Read Online A Dangerous Age by Ellen Gilchrist - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellen Gilchrist
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maybe it’s the new vitamins I got in the mail from Andrew Weil, or maybe it’s just this damn election.
“Where are you going when you leave here?” Bobby asked. “Come have coffee with me. I’ve been missing you. Every time I read the paper, I think of you and how proud I am of everything you do.”
“Okay.” That’s what I said. Words were never a big deal between me and Bobby Tree.
“I’ll wait out here in the hall,” he said.
“Look at the pictures,” I said. “There’s a fast, fat squirrel you’d really like.”
S O I VOTE and turn in my ballot, and ten minutes later I’m at Alfred’s Coffee Nook, eating sweet rolls and crying on Bobby’s shoulder about every goddamn thing in the world. An hour after that I’m screwing him, and then I was three hours late to the office on Election Day and I didn’t even apologize or give a damn. The last editor of this paper was a staggering drunk and didn’t show up one-tenth as much as I usually do. I’m sick of the election anyway. Who gives a rat’s ass which political party is at the trough?
“There’ll be a real attack now,” Bobby said, and I believed it when he said it because I believed it anyway.
“As soon as this election’s over, they’ll attack, and this time there’ll be a nuclear element. No one can protect a country as free and open as the United States. They’ve got so many Mexicans in Oklahoma now you can’t count them, and even more in northwest Arkansas. And Muslims in all the colleges. Plus any black or white kids that are pissed off and want to do damage. I just pray it will be in a city. After that, there’s an outside chance the United States will wake up and get serious about protecting itself. I hate to tell you that, but you asked me what I wasthinking.” He sat back on the bed, his body as beautiful and tanned as it had been when he was young, his black eyes boring into me, loving me. The most seductive thing about Bobby is he really loves me, no matter what happens; I never doubt that.
“Things are going well at work,” he said. “You ought to come out sometime and see the things I’m building at the old fair-grounds.”
“I will,” I said, knowing I probably wouldn’t do it. Nothing ever came of Bobby and me fucking each other. We’d been too many miles together and the trip had been too rocky.
S O ANYWAY, THAT ’s how I spent the first week in November, fucking both of my old boyfriends, which is really unusual because I haven’t been fucking anyone much for a year. William Finney is mostly talk. Feast or famine. Don’t judge me on my sexual behavior this one week. Most of the time I live like a nun and work twenty hours a day and give to charity and try not to hate my fellow man. Olivia de Havilland Hand, remember me. My story is far from over.
Things are also far from over between me and Bobby Tree, who started off loving each other in the days when we were just branching up to be real human beings.
The election happened. Nothing came of it except the usual. Life went on. I worked all Thanksgiving Day and went out Thanksgiving night to see a movie my crew had been begging me to see—a film called
Sideways
, which they all thought was hilarious because of a scene with an actor we know from Mississippirunning naked down a street, trying to catch his wife’s lover.
I had hardly taken my place in the ticket line when I saw Bobby a few places in front of me, wearing his old blue and black plaid flannel jacket, his black hair curling all over his head.
“Twice in one month,” I told him. “I guess that settles it.”
“I’ll buy you a ticket,” he answered. “What do you want to eat?”
We bought buttered popcorn and Diet Cokes and went inside and watched the film, and then we went to my house and spent the night.
“I used to know how to be happy,” I told him. “And so did you. What’s happened to us?”
“I’ve loved you all my life, Olivia. I’ll always love you. All you got to
“Where are you going when you leave here?” Bobby asked. “Come have coffee with me. I’ve been missing you. Every time I read the paper, I think of you and how proud I am of everything you do.”
“Okay.” That’s what I said. Words were never a big deal between me and Bobby Tree.
“I’ll wait out here in the hall,” he said.
“Look at the pictures,” I said. “There’s a fast, fat squirrel you’d really like.”
S O I VOTE and turn in my ballot, and ten minutes later I’m at Alfred’s Coffee Nook, eating sweet rolls and crying on Bobby’s shoulder about every goddamn thing in the world. An hour after that I’m screwing him, and then I was three hours late to the office on Election Day and I didn’t even apologize or give a damn. The last editor of this paper was a staggering drunk and didn’t show up one-tenth as much as I usually do. I’m sick of the election anyway. Who gives a rat’s ass which political party is at the trough?
“There’ll be a real attack now,” Bobby said, and I believed it when he said it because I believed it anyway.
“As soon as this election’s over, they’ll attack, and this time there’ll be a nuclear element. No one can protect a country as free and open as the United States. They’ve got so many Mexicans in Oklahoma now you can’t count them, and even more in northwest Arkansas. And Muslims in all the colleges. Plus any black or white kids that are pissed off and want to do damage. I just pray it will be in a city. After that, there’s an outside chance the United States will wake up and get serious about protecting itself. I hate to tell you that, but you asked me what I wasthinking.” He sat back on the bed, his body as beautiful and tanned as it had been when he was young, his black eyes boring into me, loving me. The most seductive thing about Bobby is he really loves me, no matter what happens; I never doubt that.
“Things are going well at work,” he said. “You ought to come out sometime and see the things I’m building at the old fair-grounds.”
“I will,” I said, knowing I probably wouldn’t do it. Nothing ever came of Bobby and me fucking each other. We’d been too many miles together and the trip had been too rocky.
S O ANYWAY, THAT ’s how I spent the first week in November, fucking both of my old boyfriends, which is really unusual because I haven’t been fucking anyone much for a year. William Finney is mostly talk. Feast or famine. Don’t judge me on my sexual behavior this one week. Most of the time I live like a nun and work twenty hours a day and give to charity and try not to hate my fellow man. Olivia de Havilland Hand, remember me. My story is far from over.
Things are also far from over between me and Bobby Tree, who started off loving each other in the days when we were just branching up to be real human beings.
The election happened. Nothing came of it except the usual. Life went on. I worked all Thanksgiving Day and went out Thanksgiving night to see a movie my crew had been begging me to see—a film called
Sideways
, which they all thought was hilarious because of a scene with an actor we know from Mississippirunning naked down a street, trying to catch his wife’s lover.
I had hardly taken my place in the ticket line when I saw Bobby a few places in front of me, wearing his old blue and black plaid flannel jacket, his black hair curling all over his head.
“Twice in one month,” I told him. “I guess that settles it.”
“I’ll buy you a ticket,” he answered. “What do you want to eat?”
We bought buttered popcorn and Diet Cokes and went inside and watched the film, and then we went to my house and spent the night.
“I used to know how to be happy,” I told him. “And so did you. What’s happened to us?”
“I’ve loved you all my life, Olivia. I’ll always love you. All you got to
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