The silence between them stretched and took on a life of its own. He sat, watching the smoke rise from the cigarette in the ashtray, the ash lengthening. Turned the glass slowly between his fingers, the metallic tinks and scrapes from the other end of the bar vague in his ears. Studied his reflection in the mirror behind the bar close and long.

"Do you think you're letting this get just a little bit beyond you?" Jerry said, wiping, not looking up.

"Let's talk about it another time."

Pursing his lips, Jerry checked his watch.

Nodding, he took the last of his drink, put the glass down, and dug in his pockets.

"In many ways, I think I'm finally getting my fingers around it. Anyway," he said, "you got any new jokes tonight? I could use a good one." He put two bills on the bar.

Jerry came over and flicked up the money, his eyes thin, dancing.

"There was this couple, about to get married," he said folding the money and putting it in his pocket, "On the way to the wedding they were both killed in separate car accidents." He rang up no sale on the cash register, and turned the knob to final the day, telling the joke from the mirror as he worked.

"The next thing they know they are standing at the Pearly Gates, and the guy says to Saint Peter, 'You know, man, we were about to be married when we were killed, on our way to the wedding. I gotta ask you, can we get married up here?'

"Saint Peter says, 'You know, that's a good question, nobody's ever asked that before. Let me go and find out, I'll be right back.'

"So they sit down on the bench and Saint Peter goes away. He's gone for a day. Then another. Then a week goes by, and a month. Still they wait.

"Six months go by and finally Saint Peter comes back, rubbing his hands together. 'Good news,' he says, 'it's all set; we can start the ceremony immediately.'

"'Wait a minute,' says the guy, 'while you've been gone we've been thinking about this. Half of the marriages down on earth don't last, and even the ones that do last only last fifty or sixty years. And we'll be here a lot longer than that. ...so we were wondering, if we ever wanted to, will it be possible to get a divorce?'

"Saint Peter looks at him and says, 'It took me six months to find a priest and now you want me to find you a lawyer ???'"

Looking at each other they put their coats on, sleeves flapping. Silently they gathered their things and walked out through the glass door. Jerry locked the door behind him and they walked together down the sidewalk.

They reached the corner and, nodding to each other, turned -- one north, the other south, coats flapping in the wind.



14A »