Against the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the house because she loved it. It’s what she’s always told me.
    “I haven’t had a man …” again, a long pause. She’s actually blushing, her neck is flushing. “I haven’t been laid in over a year,” she says to the ceiling.
    The impulse is to offer my services, but that would be making light of it, not a clever move. I look at her; she’s a great-looking woman, what’s wrong with the men in this town? She can’t even get an occasional mercy fuck? That’s the problem; she couldn’t do it that way.
    “So the guys in this town are a bunch of blind assholes or gay. So what else is new?”
    “That’s the goddam point,” she says vehemently, turning to me. “That’s the whole goddam point; that and the fact that I’m going nowhere in my work. Zilch, zero, zip.”
    “It’ll work out.” It’s a lame answer, but what else is there? I’m sorry she’s feeling bad, but right now I’ve got my own problems to deal with.
    “That’s why I’m moving.”
    The cup freezes halfway to my lips. I manage to put it back on the coaster without spilling it on the rug.
    “To Seattle.” She’s on her feet, checking her watch, suddenly fascinated with the time. “I’d better call Claudia. I don’t want you to lose any of your week-end with her.”
    “Whoa Nelly.” Now I’m on my feet, which are uncharacteristically shaky; my legs are turning to jelly. “What’re you talking about?”
    “I didn’t know how to tell you.” She pulls off her sweat-band, stretches it into a figure eight. All of a sudden my head is light, I feel a rush of air through the room. I stare at her, my brain frozen.
    “Simple English’ll do.”
    “All right.” She inhales, gathering her forces. She’s very competent; if our history wouldn’t inevitably have gotten in the way I’d have brought her into the firm years ago; she and Andy’d make a great one-two behind-the-scenes punch. If they don’t take me back she can have my place; save them some money on repainting the door, not to mention cards and stationery.
    “For the past year I’ve been sending out my résumé,” she says. “No big deal, everything on the q.t.; I was curious about my market value, I wanted to know if I had one.” She hesitates.
    “And?” I’m dreading where this is going.
    “There are people out there who think I’m kind of special,” she tells me proudly. I swear her breasts rise under her T-shirt.
    “I think you’re kind of special,” I banter, trying out a grin; it feels lame.
    She stares at me strangely. “That’s funny,” she says, “I’ve never felt that. Not professionally.”
    “It never came up.” I don’t like where this is going, I want to get it back on track. “So where does Seattle fit in?”
    “Four firms seemed interested, enough so that they wanted to interview me. Two were back East; I don’t want to go back there. One was in Tucson, the other was Seattle. So … last month I went to Tucson and Seattle.”
    “I thought you went to your parents in Minneapolis last month.” I’d had Claudia for the entire week.
    “I didn’t want anybody to know.”
    “You didn’t want to panic Robertson,” I say. “Or piss him off,” I add more accurately.
    “In case I didn’t get them,” she nods, answering honestly. She breaks into a grin. “They both wanted me.”
    “So how come Seattle?” My mind is racing but it isn’t going anywhere, it’s stuck in sand. All I can think is if she moves my daughter moves, if my daughter moves I don’t see her, every day if I want to, at least two or three times a week. Right now, this very moment, I am suddenly consumed with fear.
    “It’s beautiful,” she says, “I’ve been living in the desert for twenty years, I want to smell the ocean. And it’s filled with eligible men—nice, charming men. I had dates both nights I was there,” she adds, almost gaily.
    “So how come you didn’t get laid?” I ask sourly. I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
    “I’m