The Return of Jonah Gray Read Online Free PDF Page A

impartial.
    Still, it was nice to be asked and even nicer to feel as though I’d performed a public good rather than a necessary evil. Don’t get me wrong—auditing is about fairness. I mean, I pay my taxes. And people living in this country and driving on its roads and breathing its air, well, why should some folks foot the bill while others sneak off? But this audit had been different. I had actually made the Ritters’ lives easier. I liked the feeling that left me with—a sense of pride and satisfaction that drained dry as I spoke to my mother.
    â€œSure I’m happy,” I told my mom. “As much as anybody else.” That I’d been off at work of late wasn’t something I would ever admit to her. She would have leaped at an opening to tell me that I was in the wrong profession.
    â€œI don’t believe you,” she said. “What’s up with you and Gene? I want to know, but you don’t have to tell me.”
    I was long since sorry that my key hadn’t slipped away from my fingers in the bottom of my bag, at least for a few more seconds. Couldn’t I have hit another red light on the way home? My mother was an expert at the “I’m not overstepping, I’m just interested” arm-twist.
    â€œNothing’s up with me and Gene.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
    â€œIt means we’re not dating anymore. Like I told you.”
    â€œIt was your job, wasn’t it? That job is always interfering with your love life.”
    â€œYou’re the one who’s always interfering with my love life,” I reminded her. “Gene had no problem with my job.”
    â€œAnd I don’t have to tell you how unusual that is. You don’t toss a guy like that out with your dirty dishwater.” An image of my ex-boyfriend, shrunken down and bathing in my sink flashed into my mind. It was not appealing. “And you two have so much in common,” my mother went on.
    â€œWe do?” That got my attention. She may have been the first person to say that about me and Gene. Most of my friends had chalked us up to a case of opposites attracting. Martina’s standing line was “He’s milk toast to me, but whatever makes you happy.”
    â€œYou both work for the government,” my mother pointed out.
    â€œAnd? I have as much in common with the first lady.”
    â€œYou’re not saying—”
    I cut her off. “No, not a lesbian, Mom.”
    â€œBecause that would be fine,” she went on.
    â€œGene and I broke up last month,” I reminded her.
    â€œYou never said why. ”
    â€œIt wasn’t because I’m not into guys. I just wasn’t into him. He just—he never noticed anything. He only saw what was right in front of him. He never saw me. ”
    My mother sighed. She sounded as if she was settling in. “Marriages are work,” she said after a time. “But they’re worth it.”
    Mom often used her marriage to my father as the example on which all unions should be based. She tended to gloss over her threats to leave, their trial separation years before, and the difficult times before my brother Blake was born.
    â€œGene and I only dated for six months. We weren’t married.” I don’t know why I felt obligated to point that out. In some recess of her mind, she must have known it.
    â€œI’m just saying that no one’s perfect,” she said. “You’re not perfect. Your father certainly isn’t perfect. Even I’m not perfect.” She didn’t sound convinced about that last part.
    â€œThanks for the pep talk. Big help.”
    â€œAre you sure it wasn’t because of your job?”
    Neither of my parents was happy that I worked for the IRS, and they’d never made any effort to conceal their feelings. Indeed, I had wondered a few times before whether my longevity at the Service stemmed from the