said, and it all came tumbling out. The rescue by this guy who even when covered by a scarf was Greek Godian in nature.
"That's not a word. I'm a writer. I know these things."
"Shush," I said, and rushed on. About his letting me make my own way the first time I said it (her expression said, "Giving you what you asked for! Perish the thought!") and about leaving me to slip and slide and get my own bag. It didn't help that Sunny was laughing by now. About sliding about in the snow, and getting locked out, and about him calling me Princess, and about the dinner and conversation.
"Sounds like he's determined to treat you exactly the way you asked to be treated and you don't know what to do about it," Sunny said archly.
"Shut up," I replied with great wit. I sipped coffee. I stared around her kitchen. "Why is he calling me princess? I don't act like that, do I?"
Sunny put her mug down. "Now you're getting somewhere," she said. "You know how some guys claim to hate cats?"
Worried now. "Yes, but I don't see how that helps. Not a cat." Waving a hand down my own non-feline body.
She waved that away. "Men react to cats because cats are independent. They say what they want and when they want it. They don't – " she grinned – "Pussyfoot."
I made a face. "Bad."
"You didn't ask him to come get you, true. But you also didn't fall at his feet with gratitude."
"I was supposed to do both?" If I kicked off my shoes and planted my feet on her polished concrete kitchen floor I could enjoy the radiant heat.
"Yes. It's guy thing. Don't think about it too hard or you will go mad."
"Great. It's all I've been thinking about." To my own disgust. "OK, fine. I can see wanting the frail fem to be ever so thankful that she's been saved. But what about the rest of it?"
Sunny frowned. "Maybe like elementary school where the boys have to pull your hair to let you know they like you?"
I rolled my eyes again. "No. Try again."
She did, more seriously. "At the risk of defending him – and he did act pretty bad – it sounds like he's every bit as defensive as." She stopped talking suddenly, her eyes wide and innocent.
"As me?"
Wry face, mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "Sorry, hon. But you do keep people at arm's length."
Or farther. "OK," I said and was quiet again and like a good friend, she let me be quiet and when the time spun out, she got up and washed some dishes until I said, "But I can't stop thinking about him. I've been able to stop thinking about all of them the minute it went south," I said, referring to the last four years since college and the four years of college and the two years before that in high school when I was dating. There wasn't one boyfriend from the last ten years of them who adhered to my heart or brain a second after the breakup. So what the hell.
I said just that.
Sunny looked at me with infinite patience and pity, both, and said, "Maybe this one matters, My."
After that she did something more useful than making me think.
She went and asked Kurt about Rick.
Chapter 5
Our four days went fast. We went out for meals, sometimes with Kurt and the twins and sometimes by ourselves. We made plans for what we'd do when I got moved and we were only a couple hours apart. We strolled through bookstores and parks and went running and talked long into the night and nothing had changed between us. Staying up until the wee hours because the twins were restless or because we were talking, it made no difference.
Good friends are like that.
I didn't dwell on Rick. He hadn't called and wasn't going to call, that was clear, and that was fine. He'd been an aberration in my life, a short and strange one that had left me feeling stronger rather than confused, clingy, needy, lonely or brokenhearted. Relationships weren't what I was looking for right now, so the fact that he wasn't offering (wasn't doing anything where I was concerned) was fine.
Last day of my visit was warm enough to stand around in the
"That's not a word. I'm a writer. I know these things."
"Shush," I said, and rushed on. About his letting me make my own way the first time I said it (her expression said, "Giving you what you asked for! Perish the thought!") and about leaving me to slip and slide and get my own bag. It didn't help that Sunny was laughing by now. About sliding about in the snow, and getting locked out, and about him calling me Princess, and about the dinner and conversation.
"Sounds like he's determined to treat you exactly the way you asked to be treated and you don't know what to do about it," Sunny said archly.
"Shut up," I replied with great wit. I sipped coffee. I stared around her kitchen. "Why is he calling me princess? I don't act like that, do I?"
Sunny put her mug down. "Now you're getting somewhere," she said. "You know how some guys claim to hate cats?"
Worried now. "Yes, but I don't see how that helps. Not a cat." Waving a hand down my own non-feline body.
She waved that away. "Men react to cats because cats are independent. They say what they want and when they want it. They don't – " she grinned – "Pussyfoot."
I made a face. "Bad."
"You didn't ask him to come get you, true. But you also didn't fall at his feet with gratitude."
"I was supposed to do both?" If I kicked off my shoes and planted my feet on her polished concrete kitchen floor I could enjoy the radiant heat.
"Yes. It's guy thing. Don't think about it too hard or you will go mad."
"Great. It's all I've been thinking about." To my own disgust. "OK, fine. I can see wanting the frail fem to be ever so thankful that she's been saved. But what about the rest of it?"
Sunny frowned. "Maybe like elementary school where the boys have to pull your hair to let you know they like you?"
I rolled my eyes again. "No. Try again."
She did, more seriously. "At the risk of defending him – and he did act pretty bad – it sounds like he's every bit as defensive as." She stopped talking suddenly, her eyes wide and innocent.
"As me?"
Wry face, mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "Sorry, hon. But you do keep people at arm's length."
Or farther. "OK," I said and was quiet again and like a good friend, she let me be quiet and when the time spun out, she got up and washed some dishes until I said, "But I can't stop thinking about him. I've been able to stop thinking about all of them the minute it went south," I said, referring to the last four years since college and the four years of college and the two years before that in high school when I was dating. There wasn't one boyfriend from the last ten years of them who adhered to my heart or brain a second after the breakup. So what the hell.
I said just that.
Sunny looked at me with infinite patience and pity, both, and said, "Maybe this one matters, My."
After that she did something more useful than making me think.
She went and asked Kurt about Rick.
Chapter 5
Our four days went fast. We went out for meals, sometimes with Kurt and the twins and sometimes by ourselves. We made plans for what we'd do when I got moved and we were only a couple hours apart. We strolled through bookstores and parks and went running and talked long into the night and nothing had changed between us. Staying up until the wee hours because the twins were restless or because we were talking, it made no difference.
Good friends are like that.
I didn't dwell on Rick. He hadn't called and wasn't going to call, that was clear, and that was fine. He'd been an aberration in my life, a short and strange one that had left me feeling stronger rather than confused, clingy, needy, lonely or brokenhearted. Relationships weren't what I was looking for right now, so the fact that he wasn't offering (wasn't doing anything where I was concerned) was fine.
Last day of my visit was warm enough to stand around in the
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