"It was dusk on board of the Pacific Princess. Michael sat in a deck chair, smoking a joint and watching the gentle, seductive curve of the beach at Acapulco. The air was warm, and the sky was exactly the color it should have been.
Even before he got stoned.
"Mouse?" It was Mary Ann. Dressed for a date.
"Hi," said Michael.
"I've looked all over for you."
"I'se heah, Miz Schalett."
She pulled up a deck chair and sat on the edge of it. "Are you all right, Mouse?"
He nodded. "I'm always all right."
"You weren't at dinner."
He patted his stomach. "Chubbette."
"Burke and I thought you might... We'd really like it if you came into town with us tonight. Somebody told us about this place called BabyO's."
"Thanks. I don't think I'm up for it that tonight."
"It's a disco."
"Maybe tomorrow, O.K.?"
She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "Are you sure?"
He nodded as her hand slid down the side of his face. His cheek was wet. She sat with him for almost a minute, holding his hand, saying nothing.
"You better go," he finally said. "I'm O.K."
"You're too hard on yourself, Mouse."
He shrugged. "If I don't do it, who will?"
"Mouse, you're the most wonderful-"
"I know, Mary Ann. I know I'm a nice guy. I really do. I know that you love me. I know that old ladies love me and my mother and dogs and cats... and every goddamn person I meet except someone who'll commit himself to... Please, don't get me started."
"Mouse, I wish you could-"
"The hell of it is, I know the answer. The answer is that you never, ever, rely on another person for your peace of mind. If you do, you're screwd but good. Not right away, maybe, but sooner or later. You have to - I don't know - you have to learn to live with yourself. You have to learn to turn back your own sheets and set a table for one without feeling pathetic. You have to be strong and confident and pleased with yourself and never give the slightest impression that you can't hack it without that certain goddamn someone. You have to fake the hell out of it."
"You aren't faking it, Mouse. You are strong."
"I'm tired of it. I'm sick of picking up the pieces and marching bravely onward. I want things to work out just once." He rubbed the corner of his eye, smiled suddenly, and shrugged. "I wanna do a Salem commercial with a Marlboro Man."
Mary Ann squeezed his hand. "We're all that way, Mouse."
"I know, but it works out for some people."
"It'll work out for you."
"No, it won't."
"Mouse..."
"I want it too badly, Mary Ann. Any idiot can see that. When you want it too badly, no one wants you. No one is attracted to that... desperation."
He turned away from her, wiping his eyes.
"Christ!" he said softly, reaching for her hand again. "Look at that sky, will you?"
After Mary Ann and Burke left, Michael spent half an hour in his stateroom reading another chapter of the Isherwood book, then wandered out onto the deck again.
The lights of the city blinked at him beguilingly.
But why should I? he wondered. Why should I put my heart through the wringer again? Who could I find that would possibly matter on a two-day stay in an unfamiliar foreign city?
And should I wear the pink or the green Lacoste?
