People like me. But I won’t bother if you continue to act like this.”
He blew air out of his lips. “You only want to be around me for how sad it makes you feel. My arm is gone and yours is not. It’s guilt, Gretchen. Guilt is what everyone feels when they encounter me.”
She shook her head as the shadows passed over her face. “No. It’s not. I thought about what you said earlier. About me not noticing you as anything but part of the wall. And you know what? You’re right; but that doesn’t make me a bad person. I was involved with someone for over a decade. I was in a relationship. I wasn’t supposed to notice other guys. Or boys. Or men. Age doesn’t matter. I was committed to Will. Since I stayed committed and didn’t look around, it could be considered a positive aspect of my personality. Not a rude flaw as you try to spin it. I refuse to apologize for being trustworthy. Or monogamous. Or loyal. I will not be punished for being a good girlfriend.”
Silence thickened the dark between them. He kept his fist clenched and his eyes pinned out the window. Finally, she said softly, “The thing is, you’re also right about something else. It was seeing your missing arm that prompted me to do more than say hello and just pass you in the grocery store, never to see you again. I think you called that right. If not for your amputation, I would have thought it was nice to run into you again and just moved on. I would not have been invited to dinner by Donny, or have any interest in going.”
The car swung into his parents’ driveway. She stopped and turned her body so she was facing him. “The thing is, your amputation was so horrifyingly sad and unfair, that I wanted to do something for you. Anything. Whatever I could do to help you. So, yeah, you’re right; it is pity. I’m sorry if you don’t like that. But the primary reason I came to dinner was because I felt sorry about what happened to you.”
Right on his lips, he wanted to snarl fuck you to her. Instead, he clenched his jaw and kept his gaze focused outside. His entire body froze when he felt something on his leg. Glancing down at her hand, he saw her slender, white, long fingers and painted nails, resting on his knee. “Tony?”
He finally lifted his eyes to hers.
She licked her lips and his focus narrowed onto her tongue. She suddenly lifted her hand off him and smiled as she threw her shoulders back, saying, “The thing is: I don’t feel pity for you now. It’s hard for me to pity you. You won’t even allow me to sympathize. So that’s fine. You don’t have my sympathy. You don’t get my apologies, or my help or my pity. You simply have my attention. Congratulations, Tony, I now give a fuck what happens to you. And unlike your brother or your parents, I don’t think I care about how nice I am anymore.”
No one but Donny ever called Tony out on his bullshit. And not once had he ever heard Gretchen use the F-word. Never. She rarely swore. His eyes found hers, and she suddenly smiled sweetly, but tilted her head, indicating that he should go.
He opened the door handle and got out, almost stumbling from leaving too quickly and not catching his balance. He stared after her car. What the hell did she mean? He had her attention? What was she up to? He didn’t know what to do or think. He shook his head, not believing for five minutes that Gretchen would bother with him past looking at him in her rearview mirror. She never had before. Why would she start now? A missing arm only had so much power when people were busy.
Chapter Seven
The phone rang first thing Saturday morning. Gretchen was barely out of bed, and cutting up a cantaloupe to eat. She answered while still chewing on the juicy fruit.
“Gretchen, I’m in love.”
Vickie. Gretchen grabbed her forehead to relieve the headache suddenly brewing that her sister’s screeching voice and upcoming melodrama would do nothing but exacerbate.
“It’s been less than
He blew air out of his lips. “You only want to be around me for how sad it makes you feel. My arm is gone and yours is not. It’s guilt, Gretchen. Guilt is what everyone feels when they encounter me.”
She shook her head as the shadows passed over her face. “No. It’s not. I thought about what you said earlier. About me not noticing you as anything but part of the wall. And you know what? You’re right; but that doesn’t make me a bad person. I was involved with someone for over a decade. I was in a relationship. I wasn’t supposed to notice other guys. Or boys. Or men. Age doesn’t matter. I was committed to Will. Since I stayed committed and didn’t look around, it could be considered a positive aspect of my personality. Not a rude flaw as you try to spin it. I refuse to apologize for being trustworthy. Or monogamous. Or loyal. I will not be punished for being a good girlfriend.”
Silence thickened the dark between them. He kept his fist clenched and his eyes pinned out the window. Finally, she said softly, “The thing is, you’re also right about something else. It was seeing your missing arm that prompted me to do more than say hello and just pass you in the grocery store, never to see you again. I think you called that right. If not for your amputation, I would have thought it was nice to run into you again and just moved on. I would not have been invited to dinner by Donny, or have any interest in going.”
The car swung into his parents’ driveway. She stopped and turned her body so she was facing him. “The thing is, your amputation was so horrifyingly sad and unfair, that I wanted to do something for you. Anything. Whatever I could do to help you. So, yeah, you’re right; it is pity. I’m sorry if you don’t like that. But the primary reason I came to dinner was because I felt sorry about what happened to you.”
Right on his lips, he wanted to snarl fuck you to her. Instead, he clenched his jaw and kept his gaze focused outside. His entire body froze when he felt something on his leg. Glancing down at her hand, he saw her slender, white, long fingers and painted nails, resting on his knee. “Tony?”
He finally lifted his eyes to hers.
She licked her lips and his focus narrowed onto her tongue. She suddenly lifted her hand off him and smiled as she threw her shoulders back, saying, “The thing is: I don’t feel pity for you now. It’s hard for me to pity you. You won’t even allow me to sympathize. So that’s fine. You don’t have my sympathy. You don’t get my apologies, or my help or my pity. You simply have my attention. Congratulations, Tony, I now give a fuck what happens to you. And unlike your brother or your parents, I don’t think I care about how nice I am anymore.”
No one but Donny ever called Tony out on his bullshit. And not once had he ever heard Gretchen use the F-word. Never. She rarely swore. His eyes found hers, and she suddenly smiled sweetly, but tilted her head, indicating that he should go.
He opened the door handle and got out, almost stumbling from leaving too quickly and not catching his balance. He stared after her car. What the hell did she mean? He had her attention? What was she up to? He didn’t know what to do or think. He shook his head, not believing for five minutes that Gretchen would bother with him past looking at him in her rearview mirror. She never had before. Why would she start now? A missing arm only had so much power when people were busy.
Chapter Seven
The phone rang first thing Saturday morning. Gretchen was barely out of bed, and cutting up a cantaloupe to eat. She answered while still chewing on the juicy fruit.
“Gretchen, I’m in love.”
Vickie. Gretchen grabbed her forehead to relieve the headache suddenly brewing that her sister’s screeching voice and upcoming melodrama would do nothing but exacerbate.
“It’s been less than
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