"I thought so," Jacky said. She was surprisingly sympathetic for someone who had been throwing wine glasses at him the last time he'd seen her.
"How's your love life?"
"Improving," Jacky said. "I found a real nice guy. He works on Capitol
Hill, actually."
"I'm glad," Oliver said. "You look mellower."
"I've been working my way through some of this sexual stuff," she said. "I'm not so different. I mean—I still like my equipment." Oliver put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "But it's not so important. There are other kinds of bonds." She paused. "I think maybe you have some work to do in that area. But—leave it in the bedroom, Oliver." They walked on.
"I'm trying," he said.
"I think you have a little dom in you," Jacky said. Oliver realized that he was having a talk that actually meant something. He filled with gratitude.
"I love you," he said. "I can't live with you, but I love you." They reached her car.
"Thank you," she said. "That's sweet." She got in the car, started it, and rolled down her window. Oliver put both hands on the window and leaned over. "Be true," she said. "That's the main thing." He straightened.
"Take care," he said. He didn't kiss her; his mind was going too fast.
Be true? To what? He fought for understanding.