He stood with her on the corner outside the taproom. He saw the little sport car parked across the street. It was clean and shiny, and the moonlight seemed to give it a silvery gleam. It glimmered like a jewel against the shabby background of shacks and tenements. He thought, It don’t belong here, it just don’t fit in with the picture.
He looked at Loretta. She was waiting for him to say something. He swallowed hard and mumbled, “Wanna go for a walk?”
“Let’s use the car.”
They crossed the street and climbed into the MG. She started the engine. He leaned back in the seat and tried to make himself comfortable. He felt very uncomfortable and it had nothing to do with the seating arrangement. She saw him squirming and she said, “It’s such a tiny car. There isn’t much room.”
“It’s all right,” he said. But it wasn’t all right. He told himself he didn’t belong in the car. He wanted to open the door and get out. He wondered why he couldn’t get out.
The car was moving. He said, “Where we going?”
“Any place you’d like. Would you care to ride uptown?”
He shook his head abruptly.
“Why not?” she asked.
He didn’t have an answer. He had his arms folded and he was staring straight ahead.