Trolls in the Hamptons Read Online Free PDF Page A

Or if I do, what if he doesn’t like my weird family? Or they hate him? Worse, what if he doesn’t love me back? Or does at first then changes his mind, to love someone else? The therapist said many children of divorce have the same concerns, which didn’t help me one bit. I stopped going.
    You know what scares me worse? The idea of never falling in love at all. Watching my friends get married, have children, become part of a bigger entity outside themselves while I am left alone. On the other hand, I think wanting to be alone when you are with your supposed loved ones must be the worst of all.
    I’m afraid I’ll never have the right answers.
    Like now. I’m almost sorry I asked Arlen to come over. I don’t want to be by myself, but suddenly Arlen feels like a stand-in, a settling for something I haven’t found. Which is cruel and conniving and something I am not proud of. I am not, in general, a user. At least I try not to be. I have principles.
    I do like Arlen, and I do like being with him. Of course, I liked him a lot better before he didn’t come in a hurry when I needed him.
    I liked Arlen a lot better before I met Officer Gregory, too. Ten minutes with the off-duty cop had me smiling and blushing and feeling pretty and feminine. And crazy, but that wasn’t his fault. Now that he was gone I felt panicky again, which also wasn’t his fault, but made me realize how starved I was for that kind of attention. Officer Gregory made me happier when he came, and sadder when he left. I don’t think it’s a good sign when a woman is more attracted to, and feels more comfortable talking to, a perfect stranger than a man she’s been seeing for months.
    According to my friend Sherrie, she of the second marriage, a woman never needs to stop looking at men, or liking them. Men keep looking, and lusting, married or not, so why shouldn’t a woman? I have no idea if my father truly wandered before the divorce. His eyes did. My mother thought he did. Now he has more lady friends in Florida than I can keep up with. Marilyn cooks lasagna, Myra is a good tennis partner, Monique is teaching him French—and those are just the M’s.
    Maybe it’s another relic of my parents’ divorce, but I really believe in fidelity in a marriage, and even before. I mean, if you can’t trust the guy you’re sleeping with, why are you sleeping with him?
    Well, for the sex and the companionship and movies and dinner out and someone to go to your friends’ weddings with. Okay, maybe I am a user. But I don’t date two men at once, not after the third or fourth date anyway. And not once we’ve established an intimate relationship. That’s another principle.
    Sometimes you have to overcome your fears. Other times you have to overcome your principles.
    â€œYes, I’d still like some company tonight,” I told Arlen when he finally called. I took a shower. He brought sushi. He told me about his day. I asked him if he believed in the power of imagination. He asked if I wanted to be on top again.
    That was about as far as Arlen’s mind could travel into the unknown. But I admired his grounding, his stability. I thought we balanced each other. He thought sex would help me relax. Then again, he thought sex helped keep him fit and focused, centered. Like taking his vitamin supplements.
    Tonight that suited me, pure arousal, an out-of-mind interval with no troubling thoughts. I should have known better.
    Arlen knew all the right places to touch and kiss and caress. Except he smelled and tasted like seaweed. I ignored that and managed to fall into bliss without once thinking of eels. The problem was, what Arlen considered foreplay, was enough for me, for tonight. Now I thought I could fall asleep without nightmares. I was ready to drift off, pleasantly satisfied.
    Arlen wasn’t, naturally. Like a good camper, I tried to rise to the level of his, ah, ardor. But,