That Magic Mischief Read Online Free PDF Page B

…
    • • •
    In a blur of her own fine tailoring, Maria Grazia ran across the street, and took Annabelle’s stoop three steps at a time. Her strangled voice answered the buzz, and MG quickly said, “It’s me, it’s me.”
    Annabelle’s flushed, teary face greeted her at the door. Without a word, MG embraced her and led her to the couch. They sat, saying nothing, Annabelle crying and Maria Grazia soothing.
    It seemed impossible that Annabelle’s relationship could be over. Just three days ago, Saturday, they had all hung out at his place, a quaint one-bedroom on Riverside and Ninety First, eating a pseudo-gourmet meal (
not
freshly prepared, Maria Grazia sniffed) and drinking loads of wine, watching a video … Annabelle had been working pretty hard revising the most recent draft of her latest historical fiction thingie — Maria Grazia didn’t pretend to understand Belle’s work, it seemed so coldly objective, and so not Belle’s own personality — anyway, this was practically her first night out in over a week. Wilson had seemed … well, how did Wilson ever seem. They had appeared as affectionate as ever — or was the affection all on Belle’s end, always touching, stroking, smiling?
    The thing that had been interesting about this particular relationship was that Annabelle didn’t seem to need to talk everything over, to ‘figure it out’ in front of her friends. Maria Grazia had assumed that she was doing that actively with her boyfriend. There had been a calm to the last seven or so months that, to her, spoke to a maturity in relationship, a departure from slumber party mentality.
    “He said. He said — he didn’t love me. As much as I loved him.”
    “That frickin’ asshole.”
    “He said — but last night on the phone, he said, ‘Love you’. I knew it. I knew the words were meaningless. I knew it didn’t mean — I knew all along that it’s just words, it’s not, it’s not — ”
    “Had anything happened? The day before or since Saturday — ”
    “Things were fine Saturday. Sunday — I, I was exhausted. I really wanted to get that draft right before I sent it off to another agent. I was going over it at his place, and I, I don’t know, I got scared, you know? Nervous. I got a little weepy and … he kind of blew it off. I wanted some kind words. Just a few kind words. ‘You can do it, honey.’ That’s all.”
    “Well, yeah. I mean, from your frickin’ boyfriend.”
    “And he just went off about how this was always the way, as long as he’d known me, this
behavior
, this crying in front of him. And how I had just been on the phone with Lorna and everything was fine, why wasn’t I all upset with
her
, and I
had
been, but she gave me one of her pep talks — ”
    “I’ll bet — ”
    “But he didn’t hear me, and she had actually cheered me up, but this is big for me, you know, I’ve been trying to make it for so long, and I — ”
    “What? Go on, Belle — you can tell me.”
    “I’ve been having a hard time, feeling like he wasn’t supporting me. I felt so
whiny
, ‘Oh support me, support me’, but it seemed unfair, like I had to play some role, some thing I had to do, be this cute sexy girl who just liked to go out to dinner and the theater, and not have a, a, a, weak spot, to not be able to handle every single thing.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “And I brought it up, this feeling, and I used all the stupid correct psychological terms, like ‘I feel like’, and ‘When this happens I feel like’ and he just said, you keep picking and picking at the same thing, and I said it’ll keep coming up if we don’t work it out!”
    “No shit. You’re absolutely right.”
    “And it just got worse, and I started crying
more
, so I dropped it. And then I left because I, well, I wanted to give the manuscript a little boost, do a spell, you know, something to send it on its way, and I got home, and felt calm, and I got my work done, and I called him and apologized —
again
—