Romantic Trapezoid. Victor L. Cahn

      “Dave—”

      “Because you and I have different plans—”

      “Wait a minute!”

      Dave breathed deeply. “Yes?”

      “I quoted you the other day.”

      Dave turned to her. “When?”

      “Someone at the office said something about cinematography, and I walked right up and announced that the two men who did more to develop that art were Greg Toland and James Wong Howe. Shut ’em right up.”

      “Terrific.”

      “I gave you credit, too,” said Melissa. “Told them all about you. Even said you might win a fellowship to teach in Boston next year.”

      Dave permitted himself a playful smile. “Forget ‘might.’”

      “Huh?”

      He paused dramatically. “I got it.”

      “The fellowship?”

      “Hm-mm.”

      “You didn’t tell me!”

      “It was my surprise for the night.”

      “Oh, Dave. I am so proud of you!” As she leaped and hugged him, Dave instinctively hugged back. Then she kissed him, and he was lost in her lips.

      A second later, she broke away. “Don’t.”

      “Why not?”

      With a slump of her shoulders, Melissa walked away. “I always figured we’d take on Boston together.”

      “You’d come with me?”

      “For a little while.”

      “You never said anything.”

      “That was my surprise. But now . . .” She bowed her head.

      Dave hurried to her. “All they want is one course a semester. We can go back and forth to New York.”

      She took his hand. “It sounds great.” Then she dropped it. “But now . . . it’s not a good idea.”

      “Why?”

      Dave was surprised to hear himself pleading.

      “You’re leaving today, and that’s it. This is the last time we should talk about your work. Or mine. The last time we should even think about anything involving the two of us . . .” As her voice trailed off, she walked away. Dave followed. “But this doesn’t have to be the last time.”

      “Yes, it does.”

      “No, it doesn’t—”

      “We have to break it off.”

      “Why?”

      “Because that’s the best way.”

      “But—”

      “We have to end it right now.”

      “I don’t want to be heartless—”

      “And neither do I.”

      “I mean, we still have feelings for each other—”

      “And we always will.”

      She turned directly to him, and took his face in her hands. She drew closer, shut her eyes, and put her lips right next to his. He could feel her breath, the panting that seemed to be more intense than ever.

      Then she broke away. “But this way there are no recriminations. No painful good-byes—”

      “Wait a minute!”

      She turned to him. “Promise me just one thing.”

      “Anything.”

      “That we won’t argue about splitting up our things.”

      This request was not the one Dave expected. “We’ll work everything out. I give you my word.”

      “Because so many couples fight about that.”

      “I know.”

      “And I don’t want to be like them.”

      “We won’t. I promise.”

      “Thank you.” She sighed. “It’s all mine, right?”

      “Huh?”

      ”Everything we have is mine.”

      Dave stared. “It is?”

      “Well, isn’t it?”

      She walked to the kitchen, and Dave followed.

      “I thought I’d take what I came with,” he said.

      “If you want.”

      “I mean, my clothes and things.”

      “Of course.” She poured a fresh glass of water.

      “Plus the books and CDs I bought.”

      “That’s fair.” She sipped the water. “Which books and CDs?”

      Dave struggled to maintain equilibrium. He understood that had no desire to leave, but somehow he had blundered, or been maneuvered, into choosing what trivial possessions he was about to take on this undesirable excursion. “Some film material, I suppose. And the Mahler symphonies . . .”

      “Anything.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Except the Mahler symphonies.”

      “Huh?”

      “I’ve become very attached to them.”

      “You said they put you to sleep.”

      “Not recently.” Melissa began to stroll. “They’re very beautiful.”

      Dave trailed awkwardly. “I’ve been telling you that—”

      “And they’ll always remind me of you.”

      She put her hand to his cheek. He was about to take that hand in his when she walked away. “And about the rent,” she said.

      This shift threw Dave further off kilter. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay my share for the next month.”

      “I was going to tell you to skip it.”

      “No, no. Tell me how much, and I’ll give you a check before I leave.”

      “It’s not necessary.”

      “Whatever amount you say.”

      “Ten-fifty-seven fifty.”

      Dave swallowed. “I thought it was nine-eighty-some-thing.”

      “Fuel’s going up.”

      “I heard it was going down.”

      “Not what the doorman told me.”

      “How does he know—”

      “Dave, those guys know everything!” Melissa stretched out on the sofa. “They talk to the super and the owner. And by the way, there is one guy who’ll be sorry to see you go.”

      “Who?”

      “Joe.”

      “Joe who?”

      “Joe the doorman! He loves to talk movies with you. Used to be an actor, you know.”

      “So he’s told me. And told me. And told me—”

      “Always reminds me how lucky I am to have you around. Of course, I didn’t need anyone to say that—”

      “I know. Another in your ever-expanding circle of admirers.”

      “He’s