The Lover's Dictionary Read Online Free PDF Page B

ever had for you. We met at that sushi place on Seventh Avenue and I awkwardly shook her hand, then told her I’d heard so much about her, which came off like me trying to legitimize your friendship, when I was the one who needed to get the stamp of approval. I was on safer ground once we started talking about books, and she seemed impressed that I actually read them. She remarked on the steadiness of my job, the steadiness of my family. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be steady, but she saw my unease and assured me it was a good thing, not usually your type. We found out we’d gone to summer camp within ten minutes of each other, and that sealed it. You were lost in our tales of the Berkshires and the long, unappreciative stretches we’d spent on the Tanglewood lawn.
    At the end of the dinner, I got a hug, not a handshake. She seemed so relieved. I should have been glad . . . but it only made me wonder about the other guys of yours that she’d met. I wondered why I was considered such a break from the norm.

J
    jaded , adj.
    We’ll have contests to see which one of us can be more skeptical. America will never vote for a Jew for president right on down to The younger, cuter, puppydog guy will totally be the next American Idol. Like our own version of that old song — “Anything you can do, I can do bleaker.”
    But.
    In the end, we both want the right thing to happen, the right person to win, the right idea to prevail. We have no faith that it will, but still we want it. Neither of us has given up on anything.

jerk , v.
    “This has to stop,” I say. “You have to stop hurting me. I can’t take it. I really can’t take it.”
    “I know you can’t take it,” you say. “But is that really my fault?”
    I try to convince myself that it’s the alcohol talking. But alcohol can’t talk. It just sits there. It can’t even get itself out of the bottle.
    “It is your fault,” I tell you. But you’ve already left the room.

justice , n.
    I tell you about Sal Kinsey, the boy who spit on me every morning for a month in seventh grade, to the point that I could no longer ride the bus. It’s just a story, nothing more than that. In fact, it comes up because I’m telling you how I don’t really hate many people in this world, and you say that’s hard to believe, and I say, “Well, there’s always Sal Kinsey,” and then have to explain.
    The next day, you bring home a photo of him now, downloaded from the Internet. He is morbidly obese — one of my favorite phrases, so goth, so judgmental. He looks miserable, and the profile you’ve found says he’s single and actively looking.
    I think that will be it. But then, the next night, you tell me that you tracked down his office address. And not only that, you sent him a dozen roses, signing the card, It is so refreshing to see that you’ve grown up to be fat, desperate, and lonely. Anonymous, of course. You even ordered the bouquet online, so no florist could divulge your personal information.
    I can’t help but admire your capacity for creative vengeance. And at the same time, I am afraid of it.

juxtaposition , n.
    It scares me how hard it is to remember life before you. I can’t even make the comparisons anymore, because my memories of that time have all the depth of a photograph. It seems foolish to play games of better and worse . It’s simply a matter of is and is no longer .

K
    kerfuffle , n.
    From now on, you are only allowed one drink at any of my office parties. One. Preferably a beer.

kinetic , adj.
    Joanna asked me to describe you, and I said, “Kinetic.”
    We were both surprised by this response. Usually, with a date, it was “I don’t know . . . cool” or “Not that bad” or, at the highest level of excitement, “Maybe it will work out.” But there was something about you that made me think of sparks and motion.
    I still see that now. Less when we’re alone. More when we’re with other people. When you’re surrounded by life. Reaching out