Blues for Beginners: Stories and Obsessions Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    Love oh love remember me.
    .
    A sky blue comforter and fresh, clean sheets
welcome him. Naked Shelly, Shelly with her hands on her hips,
stands in her bedroom doorway, hesitant as though waiting for a
cue. He wonders if this is some kind of last minute tease.
    “Come here, you,” he says from her bed.
    “Aren’t we forgetting something?” she says.
“You know, rubbers?”
    That forced perkiness, so inappropriate for
the occasion!
    “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything’s going
to be fine.”
    They will move to Pennsylvania and make
babies. She will have a garden and he will raise malamutes.
    “I’ve got some in the medicine cabinet if you
didn’t bring any.”
    “We’ll get married. If it’s a boy, we’ll name
it for your father.”
    “You don’t get it,” she says, earnest and
implacable as a health careprofessional. “You know, AIDS?”
    “Trust me a little on this one; do I look
like a fruit?” He means his words to sound gentle, teasing, while
his eyes register hurt, injured pride but no self-pity. “Take a
chance, Shelly. Don’t make me sleep in the cold.”
    A grave, almost dutiful look comes over her
face, and she climbs into bed. His needs are stronger than her
resolve.
    And later, her naked face under his. Child
still. Peony in the rain. So much he can teach her. That expansive
feeling again, but softer.
    “I’m-older-than-you is going to define this
relationship,” he says, drifting towards sleep.
    Her laugh sounds wide awake and almost
mirthless.
    “What’s so funny, you?” he says.
    The appraiser’s look she gives him makes him
catch his breath, makes him wonder for the first time if he’s
reached her at all.
    .
    In the morning he wakes first. Through
Shelly’s bedroom window he can see the Cathedral.
    “Hey,” he whispers in her ear, “I like
you.”
    Just in case she’s awake but doesn’t want to
make a commitment. A glance at her book shelves tells him the
dimensions of the problem. All the required reading for the Woman’s
Studies seminar but no Tolkein. He will make her read Chesterton
and D.H. Lawrence. He will feed her vitamins and bring her bottled
water from mountain springs. He will start by fixing her breakfast
in bed.
    The pickings in Shelly’s refrigerator are
slim: half a carton of orange juice, some English muffins, and a
small tub of margarine. Browsing through her cupboards he discovers
a small jar of champagne marmalade. What a nice touch, champagne
marmalade for his first breakfast with Shelly.
    She stands in the kitchen doorway all dressed
for work, navy blazer jacket over dress and pearls, pumps and red
lipstick.
    “Excuse me, but I was saving that for a
special occasion,” she says.
    She needs reassurance, that’s all.
Reassurance and a good cup of coffee.
    “And what could be more special than our
first breakfast? If you run to the store like a good girl and pick
us up a dozen eggs, some ham, a hunk of Guyere cheese, and some
fresh ground coffee, I’ll fix a breakfast that will knock your
socks off.”
    “I get it. You want to move in with me,” she
says.
    In this damp gray voice. She knows what she
wants but it scares her. He’s been there before.
    “Admit it, little one. You can’t get along
without me. Why fight it?”
    He waits for that little topple of laughter
that will turn her back into his Shelly again.
    “I’m real late for work, and I still have to
empty the garbage,” she says.
    Posters have gone up overnight, he thinks,
and the students take to the streets. Expel the foreign invader,
they chant. Yankee go home.
    He blocks the doorway.
    “You owe me an explanation, little one,” he
says, not minding the note of menace creeping into his voice.
    Her eyes are cool and sad.
    “I figured you were a little crazy after you
made me cross Wisconsin Avenue in the middle of the block to avoid
the Palestinian guerrillas, but I felt sorry for you. Only I
shouldn’t have let you stay when you wouldn’t use a condom.