Sundays. Or listen to tapes. I haven’t bought any new music in ages, though.”
“You would be very, very stupid not to let me loan you some tapes.”
“My daddy didn’t raise no stupid girl. I’d love to borrow anything.” Shay smiled and was caught unexpectedly by a yawn that left tears in her eyes. “Jeez, excuse me. I’ll wake up in about two hours. My tapes are getting so worn I can’t listen to them in the Walkman when I go for a run.”
“How do you find energy to go running?” Now Anthea knew where Shay got those rock-hard calves.
“I haven’t lately. I’m getting out of shape for it. I used to run the four-forty in high school. And I was damned good with a javelin considering my height.”
Anthea had a sudden vision of Shay, in running shorts and a tank top, gathering herself for the short run, then leaping, arm extending gracefully, her body arching with the force of her throw. Surprised, she felt a surge of something… feelings she didn’t want to name. Feelings she thought Paula would have drained for quite some time to come. Just remembering how… abandoned she’d been made her tingle.
Anthea turned up the traffic report and only
after it was over did she feel courageous enough to say, “Don’t you think it’s long odds that we are both lesbians and ended up in the same car pool?”
Shay didn’t answer, so Anthea glanced over. She was asleep. Anthea sighed. It had seemed like a big step to actually say the L-word to Shay. Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. Just to be sure that Shay knew she wasn’t bisexual or just curious or desperate or something.
She let her sleep.
5 Acceleration
Shay managed a mumbled greeting and a muttered remark about the cold wind. Anthea pressed the control to increase the heat in the car, even though she told herself it was absurd to have to. It was June, for heaven’s sake. Ah well.
“Welcome to summer in the Bay Area,” she said aloud. “The tourists are arriving and the fog has come in just for them. Did you have a good night?”
Shay glared at Anthea for a moment, then said
in a low, threatening tone, “Anthea, I’m warning you, perk down or else.”
“I see,” Anthea said. “Not a good night at all.”
“Let’s just say that if I ever see a pizza again, I’ll throw up.”
Shay seemed more human once they were headed south on 880. She dozed for a while, then sat up, seemingly more alert. Anthea said, “You know, considering the way you feel about pizza, I’m surprised you want free pepperoni.”
“I give it to my upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Giordano. The name says it all.”
“What does she do with it?”
“She makes pizza and other delectable concoctions on Sundays. All day Sunday. If you want something to eat, you just drop in. No questions asked, no need to pay her. She must be keeping twenty or thirty old people in the HUD project down the street alive with her Sunday meals.”
Anthea thought about her huge savings account balance. Her paid-for house. Her paid-for car. Mrs. Giordano filling people’s plates all day Sunday. “What a wonderful thing,” she said softly.
“I used to help her, but lately she won’t let me. She says a nice Japanese girl like me doesn’t know how to make pizza anyway. I keep telling her I’m a fourth-generation American, but she just shakes her head. She came to this country about thirty years ago and says she’ll always be Italian and I’ll always be Japanese and that is what being an American means.” Shay laughed fondly. “Sometimes she mixes the leftover pizza sauce into spaghetti sauce and we have it over noodles I make. She says Japanese girls make good noodles because we invented them.” Shay
laughed again. “I keep telling her that the Chinese invented noodles. She’s a very sweet lady. She knows I’m religiously unaffiliated, so she keeps hoping I’ll become a Catholic. She’s amazing she’s even been encouraging me to, uh, test drive.”
Anthea
“You would be very, very stupid not to let me loan you some tapes.”
“My daddy didn’t raise no stupid girl. I’d love to borrow anything.” Shay smiled and was caught unexpectedly by a yawn that left tears in her eyes. “Jeez, excuse me. I’ll wake up in about two hours. My tapes are getting so worn I can’t listen to them in the Walkman when I go for a run.”
“How do you find energy to go running?” Now Anthea knew where Shay got those rock-hard calves.
“I haven’t lately. I’m getting out of shape for it. I used to run the four-forty in high school. And I was damned good with a javelin considering my height.”
Anthea had a sudden vision of Shay, in running shorts and a tank top, gathering herself for the short run, then leaping, arm extending gracefully, her body arching with the force of her throw. Surprised, she felt a surge of something… feelings she didn’t want to name. Feelings she thought Paula would have drained for quite some time to come. Just remembering how… abandoned she’d been made her tingle.
Anthea turned up the traffic report and only
after it was over did she feel courageous enough to say, “Don’t you think it’s long odds that we are both lesbians and ended up in the same car pool?”
Shay didn’t answer, so Anthea glanced over. She was asleep. Anthea sighed. It had seemed like a big step to actually say the L-word to Shay. Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. Just to be sure that Shay knew she wasn’t bisexual or just curious or desperate or something.
She let her sleep.
5 Acceleration
Shay managed a mumbled greeting and a muttered remark about the cold wind. Anthea pressed the control to increase the heat in the car, even though she told herself it was absurd to have to. It was June, for heaven’s sake. Ah well.
“Welcome to summer in the Bay Area,” she said aloud. “The tourists are arriving and the fog has come in just for them. Did you have a good night?”
Shay glared at Anthea for a moment, then said
in a low, threatening tone, “Anthea, I’m warning you, perk down or else.”
“I see,” Anthea said. “Not a good night at all.”
“Let’s just say that if I ever see a pizza again, I’ll throw up.”
Shay seemed more human once they were headed south on 880. She dozed for a while, then sat up, seemingly more alert. Anthea said, “You know, considering the way you feel about pizza, I’m surprised you want free pepperoni.”
“I give it to my upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Giordano. The name says it all.”
“What does she do with it?”
“She makes pizza and other delectable concoctions on Sundays. All day Sunday. If you want something to eat, you just drop in. No questions asked, no need to pay her. She must be keeping twenty or thirty old people in the HUD project down the street alive with her Sunday meals.”
Anthea thought about her huge savings account balance. Her paid-for house. Her paid-for car. Mrs. Giordano filling people’s plates all day Sunday. “What a wonderful thing,” she said softly.
“I used to help her, but lately she won’t let me. She says a nice Japanese girl like me doesn’t know how to make pizza anyway. I keep telling her I’m a fourth-generation American, but she just shakes her head. She came to this country about thirty years ago and says she’ll always be Italian and I’ll always be Japanese and that is what being an American means.” Shay laughed fondly. “Sometimes she mixes the leftover pizza sauce into spaghetti sauce and we have it over noodles I make. She says Japanese girls make good noodles because we invented them.” Shay
laughed again. “I keep telling her that the Chinese invented noodles. She’s a very sweet lady. She knows I’m religiously unaffiliated, so she keeps hoping I’ll become a Catholic. She’s amazing she’s even been encouraging me to, uh, test drive.”
Anthea
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