cooking did. The
chemistry of the meal didn't interest Theo. What he did like
was that the Thai place was BYO, with a moderate corkage
charge. Theo knew that journalists have a reputation for
meanness, but being ripped off went against his professional
pride. At Thai Hai Nicholas and Theo could bring a decent
cab merlot, and not have to pay $35.
    Nicholas was forty-six. Theo had been to most birthdays
he'd had in the last decade or so, several of them in the
Thai Hai where they were sitting, a couple of the earlier
ones at his home when Nicholas was still with Trish. For
some years he taught journalism at the university, but had
then come back to the paper. He said he'd given up the
varsity work because of the temptation of young women
there, the disclosure of the loose tops as they bent over
their notes, their willingness to be educated. Too many
tar-babies, he'd say: far too much entanglement. The real
reason was that he was by disposition a journalist, not a
teacher, and couldn't be happy without the investigative
challenge. For the same reason, Nicholas had turned down
offers of promotion. He was iconoclastic, and reluctant
to have any responsibility for other people. His talent
and seniority were recognised by the title of deputy chief
reporter, but the leadership he gave was by way of his
stories, not administration or pastoral care.
    Nicholas seemed to wish he was doing the Maine-King
story. 'What does she look like?' he said.
    'I've told you.'
    'You're not screwing her, are you?' he said. 'Keep yourself
clear of that while you handle the story. Women are tarbabies,
you know that.' The tables were close together in
Thai Hai, and at his enquiry a small, overdressed woman
stared across at them. It seemed to Theo a warning, rather
than embarrassment expressed, but Nicholas lifted his
porcelain soup spoon in salute to her and went on. 'You
won't be able to handle it, you know, mixing work and your
sex life. And anyway, you've got Melanie to consider.'
    'We're friends.'
    'Yes, but you're screwing her, aren't you?'
    'Oh, shut up about it,' Theo said. The small woman
looked at him, almost approvingly he thought.
    Nicholas was both right and wrong about Melanie,
and Theo wasn't going to explain that over a meal at the
Thai Hai. Melanie and he were friends, and because they
were both journalists, they could unload on each other
knowing they would be understood. They did make love,
but not often, and although on those occasions she was an
active participant, Theo knew it was more for his sake than
any great need she felt. It was the quid pro quo of such
friendships, though never talked about as such.
    'Anyway,' said Nicholas, 'tell me about this new