Sun Dec 28, 2008 10:16 AM CST : A Matter of Sex
And Elaine is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. Oh, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the scumballs!
And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to care about me, a person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl, romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a warranty! I'll take their warranty and stick it....
"Roger," Elaine says aloud.
"What?" says Roger, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have said ... Oh, I feel so...." She breaks down sobbing.
"What?" says Roger.
"I'm such a fool," Elaine sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight; I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Roger.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine asks.
"No!" says Roger. He's glad he finally knows the correct answer.
"It's just that ... that ... I need some more time," Elaine says.
There is a long pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally, he comes up with one that he thinks might work.
"Yes," he says.
Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand. "Oh Roger, do you really feel that way?" she asks.
"What way?" asks Roger.
"That way, about time," says Elaine.
"Oh," says Roger. "Yes."
Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.
"Thank you, Roger," she says.
"Thank you," says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn. Roger, in the meantime, gets back to his place, opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure that there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Roger's policy regarding world hunger.)
The next day, Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.
Meanwhile, Roger, while playing squash one day with Elaine's brother, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Bill, did Elaine ever own a horse?"