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mother of all questions— why? Would there be a satisfactory answer?
    “Well, they’re both good-looking people,” he said.
    “Yes, they are,” I agreed.
    I must have sounded very dejected because he immediately responded,
    “Not that we’re not, too. You’re a beautiful woman, Audrey, and I don’t understand why anyone would ever jeopardize their marriage with you.” It was sweet, and I appreciated the sentiment, but while I was not awful to look at, there was certainly no comparison to Natalie.
    Natalie was a blonde, blue-eyed goddess, commanding admiration every time she walked into a room. And my husband was very handsome. Different from Harvey, however. Greg’s looks stemmed from his perfectly chiseled face, perfect jet-black hair that sometimes fell on his face, and eyes that could knock any girl on her behind. Harvey had an undeniable masculine strength to him to add to his good looks. In a different time and place, I could picture him as a lumberjack. The idea of him swinging an axe almost made me laugh.
    Instead, I said, “Well, you’re not too bad yourself, mister, so I’m not sure. The experience of having someone new? Not the same person you go to bed with and wake up next to day after day.”
    “Yeah, except your husband is not that exciting,” he said, taking a sip of the whiskey in front of him.
    “He is, in his own way.” Why was I defending him?
    “I was kidding. I’m sure his stories about his trip to Asia are all the more fascinating after you’ve heard them twenty times,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. I laughed, knowing that Harvey must have been holding animosity towards Greg, even if he hadn’t shown it up to that point. And, yes, Greg brought up Asia a lot.
    “Are you going to punch my husband?” I asked. When he didn’t answer I then asked, wide-eyed, “You’re not going to kill him, are you? Or anyone?” I never heard Natalie talk about Harvey as being the jealous type, but what if...
    “No. No killing, no punching. Possibly a wall or two, but then again I’ve already done that.” He showed me his fist, and I saw that his knuckles were red and raw.
    I told him my own feelings, glad I could discuss this with someone. “I’m not really angry— more like hurt, but I believe I’m putting it off somehow. It’s as if I’m waiting for the proof from this PI until I can experience the extent of my emotions about all of this.” I sipped from the delicious margarita, and the effect of the alcohol was instant. It must have been because I hardly ever drink. “What will you do?” I asked, knowing my own fate— return to my hometown.
    “Not sure. I think about whether I can forgive her if that’s what she wants, but then I want to punch another wall. I’ll just have to wait until Thursday when Gus comes back to report on what happened.”
    After a while we said goodbye, and I told Harvey to go on ahead and leave while I went to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, not having seen a tipsy Audrey in a long time and rather enjoying it. Then the room appeared to be tilting. Is this what one margarita does to me? I’m drunk , I told myself. Now how will I get home? I can just sit at the bar and drink water until I’m fine to drive, I reasoned. After thinking on it for several minutes, I decided to take a stroll in the park across the street and clear my head.
    “You OK?” said a voice behind me as I stepped out of the bathroom. Startled, I yelled and saw it was Harvey, who then put his hands over his ears. I laughed, giggling really, and found that I couldn’t stop. He ushered me outside while people stopped eating to watch us leave.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes, and then I started laughing again when I saw the amused look on his face.
    “You’re a cheap drunk,” he said matter-of-factly, and I nodded my head.
    “Why are you still here?” I asked.
    “Well when you said you were going to the bathroom, I saw you turn around and