Free Bingo by Rita Mae Brown

moustache.” This was petulant.
    “Wouldn’t like you then.” Jackson’s voice was singsong, like a kid’s at recess.
    “Really? Truly? You wouldn’t like me if I woke up tomorrow and were a man? Kind of like Kafka only with better results.”
    “I’d like you but I wouldn’t want to go to bed with you.”
    “Silly boy.” The cold air seeped in under the windowsill. I put on my sweater.
    “Do you think about leaving?”
    “Sometimes. Why do you ask? Have I said something or done something?”
    “No, I just don’t want to lose you, that’s all.” He kissed me again.
    I kissed him back. “This is my home. Sometimes it gets me.The smallness. The nosiness. Christ, every new idea is perceived as an act of aggression.”
    He studied my face. “I know. Sometimes I feel that even the buildings are leaking nostalgia. But I don’t know if I could live anywhere else. I belong here for better or for worse.”
    “Better.” I kissed him and left, Lolly and Pewter at my heels.

8
JULIA, THE SPY

WEDNESDAY … 1 APRIL
    T he moon, a silver sickle, offered little light but the sky was crystal clear. Mother’s night vision progressively deteriorated. If she wanted to go anywhere in the evening I usually drove her. I had no intention of driving her anywhere tonight but she bribed me with a huge pot of paper narcissus which she forced in her little greenhouse off the kitchen.
    We headed toward Luigi’s, the Italian restaurant about four miles west of town. Mark Mallory owned it and as far as I knew there never had been a Luigi in these parts. Despite the Chianti bottles with candles in them and the red-checkered tablecloths, the food was good.
    “Slow down.” Mother was a backseat driver.
    “I’m going to park.”
    “No, you’re not. I want to coast by.”
    “Okay.”
    The big red neon sign glowed up ahead. An Italian flag fluttered over the doorway. If we have to bring in our flag at night, Mark ought to bring in the Italian flag too. He could display it inside and get the same effect. Business was always good at Luigi’s. We crawled past, craning to see into the three-over-three windows.
    “See anything?” Mother asked.
    “I’m driving. I can’t look.”
    “Goddammit, I can’t see at night.”
    “Why didn’t you think of that in the first place?”
    “You’re the college-educated one. I thought you were smart.”
    “Mother, don’t start.”
    Lolly, Goodyear, and Pewter listened from the backseat.
    “I can’t see.”
    I drove past from the other direction. Couldn’t see a thing except lots of little heads. I drove by a few more times.
    “I’m about to wear out my tires.” I was getting testy.
    “I remember you got your driver’s license on a Friday. By Saturday you’d been to the filling station three times. You did wear out the tires!” She laughed.
    “That’s when you told me I had to get a job and buy my own car. Bet you don’t even remember my first car. Ha, I bet you don’t even remember your first car.”
    “I most certainly do.” She huffed and settled like a hen on a nest. “Your first car was a 1943 two-door Mercury and it ran like a top. I’d like to have that car back. Furthermore, you paid four hundred dollars for it and it was dark green. My first car, or the first car I drove, anyway—it was your father’s car—was a Model A Ford. That was his first and last Ford product. After that he became a convert to Chrysler, so maybe it was a good thing he died before you bought that old Mercury.” She paused, probably thinking about Dad. “I know a lot about cars. I kind of came into the world with them if you think about it.”
    “I think about Daddy every day and you know what?” I turned to Mother. “I smile every time.”
    “Keep your eyes on the road.”
    “Make up your mind. Either I stare at the road or I peer into Luigi’s.”
    We made a few more passes with no success.
    “Remember the time we played charades at the church and Chessy dressed up like Milton