Fatal 1 KATE JAMESON AND BETH TULLY walked west at the bayside edge of Crissy Field. The lines of the Golden Gate Bridge materialized in haphazard fashion through the fog in front of them, but neither paid much attention. This was a view they encountered nearly every time they walked together, and they usually tried to do that once a week, so none of it really registered--not the choppy gray-green bay sloshing to their right, the bridge looming ahead, the kite-boarders, the sailboats, the joggers passing by--all of it swathed in the ubiquitous, wispy fog. They''d been roommates twenty years before at the University of San Francisco and though their lives had taken different turns, they were still close friends who rarely ran out of things to talk about. The walk, from Ghirardelli Square to the bridge and back, took them about an hour, and usually the first half of that got devoted to discussing their offspring--Kate''s two and Beth''s one, all teenagers. There was never a dearth of material. When they finally arrived at the bridge and turned around, they''d usually chitchatted enough about les enfants. They had several mutual acquaintances, mostly from the old days, and also some recurring personalities from the greater worlds of the kids'' schools or sports teams or their domestic lives, and the normal walk back to where they''d begun was all gossip--laughter, agreement, connection.
But today, not even halfway to the bridge, Beth said, "And so finally there was Ginny"--her seventeen-year-old--"sitting inside the refrigerator with a pork chop on her knee." Getting no response, she kept walking for a few more steps and then stopped mid-stride. "Earth to Kate. Come in, please." "What? I''m sorry. What were you saying?" "Well, the last minute or so I was just making stuff up, wondering if you''d notice. Which I have to say you didn''t. Are you all right?" "Sure.
" She hesitated. "I think so." "But something ." "No. It''s nothing." "That old elusive nothing." "Maybe. Should we keep walking?" "Unless you want to head back.
" "No. I''m good. I''m sorry. Let''s keep going." Falling in step together, they covered a couple of hundred yards in silence before Beth reached over and touched the sleeve of Kate''s workout jacket. "You can tell me, you know," she said. "Whatever it is." "I know.
But that''s what I''m saying, or not saying. It really isn''t anything. At least not yet." She shook her head, once, emphatically. "It shouldn''t ever be anything." "That sounds ominous enough." Beth paused, then said, "Tell me, please, it''s not Ron." Kate reacted almost as if she''d been stung.
"No! No no no. Ron''s great. He''s always great. It''s not him." "But it''s somebody? Something?" A nod. "It''s something." They had come up beside a bench that bordered the path, and Kate stopped, hands deep in her pockets. "Maybe we could sit a minute.
" "Sure." They both sat and Beth waited. Kate finally started. "I don''t know what happened, exactly. We went over to Ron''s partner''s house for dinner on Saturday. Do you know Geoff and Bina Cooke? No? Well, it doesn''t matter. It wasn''t them. But there was another couple there we didn''t know.
Nice people. Kind of normal. Like us, really, I mean like me and Ron. Lawyer husband and sweet wife, two kids, house payments, all of the above." "Okay. And?" "And so we had this nice dinner and sat around talking afterwards, finishing our wine the way people do, you know. Nothing groundbreaking, just relaxed and easy. Then we all said good night and went home.
" A rogue gust of wind swept by them, trailing a small cloud of dust and debris. When it had passed, Beth turned to her friend. "Did I miss something?" "I know. Right? I told you nothing happened." "Except whatever it was seems to have your attention in a major way." Kate pushed her hands more deeply into her jacket pockets. "Ron and I came home and went to bed, and an hour later I was in the living room, wrapped up in a comforter, wide awake. I couldn''t get the idea out of my head that I was going to have to have sex with this guy.
I mean, it was right there, large, like this massive . I don''t know, need. I couldn''t get rid of it, and I''ve been living with it ever since. It''s like the idea is totally consuming me. I can''t think of anything else. It''s making me a crazy person." "Maybe you''re just horny, girlfriend." Kate shook her head.
"It''s nothing to do with horny. Ron and I have been . well, three times in the past week. I promise you that''s not the problem." "Did something happen between the two of you--you and this guy--at the dinner?" "No. Nothing. That''s the thing. We barely talked to each other.
There wasn''t really even any reason that I would have noticed him, or him me. He''s no better looking than Ron, and his wife is kind of cute." "Well, you''re a little more than kind of cute, Kate. I''m sure he noticed you." "Okay, maybe. But basically he''s just another guy. A really normal, average guy who I''ve just gotten fixated on." She turned on the bench, put her hand out on Beth''s arm.
"And don''t think I don''t realize how ridiculous this is." "You haven''t done anything, have you? With him?" "No. God no. I couldn''t . I mean, not that I ever would. It would kill Ron and mess up the kids'' lives. I know that, of course. I couldn''t let that happen.
I probably shouldn''t even have told you, but I don''t know what to do here. I''ve never had anything like this happen before, not since I''ve been married anyway. I love Ron. I really do. And I don''t know anything about this guy. I wasn''t really even consciously aware of him. But then, somehow, after we got home, the idea was just there and it was ." She brought her hands up to her forehead, then brought them back through her hair.
"I don''t know what it was. Or is." "Well, I do, Kate, truly. It''s dumb and dangerous." "I know. That''s probably why I''m telling you. Because I want to hear you say that." "Okay.
I''ve told you," Beth said. "And do you hear me?" "I do." "Good. Because I''m dead serious here, Kate. This is nothing to play around with. A little fantasy, maybe, okay. But take it out on Ron if you''ve got to do something about it." "That''s good advice.
" "Damn straight it is. We''re not in high school anymore. Acting on this is the kind of thing that ruins lives." "I got it. Really. You''ve convinced me. I''m not going to do anything about it. Which will be easy, since I don''t even know the guy''s last name or how to get in touch with him.
" "Good. Keep it that way." "I will." "Promise?" "Swear to God." Kate made a sign over her chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Two days later, Thursday, Kate went out grocery shopping in the morning while Carmen was cleaning the house. On the way back, she found a parking spot in front of a coffee shop on Fillmore around the corner from her home on Washington Street.
Killing time, anything to keep her brain away from its ongoing preoccupation with Peter, she ordered an espresso and a croissant, and then came back outside. The sun had broken through the clouds and it was warm for a jacket, so she shrugged out of it and hung it over the back of her chair, then sat at one of the sidewalk tables. Catching a quick glimpse of herself in the coffee shop''s window, she felt a small jolt of satisfaction. The reaction surprised her, since she did not usually think of herself as beautiful. She was wearing her favorite old jeans, hiking boots, and a high-necked, ribbed white sweater that flattered both her ample bosom and her thin waist. Her glistening dark hair was just short of shoulder length and around her neck gleamed a gold chain necklace that held a kachina charm from Santa Fe that Ron had given her two months ago for her forty-fifth birthday. Now she cast another glance at the window, looking for some sign of the low-voltage electricity that had been her constant companion since the weekend, since that moment she''d been putting away the dishes at Geoff and Bina''s and a pair of hands--Peter''s hands--had gently but firmly settled on her shoulders from behind and most politely moved her to one side. "Excuse me.
Just need a dish towel. Sorry." Carmen had finished up with the cleaning and gone home. No one else was around. After sitting at her kitchen counter as ten minutes slowly ticked by on the wall clock, Kate took out her cell phone, pushed her Contacts button, and brought up the Cookes. But seeing their name printed out on her screen seemed somehow irreversible, and she returned the cell phone to her purse. "Come on," she said aloud, to no one. "Really?" With an air of impatience, brushing her hair back off her forehead, she abruptly stood up and crossed to where they had their landline telephone at the end of the hallway.
Picking up the receiver, she listened to the dial tone for a few seconds, then--before she could change her mind again--she quickly punched in the numbers. Bina picked up on the first ring. "Hello."