Free The Care and Feeding of Griffins by R. Lee Smith Page B

girl sounded near tears.  Taryn felt very bad about that.  Poor unnamed girl.  Taryn had ruined what seemed like a very nice time.
    A minute later, in a rush of half-dressed limbs, the girl came streaking out of the bedroom, past Taryn, and away through the door with a bang.  She didn ’t say anything.  Taryn didn’t watch her go.
    It seemed much longer before Taryn heard the low shuffle of John ’s bare feet on the carpet.  There was silence and then he sighed.  “What?” he asked.  He sounded tired.  “Am I supposed to apologize?”
    The question surprised her strangely.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “Are you sorry?”
    “ Not really.”  He came around and sat beside her on the couch.  He’d put on his bathrobe.  The red one.  She’d got him that one for his birthday.  “I’ve tried to patient, Tare, but I’m a man.  Men have needs.”
    “ Oh, for God’s sake.”  The lameness of the justification angered her in a way the infidelity itself hadn’t; she shot him a glare and he looked away, flushing.  “I could quote you chapter and verse of sex studies proving that retread went out with the rest of the gender bias from the 50’s, but I’m too tired.  If you’re going to cheat, then cheat, but find a better excuse, will you?  Show me that much respect.”
    “ Okay.”  He still wouldn’t look at her but his voice had hardened.  “Maybe I should have said, “I have needs,’ and left it at that, but I didn’t think you’d understand.  It’s not the sort of thing you relate to.”
    “ And now it’s my fault,” she remarked.  She tossed the cushion aside and clasped her hands between her knees, staring out the window at her car.  Aisling.  There was a baby griffin in her car and she was in here breaking up with her boyfriend.  Surreal could not begin to blanket what she was feeling.
    John held on to his tight silence for a little while longer and then let it all go in a sigh.  He sagged, his head dropping, and then he looked at her at last.  “It’s not your fault,” he said.  “But it’s not my fault, either.  I wanted sex, Tare.  Normal, healthy people want to have sex.”
    She drew back, stung.  “I—”
    “ Yeah, I know, I know.  You’re not ready.”  John expelled frustration in a curt gust and stood up. He went to the dining room and topped off one of the wine glasses, keeping his back to her.  “And you’re never going to be ready, Tare, that’s the thing.  You know, the day after we first went out, I bumped into one of your exes and he told me you were frigid.  I figured it was your typical ex-boyfriend thing.”  The laughter he used to punctuate this was a bitter thing to hear.  He drank his wine.
    “ I’m not frigid,” she argued, hurt.
    John snorted.
    “I’m not.”
    “ Really?”  He turned around, resting his hand on the back of a chair and crossing one ankle laconically over the other.  Between the red robe, the gently-swirling glass of wine and his piercing, dry smile, he looked like a commercial for fine cheeses.  “Then what are you waiting for, Taryn?”
    She lifted her hands and dropped them again.  “Someone I love.”
    His face turned to stone.  He swallowed and set his glass down with an icy deliberateness that was as hard to watch as his sardonic laughter had been to hear.  “Okay,” he said evenly.  “I guess I deserved that.”
    “ Oh please.”  Taryn pulled her braid around to rub between her palms, her eyes fixed on her own red hair so she wouldn’t have to look at him.  “Don’t say that like it hurt.  If you loved me, you wouldn’t have had Miss Muffet over for dinner.  I could almost understand just bringing someone home to have sex with, but you made an effort here tonight, John, so don’t even try to pretend that you love me.”
    He was quiet for a long time, just looking at her.  “I used to love you,” he said finally.  “Or at least, I sure thought I did.  I tried to hold