"O.K.," Oliver said. "I'll try. I'd hug you but I think something would catch fire."
"Burning already," she said, trying to smile. Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His feet felt like they were in cement. He dragged them up, one after the other, and left.
He finished a small project but couldn't bring himself to start the next one. He drove into Portland without saying goodbye to Suzanne. This wasn't going to be easy, he thought. He went to Gritty's for party kegs. They brewed ale downstairs and pumped it directly from the bar. He didn't know how many people would come to the housewarming—some would rather drink wine or the hard stuff. Five gallons of ale should be enough. He bought six, to be on the safe side.
He had lunch in Deweys, hoping to calm down. But the more he thought about Suzanne, the more confused he got. Mark came in and Oliver asked him, "What do you do when you've got a strong attraction going that isn't—appropriate?"
"You're asking me?"
"Well," Oliver said, "just an opinion."
"What does she look like?"
"Nice looking. Nothing unusual. My size. Great body." Oliver thought. "I guess what's unusual about her is how connected she is. I mean, her body is in her face. She walks the way she feels. She's all one piece."
"It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that zing. " Mark said. "Ellington."
"Hmmm," Oliver said.