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. You never know, Claire.Looking at a filing cabinet sounds like apretty flimsy excuse to have cocktails. Shut up, I say with a groan. She s looking to save a buck on aservice call. But it could be something else. Elizabeth twists her gold necklacearound her index finger and starts humming a sappy wedding song. Stop it.I don t even think she s gay. Oh, pooh.These days, you can t tell by looking. How can you tell? I m not sure, but I don t think it s by looking. She has a point.In our younger years, my lover and I weren t aneasy peg.We enjoyed being feminine even when we threw on ourcoveralls and put up the drywall in our first house.But when two womenreach thirty-five and have lived together almost half their lives, itdoesn t matter how much makeup they wear or how often they get theirnails done.Chances are there s something else going on.Some of the single ones are harder to figure, though.There are allkinds of reasons a thirty-something woman might live alone.Maybeshe s divorced or separated, or maybe she just likes her independence,but I have no idea if Rebecca Greenway lives alone.I don t even knowwhere she lives. 48A thought has been bugging me for the past few hours, anundeveloped idea that seems to be coming together.Since I ve beensingle, I ve come in contact with lots of sexy straight women, charmingwomen with beautiful faces and lovely bodies, but I ve never had thekind of adolescent crush I seem to have on Rebecca.Do I suspect thatshe might be gay? Have I picked her up on my gaydar screen butconvinced myself that she s off limits as a means of keeping mydistance?I close my eyes and snuggle down into the sofa. I don t know howto tell about women either.I m out of practice. Elizabeth s voice flows over me, a soft, breathy lullaby. It s timeyou got back into practice. I open my eyes a little and see her sitting there, brows knittedtogether, mouth turned down at the corners.We should drop thisconversation, but I go on. I ve always been with someone.I don t knowanything about how to approach a woman. Does she know what happened? No, and I m not telling her. She should know, Claire, especially if she s interested in morethan a filing cabinet. If by some crazy chance she is interested in me, I still don t wanther to know. I raise my hand, telling Elizabeth to drop it. Why not? I m not the only person in the world who s gone through this kindof thing.It happens every day to all kinds of people.If I told her, itwould make me sound like an even bigger loser than I really am. Elizabeth looks hard at me. Telling the truth doesn t make you aloser. Truth? Elizabeth doesn t know the truth from axle grease.I m theonly one who knows everything, right down to the real reason I havethis God-forsaken scar on the back of my hand.Or to be more precise,the real reason I have this God-forsaken scar on the back of my fist.ButI m not telling.If it eats a hole right though my guts, I won t tell.Elizabeth seems to be thinking out loud. I m not saying there sanything wrong with being single.But there s nothing wrong with beingsocial, either.Humans are social animals. I m social, I protest. I ve got you and Tonya, and I get all theinteraction at work I can handle. It s not the same. I m not up to starting over.Anyway, who d want an oldworkaholic has-been like me? 49 You act like you re a hundred years old.You had one sweetbeginning, and you re plenty young enough. That first sweet beginning was followed by one hell of a sourending. I blink back tears.My sobs will come later in the evening,when only Jitterbug can hear. So you ll have another sweet beginning.I know how hard it mustbe on you to come home to this empty house every day.I miss her beinghere, too, but your life isn t over, Claire [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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. You never know, Claire.Looking at a filing cabinet sounds like apretty flimsy excuse to have cocktails. Shut up, I say with a groan. She s looking to save a buck on aservice call. But it could be something else. Elizabeth twists her gold necklacearound her index finger and starts humming a sappy wedding song. Stop it.I don t even think she s gay. Oh, pooh.These days, you can t tell by looking. How can you tell? I m not sure, but I don t think it s by looking. She has a point.In our younger years, my lover and I weren t aneasy peg.We enjoyed being feminine even when we threw on ourcoveralls and put up the drywall in our first house.But when two womenreach thirty-five and have lived together almost half their lives, itdoesn t matter how much makeup they wear or how often they get theirnails done.Chances are there s something else going on.Some of the single ones are harder to figure, though.There are allkinds of reasons a thirty-something woman might live alone.Maybeshe s divorced or separated, or maybe she just likes her independence,but I have no idea if Rebecca Greenway lives alone.I don t even knowwhere she lives. 48A thought has been bugging me for the past few hours, anundeveloped idea that seems to be coming together.Since I ve beensingle, I ve come in contact with lots of sexy straight women, charmingwomen with beautiful faces and lovely bodies, but I ve never had thekind of adolescent crush I seem to have on Rebecca.Do I suspect thatshe might be gay? Have I picked her up on my gaydar screen butconvinced myself that she s off limits as a means of keeping mydistance?I close my eyes and snuggle down into the sofa. I don t know howto tell about women either.I m out of practice. Elizabeth s voice flows over me, a soft, breathy lullaby. It s timeyou got back into practice. I open my eyes a little and see her sitting there, brows knittedtogether, mouth turned down at the corners.We should drop thisconversation, but I go on. I ve always been with someone.I don t knowanything about how to approach a woman. Does she know what happened? No, and I m not telling her. She should know, Claire, especially if she s interested in morethan a filing cabinet. If by some crazy chance she is interested in me, I still don t wanther to know. I raise my hand, telling Elizabeth to drop it. Why not? I m not the only person in the world who s gone through this kindof thing.It happens every day to all kinds of people.If I told her, itwould make me sound like an even bigger loser than I really am. Elizabeth looks hard at me. Telling the truth doesn t make you aloser. Truth? Elizabeth doesn t know the truth from axle grease.I m theonly one who knows everything, right down to the real reason I havethis God-forsaken scar on the back of my hand.Or to be more precise,the real reason I have this God-forsaken scar on the back of my fist.ButI m not telling.If it eats a hole right though my guts, I won t tell.Elizabeth seems to be thinking out loud. I m not saying there sanything wrong with being single.But there s nothing wrong with beingsocial, either.Humans are social animals. I m social, I protest. I ve got you and Tonya, and I get all theinteraction at work I can handle. It s not the same. I m not up to starting over.Anyway, who d want an oldworkaholic has-been like me? 49 You act like you re a hundred years old.You had one sweetbeginning, and you re plenty young enough. That first sweet beginning was followed by one hell of a sourending. I blink back tears.My sobs will come later in the evening,when only Jitterbug can hear. So you ll have another sweet beginning.I know how hard it mustbe on you to come home to this empty house every day.I miss her beinghere, too, but your life isn t over, Claire [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]