Wanting Rita Read Online Free PDF

anyway.”
    “You mean, like living her own life? Growing up?”
    Rita licked her lips, thoughtfully. “Yeah…I think so.” Then more firmly, grabbing the idea. “Yeah. You’ve got to grow up. That’s it, Alan James. That’s good!”
    “But she left before the tree died,” I said. “I mean, I just don’t get that. The tree died, I think, because the girl left him.”
    Rita’s eyes clouded over. “Yeah…I’m not really sure about that. Maybe it just sounded good. Maybe she left before the tree died. Maybe she couldn’t stand to see the tree die. It would hurt too much. So, she left.”
    That struck me as tragic and I’d never thought of Rita as being tragic. But I was still greatly impressed with Rita’s story and explanation and I wasn’t going to risk being offensive. “Oh, yeah, well, it’s good. The writing is great. I mean, better than good.”
    Rita fumbled for her pen. “You really like it?”
    “Yeah. It’s really good, Rita.”
    Her faced opened into pure pleasure. “Thanks, Alan. If you like it, then I’ll keep working on it.”
    Seconds later, her mood changed. Her mouth puckered in indecision and she slumped and faced the window, squinting into the sunlight.
    “What’s the matter?” I asked.
    She stared down at my story as if there was a big ugly bug crawling across it. “Alan,” she said, with quiet authority. “Everybody in your story is so angry.”
    My heart jumped. I shrugged, in obvious agreement. “Well, yeah. I know. That’s kind of my style.”
    Rita was silent.
    “You didn’t like it?” I asked, masking a tepid anxiety.
    She squirmed. “It’s not that I didn’t like it…Well, I mean, what’s it really about?”
    I shrank a little. My voice lost its vigor. “You know, it’s kind of a play on the phrase, ‘Left To Die.’”
    Rita nodded. “Okay…Yes. And so this guy, Pete, is angry because people don’t really understand him?”
    I got defensive. “Well, it’s not just that. Pete believes that people and nature are basically destructive, but despite that, he has to fight on. He’s actually a hero.”
    “I don’t think all people are destructive or bad,” Rita said.
    “Oh come on, Rita, you’re just naïve. Nature is constantly eating itself. People are stealing, killing and fighting wars all over the world.”
    Her voice gained strength and conviction. “I’m not naïve, Alan! What is your middle name?”
    That disarmed me and I stammered. “Whaa, why?”
    “What is it?”
    I hesitated. “It’s James. Alan James.”
    “Alan James,” she repeated, reflectively. “I like it.”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “I feel you’d be less pessimistic if you used both names. Alan. James. Alan James. It adds strength and optimism. I’m going to start calling you that.”
    “That doesn’t make any sense, Rita. A name doesn’t…”
    She cut me off. “I’m going to show you how fun the world can be, Alan James. I’m going to show you how to be Alan James, not just boring and brooding Alan.” She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, for emphasis. “I’m going to rehabilitate you.”
    “Rehabilitate…?”
    “Yes.”
    I blinked rapidly, tingling from head to toe. “Okay…” It sounded delicious and daunting, but her treatment had already begun to take effect. I felt absolutely euphoric.
     
    My oatmeal arrived, steaming. The banana came sliced, overripe and piled in a little mountain on a separate blue chipped dish, but it smelled good. The waitress refilled the coffee and withdrew, wordless. I added sugar and some milk to the oats, and spooned a couple of bites, chewing slowly and stealing sporadic glances, looking for Rita.
    A moment later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Startled, I turned.
    She was heavy, with a fleshy round face and short brown hair. Her smile was uncomfortable. “Hi, Alan.”
    I swallowed the bite. “…Hi.”
    “You don’t remember me, do you?”
    I came up blank and she giggled. “Oh, my, well