“Dude, where’s that hot lady?” Rooster asked.
I shrugged. “How would I know?”
“I think she wants to do you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said.
“I’m serious, man. I see the way she stares at you.”
“Whatever.”
Roo ster went back to Colorado and still Mrs. Flanagan didn’t come back for another
three days. When she returned she told me that her mother-in-law had died.
“Sorry,” I said.
“I don’t give a shit. The worst part was seeing my a -hole ex- husband.”
The only thing she ever told me about her ex-husband was that he had a trick where he
could twist his knuckles in such a way that they could almost line up flat on top of each other. I
never really understood the logistics of it but after asking her several times to explain it, I just
let it go. But not before adding that I didn’t see how that was such a trick. What was it good
for? “He could never be properly handcuffed,” she said.
“Is that a necessary skill for people?”
“He was a true son of a bitch,” she said, as i f that explained everything.
I had that feeling again, that the life she’d lived was something way beyond me, a thing
I couldn’t hope to ever understand. An occasional conversation, hanging out at the pool, sex.
That was all it would ever be. I still had my life to shape, everything was ahead of me. For her,
everything looked backward.
“You coming over later?” she asked.
“I have something to do, actually.”
16
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