The Goodbye Summer Read Online Free PDF

could remember. Look, the Winger family is okay, because I’m not crazy! She is, but I’m not!
    Most women acquired their personal styles by watching their mothers when they were young, then either copying or rejecting their mothers’ styles when they grew up. What Caddie could remember of her mother was skimpy: she’d worn hippie clothes and smoked cigarettes; she’d always tapped her foot or drummed her fingers or jogged her knee up and down; she’d had long blonde hair she let fall over one eye, and Caddie always wanted to pull it back like a curtain so she could see more, unveil the secret. But her mother hadn’t been around much, and she’d died when Caddie was too young really to understand her style. After that she’d had only Nana’s style to observe. She’d rejected it, she was still rejecting it, but she hadn’t replaced it with anything interesting of her own.
    But it was early days, and she was making a new start. She didn’t have the knack for living alone yet either, but it was only her first night. The Michaelstown Monitor ran personal ads every Friday afternoon. She got the paper, retrieved her pen, poured herself a second glass of wine—for courage—and sat down by the phone.
    The code didn’t mystify her anymore; she knew what a DHM was, a GWF, an SPBM. She read the personals every week, and once in a while she even felt tempted to answer one. She never had, but if she was ever going to, tonight was the night. Action. “I’m all about change,” she told Finney, who twitched in his sleep on her lap. “I am a wild woman.”
    Too bad the women always sounded more interesting than the men. Were they just better writers? No question, writing ads was an art form, but it was more than that. The men went on about their height and weight, the height and weight they wanted from the women who responded, the age range they would tolerate, the personality type they had to have. Whereas women seemed kinder and more open-minded. Easier to get along with. Here was an SWF who was “brainy, witty, sensual and spontaneous, loves entertaining, works/plays hard, comfortable in jeans and sequins.” Wouldn’t she make a cool friend? A lot more fun than this guy, seeking “clean SWF with high morals, no dependents.”
    Slim pickings this week. This one sounded the best: “Attractive SPWM, self-supporting, good conversationalist, serious but fun, enjoys politics, long walks, old movies. ISO intelligent woman who likes same, with whom to spend time and enjoy life.”
    With whom. Wow.
    If she thought about this for longer than ten seconds, she’d chicken out. She got her credit card out of her purse—two dollars and twenty-nine cents a minute —picked up the phone, and dialed.
    “Hello, this is Byron,” a deep, prerecorded voice said. “Thank you for answering my ad. Please leave a message and tell me a little about yourself. And don’t forget to leave your number so I can call you back.”
    Yikes, she was supposed to give her phone number to a total stranger? Well, if that was how it worked…
    “Um, hi, I’m Caddie. Hi, Byron. I thought you sounded very nice in your ad. I was hoping we could talk and, you know, see how we, um, are together…I’ve never done this before. Ha, that’s probably what they all say! I guess I should say what I look like, that’s what…” That’s what men always wanted to know. “I’m five eleven. I’m on the thin side. Slim. Slender. I have sort of blonde hair, streaky blonde, down to my shoulders…blue eyes…I have good posture. Oh, I’m thirty-two. I’m also self-supporting, like you, so—and I have my own car. I’m living alone at the moment…I’m easy to get along with, I think, no real…um, demands or anything.” She heaved a deep, silent sigh.
    “I’m just looking for a nice guy, you know, somebody to hang out with. Till we get to know each other. And then, well, whatever. Long-term relationship, that would be fine with me. That would be great.