Free Too Easy by Bruce Deitrick Price Page B

well, that’s not me . . . is it? Robert stares at the grim landscape of the Bronx. His train’s about fifteen minutes from Grand Central. He fidgets, says uneasily, “I see what you mean.”
    Another day of fires and murders, corruption and urban collapse, coming up. Another day of being in the same building with Kathy. Another day of deciding that this is the day—he’ll get his thoughts together, go home and tell Anne the truth. Calmly and honorably. And she’ll understand. And, well then, they’ll get divorced.
    â€œYou vote for him,” the man wants to know.
    â€œYeah, I did.”
    â€œGlad?”
    â€œIt was a tough election. To choose, I mean.”
    â€œThat’s the truth. You think the guy’s maybe a little off? There’s something . . . that W. C. Fields look. . . .” The man shrugs, sees Robert staring out the window, does the same. “Jesus, look at this . . . wasteland.”
    Robert nods. Yeah, this is the day, he decides. I’m going to do it tonight. It’s inevitable anyway and, uh, I know it’s right. And given what’s going on, it’s the only fair thing to do. I mean, come on, the dishonesty is what upsets me. The deception. The . . . hypocrisy? No, that’s not it. It’s not a moral matter, not for me. It’s between me and Anne. We’ve always told each other the truth. We have to keep doing that. She expects it. She wants it. It’s a personal matter. I owe her this. And she owes me her understanding. She’ll give me that. Nobody asks for something like this to happen. Well, I didn’t. I didn’t go looking. It found me. Really, you can walk down the street and a safe falls on you. Or you see something in the gutter, and it’s a winning lottery ticket. There it is, you have to pick it up. You don’t, you’re a fool. I mean, I’m not sure about God running around giving people gifts. But this is as close to that as it gets. A higher love.
    Kathy is just extraordinary. I think about her, I get goose bumps, or a hard-on. Something, bang, visceral, right from the center. But sex and all that aside, Kathy is really an exceptional person. Well, so is Anne. But you take all the qualities together, Kathy is amazing. And she’s not complacent, not sitting on a pat hand. I really like that. The feeling I get, I’ve got to keep chugging if I want to keep up. “VP Marketing,” she says. “Five years. Count on it.” Wow. . . .
    â€œWhat do you do?” the man asks.
    â€œEditor at New York News.”
    â€œLive in Westchester?”
    â€œYes.”
    The man smirks. “They should make all you people live in Manhattan. Damned limousine liberals are killing the place. Pushing all the bullshit for everybody else to live with, then they go back to Scarsdale.”
    Roberts stares at him. “My wife works in White Plains. It was sort of a compromise.”
    â€œUmmmm?”
    â€œHey, I’d like to live in Manhattan.” Robert smiles. “Maybe I will be. Besides, I’m not a limousine liberal. I report the news as straight as I can. It’s an honorable profession.”
    â€œYeah? Well, alright. You sound pretty serious about it.”
    â€œYeah,” Robert snaps. “I’m serious.” He almost adds, Now leave me alone, go bother someone else, you pompous jerk. I’m serious, alright. . . . Seriously over my head . . . seriously ready to tell Anne . . . seriously hooked, line and sinker.
    The train’s in the tunnel under Park Avenue. People standing up to put on their coats.
    Robert thinks about Anne and how comfortable they’ve always been with each other. Yes, that’s it. Comfortable. We’re best friends. That’s what’s going to make this work. We’ve always wanted what’s best for the other. I’ll explain to