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The two of them make eye contact, and I watch as she assesses what to do. If she’s comfortable enough to compliment the woman with the scary music.
The sentence rushes out of her so slurred that it sounds like one long word.
Kara smiles.
“Thanks. I like your hair, too.”
Thank goodness kids don’t hold grudges, because my daughter smiles like she just made a new best friend.
24
“Are you actually reading a book?”
I snap it shut and set it on my stomach, preparing for whatever snarky thing she’s going to say about it.
“Yeah, so what?”
“I guess I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen you with a book before.”
She actually hasn’t. I avoid reading as much as possible, it gives me a headache.
“It’s a rare occurrence, but I have to do it every now and then.”
“Because it’s good for the brain or something?”
I sit up straighter, hearing the judgment in her voice. Does she really think it would be ridiculous if that was my reason? I’m allowed to want to improve myself.
“Not really. This is more like required reading. An assignment, if you will.”
“Says the woman who hasn’t been in school for at least–” she starts counting on her fingers– “seven years.”
I chuckle.
“A friend of mine wrote it, and I never miss the opportunity to support her. She’s really good actually, I can’t even complain. This is her third one, and she keeps getting better.”
“What’s it about?” She’s on her phone, seeming uninterested, but I share anyway.
I really never miss the opportunity.
“This one is about a woman who starts hooking up with her celebrity crush every time he goes on tour. When he’s in her city. It’s kind of sad, actually.”
Kara raises a brow.
“What could be sad about that? Sounds ideal.”
She would think that. Commitment-phobe.
“Because she’s emotionally unavailable, so they only talk in person. Once a year.” She still doesn’t get it. “That means thatall year longthey’re both pining, and sad, and waiting for their next chance.”
I think about not getting to see Kara for an entire year, and it’s awful to even imagine. She might get on my nerves a lot of the time, but she’s also fun. Interesting. Smart. Sexy.
I’m thrilled about how often we can have sex.
“I guess I’d be bummed out if I only saw you once a year,” she says quietly. Almost like she didn’t mean to say the words out loud. Almost like she was reading my mind.
Then she rises from her chair to stand by my side. She holds a hand out in front of me and I take it, squeezing slightly. It’s as much as I’m allowing myself to say. Anything more and she’ll probably go running for the hills.
Suddenly, she drops herself in my lap and I let out anoomphat the surprise of it. Not because she’s heavy, and not because it’s not comfortable.
