Free Story Girl by Katherine Carlson Page A

need to be nervous, Tracy.”
    “I’m not nervous.”
    “Or defensive.”
    “I am not defensive.”
    “You don’t have to come – it was just an idea.”
    I studied him to see if he was practicing reverse psychology on me.
    “I want to come.”
    “Good.”
    I made us our tea and we sat in silence.
    “I have to pee all of a sudden.”
    Lucy and I went to the bathroom. She scratched around in her litter box, and I peed a gallon only to discover that I was out of toilet paper.
    “James!”
    “What?”
    “Could you bring me some coffee filters? They’re right beside the pot.”
    He obliged me, no questions asked. I was aware that a big part of what attracted me to him was how comfortable I still felt in my own skin. He didn’t activate my walls, and even better, I didn’t have to turn myself into any sort of feminine caricature.
    “Are you hungry?” I hollered.
    “Famished.”
    We ordered Thai food, and filled the kitchen corner of the room with pineapple-fried rice, red curry chicken, garlic prawns, and pad thai noodles. We also sipped the wine that my friend had sent for my birthday.
    “So why do you think you get hives?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. Maybe I’m allergic to the choices I’ve made.”
    “Your choices aren’t so bad.”
    “Look around, James. I live in a big litter box and I’m unemployed. I have no clue what I should do or where I want to be.”
    “And that’s bad
why
?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe I’m allergic to the choices I’m supposed to make.”
    “That might be more like it.”
    I twirled a huge heap of noodles around my fork.
    “But I mean, what do I have?” I asked. “What have I done?”
    “You’re also free, a blank canvas. You are free to wander, remember? You’re not anchored to anything but this moment.”
    Yes, that ever-reliable moment had now become excruciating. It was time to touch him. I placed my hand over his and gently rubbed his knuckles with my thumb. His hands were exquisite, andfor a long time I just stared down at them – at the thick veins and bits of hangnail that he’d chewed.
    Finally, I felt his other hand on my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his own. He gently pulled my face into his, where our mouths and teeth and tongues met, searching and exploring, but mostly eager to consume. Even the bits of pineapple rice in our teeth couldn’t hold us back.

chapter 13

    J AMES TOLD A big fat fib.
    He’d assured me that the dinner with his parents would be casual, but I showed up at the restaurant completely underdressed. I’d insisted on taking a cab and meeting them – just in case things got awkward and I needed to bolt. And now I found myself sitting in bell-bottom jeans in a well-known Beverly Hills eatery famous for their salads.
    “What’s wrong?” James whispered – even though his parents had excused themselves to go admire a painting on a far wall… although I’m sure it was just an excuse to go compare notes on the hopeless new gal in their son’s life.
    “Your parents look like they’re ready for the Golden Globes.”
    “They always dress like that.”
    “I have a patch in the shape of a raspberry stitched into my ass.”
    “They’re just happy you’re here.”
    “And what cologne are you wearing?”
    “Some expensive thing my mother handed me at the airport.”
    “I feel like a bit of a hobo – you could have prepared me.”
    “Huh?”
    “I’m wearing a thrift-store blouse. I thought we were going for pizza or something.”
    “My parents don’t do pizza. Just be yourself.”
    “A neurotic pile of nerves?”
    He tilted his head at me as though I were still the cutest, most aggravating thing he’d ever had to put up with.
    “You’re beautiful, Tracy. Now just be yourself.”
    “Okay – I’ll try.”
    His parents came back to the table chatting merrily about Hollywood’s golden age – but once they settled back into place, the table went mysteriously and terribly silent. I wiped my sweaty palms on my