Free Joshua Then and Now by Mordecai Richler Page B

act of defiance. What he did, catching sight of Joshua, was to twirl Pauline around so that she could receive, startled, the full benefit of his grim, disapproving face.
    Impulsively, Joshua walked around to the other side of the bar and clicked off the cassette player. Silence. Consternation. Rabbi Shapiro has pronounced. No more cakes, no more ale.
    Pauline, never one to be caught off balance in any social situation, strode into his arms, hugged him, and said, “I knew you’d come to pick me up.”
    Moist hair stuck to the back of her neck. “I began to worry once the power went,” he said.
    Kevin joined them, his smile revealing dimples Joshua had not noticed before. “Now that you’ve finally honored us with your presence,” he said, “I’m not going to let you go until you sign that book for me.”
    Joshua eased Pauline back from the bar so that there was nobody between him and Kevin. Remember: stick, stick, and away you go. “Iwas just saying to Pauline that you not only play boy’s –” it nearly came out “goy’s” – “games surpassingly well, but you also dance divinely.”
    “Joshua, please.”
    Jane Trimble sashayed up to the bar, glistening with excitement. Tim Hickey, the McTeers, and a few more, equally sodden, were now also drawn to the bar, anticipating an incident. Only Dickie Abbott, whom Joshua liked, was intent on keeping the peace. “Good to see you, Joshua,” he said.
    But Joshua ignored him. He picked off a strand of honey-colored hair from Kevin’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “now I know where I’ve seen you before. Didn’t you model underwear for
Esquire’s
nineteen-fifty-five back-to-college issue?”
    “Oh, shit, let’s go home.”
    “My wife wants to go home, but I haven’t finished my drink yet.”
    “That wasn’t me,” Kevin said, seemingly not the least offended, “but you could have seen me in
Thunderball
. You know, the Bond film.”
    “Holy cow. Were you really in that?”
    “I was one of the scuba divers.”
    “There is absolutely no reason for you to be angry,” Pauline said, thrusting herself against him.
    “I’m not angry.”
    “We’re going to be friends,” Kevin said reassuringly.
    Trimble, disgusted, retreated from the bar, but not Jane. The rain had settled into a soft, steady drizzle. First one couple and then another moved off. Maybe there wasn’t going to be a fight after all. “Don’t tell me the party’s ending just when I get here,” Joshua complained.
    “It’s not ending,” Jane said, her voice soft and sympathetic, “we were
just
waiting for the rain to ease up before going in for a skinny-dip.”
    Joshua went rigid. “My wife,” he said, “doesn’t skinny-dip with anybody but me.”
    “Would you please stop calling me ‘my wife.’ I do have a name.”
    “I beg your pardon. Mrs. Shapiro doesn’t skinny-dip with anybody but me.”
    “It’s just something we used to do together when we were kids,” Kevin said. “It’s innocent, it doesn’t mean a thing.”
    Remembering what his father had taught him about bar brawls, Joshua didn’t intend to jab, he was going to let go a short fast one. But it was Pauline’s face. Weaker. The eyes inclined to waver. But her face. He couldn’t bring himself to strike it.
    “You’re looking at one of your admirers,” Kevin was pleading, his smile enchanting. “Really you are. She wanted to leave long ago. I kept her here.”
    “We’re leaving right now,” Pauline said, taking his arm.
    They drove in silence until they reached the main road.
    “Would you have gone skinny-dipping with them if I hadn’t turned up?”
    “When we were kids, Kevin and I used to be tossed into the same bathtub here every night.”
    “But you’re not kids any more, and you haven’t answered my question.”
    “No, I guess not.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you wouldn’t have liked it, I’m forty-two years old, I’ve had three kids, and my breasts aren’t what they once were.”
    “I