again
.
"Well, at least you know anybody who walks you home twice is serious about you," he said, as he reached the top.
He turned as he said it, and Min, still two steps down scoping out his rear end, walked into his elbow and clipped herself hard over the eye, knocking herself enough off balance that she tripped back, grabbed the railing, and sat down on the step.
"Oh,
Christ
," he said. "I'm sorry." He bent over her and she warded him off.
"No, no," she said. "My fault. Following too close."
Ouch
, she thought, gingerly feeling the place he'd smacked her.
That's what you get for being shallow and objectifying the beast
.
"Just let me see it," he said, trying to look into her eyes. He put his hand gently on the side of her face to tip her chin up.
"No." She brushed his hand away as her skin started to tingle. "I'm fine. Aside from being part of the seventy-eight percent of women who are attacked by—"
"Oh, cut me a break," he said, straightening. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She stood up again and detoured around him to unlock her door. "You can go now."
"Right." He picked up her hand and shook it once. "Great to meet you, Dobbs. Sorry about the elbow to the head. Have a nice life."
"Oh, I'm going to," Min said. "I'm giving up men and getting a cat." She slipped inside and shut the door in his face before he could say anything else.
Have a nice life. Who is he kidding
?
She turned on her grandmother's china lamp by the door, and her living room sprang into shabby but comforting view. The light on her machine was blinking, and she went over and pressed the button, and then rubbed her temple while she listened.
"Min," her sister's voice said. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't forget the fitting tomorrow. It'll be nice to see you." Diana sounded a little woebegone, which was not like her, and Min replayed the message to hear her again. Something was wrong.
"The Dobbs girls cannot win," she said, and thought about Calvin Morrisey. She went over to her battered mantel and looked over the snow globes lined up there into the tarnished mirror that had once hung in her grandmother's hall. A plain round face, plain brown hair, that's what Cal Morrisey had looked at all night. And now it had a nice bruise. She sighed and picked up the snow globe Bonnie had given her for Christmas, Cinderella and her prince on the steps of their blue castle, doves flying overhead. Cal Morrisey would look right at home on those steps. She, on the other hand, would be asked to try the servant's entrance. "Just not the fairy tale type," she said and put the globe down to go turn on her stereo, hitting the up button until Elvis started to sing "The Devil in Disguise."
"And let's not forget that's what Calvin Morrisey is, Dobbs," she told herself, and went to put arnica on her bruise and take a hot bath to wash the memory of the evening away. At least the part with David in it. There were some moments after David that weren't entirely horrible.
But she definitely wasn't going to see Calvin Morrisey again.
When Cal got to work the next morning, the sun was shining through the tall windows in the loft office, the smell of coffee permeated the room, Roger waved to him from his desk by the window, and Elvis Costello was singing "The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" on the
CD player.
All right,
Cal thought. He dropped a folder on the frosted glass desktop, poured himself a cup of coffee, and pulled out his Aeron chair, ready to make the world a better place for people trapped in business training seminars.
Tony came through the door and slapped him on the back. "Nice going last night. Tell me you won."
"What are you talking about?" Cal said.
"The bet with David," Tony said. "The one about the gray-checked suit. Tell me you won it."
"Sure." Cal dropped into his desk chair. "You saw me leave with her."
"You're right, you're right, I should have had faith. You want to tell David or should I?"
"Tell him what?" Cal turned on his Mac and hit
.
"Well, at least you know anybody who walks you home twice is serious about you," he said, as he reached the top.
He turned as he said it, and Min, still two steps down scoping out his rear end, walked into his elbow and clipped herself hard over the eye, knocking herself enough off balance that she tripped back, grabbed the railing, and sat down on the step.
"Oh,
Christ
," he said. "I'm sorry." He bent over her and she warded him off.
"No, no," she said. "My fault. Following too close."
Ouch
, she thought, gingerly feeling the place he'd smacked her.
That's what you get for being shallow and objectifying the beast
.
"Just let me see it," he said, trying to look into her eyes. He put his hand gently on the side of her face to tip her chin up.
"No." She brushed his hand away as her skin started to tingle. "I'm fine. Aside from being part of the seventy-eight percent of women who are attacked by—"
"Oh, cut me a break," he said, straightening. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She stood up again and detoured around him to unlock her door. "You can go now."
"Right." He picked up her hand and shook it once. "Great to meet you, Dobbs. Sorry about the elbow to the head. Have a nice life."
"Oh, I'm going to," Min said. "I'm giving up men and getting a cat." She slipped inside and shut the door in his face before he could say anything else.
Have a nice life. Who is he kidding
?
She turned on her grandmother's china lamp by the door, and her living room sprang into shabby but comforting view. The light on her machine was blinking, and she went over and pressed the button, and then rubbed her temple while she listened.
"Min," her sister's voice said. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't forget the fitting tomorrow. It'll be nice to see you." Diana sounded a little woebegone, which was not like her, and Min replayed the message to hear her again. Something was wrong.
"The Dobbs girls cannot win," she said, and thought about Calvin Morrisey. She went over to her battered mantel and looked over the snow globes lined up there into the tarnished mirror that had once hung in her grandmother's hall. A plain round face, plain brown hair, that's what Cal Morrisey had looked at all night. And now it had a nice bruise. She sighed and picked up the snow globe Bonnie had given her for Christmas, Cinderella and her prince on the steps of their blue castle, doves flying overhead. Cal Morrisey would look right at home on those steps. She, on the other hand, would be asked to try the servant's entrance. "Just not the fairy tale type," she said and put the globe down to go turn on her stereo, hitting the up button until Elvis started to sing "The Devil in Disguise."
"And let's not forget that's what Calvin Morrisey is, Dobbs," she told herself, and went to put arnica on her bruise and take a hot bath to wash the memory of the evening away. At least the part with David in it. There were some moments after David that weren't entirely horrible.
But she definitely wasn't going to see Calvin Morrisey again.
When Cal got to work the next morning, the sun was shining through the tall windows in the loft office, the smell of coffee permeated the room, Roger waved to him from his desk by the window, and Elvis Costello was singing "The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" on the
CD player.
All right,
Cal thought. He dropped a folder on the frosted glass desktop, poured himself a cup of coffee, and pulled out his Aeron chair, ready to make the world a better place for people trapped in business training seminars.
Tony came through the door and slapped him on the back. "Nice going last night. Tell me you won."
"What are you talking about?" Cal said.
"The bet with David," Tony said. "The one about the gray-checked suit. Tell me you won it."
"Sure." Cal dropped into his desk chair. "You saw me leave with her."
"You're right, you're right, I should have had faith. You want to tell David or should I?"
"Tell him what?" Cal turned on his Mac and hit
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