Me and My Manny Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Judy, he’s got a boatswain’s pipe.” Harry blew the high-pitched whistle. “All hands on deck. I guess that makes him a petty officer too.”
    “See, he is a copy of you—somewhat.”
    I went on to explain that Wolf was made from a snapshot of Harry himself, but Harry interrupted to point out that pictures are flat and two-dimensional. And you can’t make much of a full-body replica from a photo.
    “Obviously, it’s a replica with a few slight differences, an artist’s rendition, the best that Mr. Gippo could do on short notice,” I said.
    “It’s not me,” Harry insisted.
    “Of course it isn’t.”
    “Being replaced feels strange.”
    “You’re not being replaced,” I told him. “You’re being celebrated. All the great lovers in history have been celebrated.”
    Allowing that I was right, Harry steered me into the bedroom so that I might show him my appreciation.
    “What about Wolf?” I asked.
    “He stays out in the living room.”
    Minutes later, in bed with Harry, I grew antsy and unable to partake in marital bliss.
    “Poor Wolf, out there in the dark alone.”
    “Where he belongs,” Harry said.
    “It’s not like I’m cheating on you. It’s more like separation anxiety. I feel like a child who’s lost her security blanket.”
    In Harry’s absence, the manny filled a void; he made me feel less empty. Now that he was gone from the room, I began to miss him almost as much as I had Harry.
    “I’m back now, so just forget him.” Harry sounded resolute.
    “I tried, but it’s just not the same.” Seeing Harry tense up, I spoke faster. “Wolf cheered me when I felt down in the dumps. He’s been a loyal companion while you were off to…to who knows where. And we thank him by abandoning him. I’ve got to go get him,” I said, throwing the covers back.
    “No!” Harry seized my arm.
    “He doesn’t take up much room.”
    “Judy, he’s as big as a man; he’s not a toy.”
    “Oh, you take everything so seriously.”
    “And you don’t take anything seriously.”
    “Just for tonight,” I begged.
    Wrenched free of Harry’s grip, I slid from beneath the sheet and padded into the living room. I gathered up my manny and returned to the bedroom where I sat him on a cushioned chair.
    “Now, isn’t that better?” I said, smiling at Wolf’s adorable face.
    “Not for me,” Harry groused, now sitting upright.
    I crawled back into bed, reminded of how inhibited Harry was. He did just fine when involved in passionate sex. Getting him involved was the issue. Harry was slow to arousal, a trait I’d ascribed to months aboard ship surrounded by buttoned-down service people. Harry’s restraint resulted from his squeaky-clean conditioning.
    I snuggled closer to Harry. “In a way, with him watching, sex feels naughty. You know, a kind of guilty pleasure.”
    Harry grimaced, making it evident that I had said the wrong thing. Voyeurism aboard ship was difficult to avoid when cramped into close quarters.
    “Sometimes,” I resumed, hoping to get my foot out of my mouth, “if you’re not creative, things can get kind of ho-hum. But if you add some spice, it sort of beef’s things up, so to speak.”
    “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “And having that manny join in on our conjugal relations proves it.”
    “What are you talking, idle mind?”
    I pushed up onto my elbow, recalling how busy I’d been since acquiring my manny.
    “I’m talking about the depravity you’ve apparently gotten into since I’ve been away,” Harry said.
    “Just because I think getting down and dirty could be fun, you think I’m depraved?”
    “And you think it’s perfectly normal to perform in front of that… that wooden Peeping Tom?”
    “Perform?” I was beginning to get it. Harry must have been alluding to performance anxiety—as if the manny could experience a vicarious thrill and grade him on it. “This is not a test. Wolf can’t cheer you on.