Read Online I'll Love You When You're More Like Me by M.E. Kerr - Free Book Online Page A

the world, and I was telling him back: You don’t have to. If you don’t want to, there’s Wylie, or Warren or Wilbur, or . . . on and on.
    â€œHow’s my grandmother doing?” Ethel Lingerman said while Charlie held open the car door for her. She was carrying an open can of Schlitz, and she flopped herself down on the front seat of Charlie’s small red Fiat.
    â€œHi Harriet. Hi Wally. Well? How’s she doing?”
    â€œShe’s resting comfortably,” I said. “She’s gone to her great reward.”
    â€œIs a cat sleeping with her?” Ethel asked.
    â€œNo, the dog from next door is,” I said.
    â€œThe rumor is cats sleep in your coffins with the dead people,” Ethel said, taking a long swallow of beer.
    â€œPork Chop died last year and Corned Beef was run over by our ambulance this spring,” I said. “So that just leaves Gorilla.”
    â€œI hope he’s not in with my grandmother because she hates cats.”
    â€œIt’s not a he, it’s a she,” I said. “Your grandmother won’t even notice.”
    â€œI think it’s high time we stopped making these sorts of jokes,” said Harriet. “These sorts of jokes are in very poor taste.”
    â€œGet her,” Ethel said to Charlie. “It’s my grandmother.”
    Ethel was a Clairol redhead in a pair of tight red slacks with some kind of pink halter above them which exposed her middle and pinned back her enormous melon-shaped breasts. She had two pairs of earrings on each ear, one which dangled down past her hair, one rhinestone stars that nestled against her lobes. She had on a lot of blusher, and gobs of gooey black mascara, plus eyeliner.
    Harriet became suddenly vastly interested in the scenery as we rode toward The Surf Club, staring at it intently while she pulled at her fingers in her lap. Charlie started a long monologue on Dance Day, which was a tradition every year at the end of the summer in Seaville. The Kings and Queens of Dance were crowned the evening of Dance Day;all day long there were dances of every kind performed on the village green. Charlie was trying to whip up some interest in the contest; Charlie was always trying to be someone in Seaville besides The Resident Fairy.
    â€œI’d like to think of a superoriginal dance to perform,” said Charlie.
    â€œBoy, will my grandmother roll over in her grave when she knows I was out with you tonight,” said Ethel. “Where’d you get the car?”
    â€œI saved for it,” Charlie said. He worked for Loude’s Landscaping, digging holes and planting trees for six dollars an hour.
    â€œI hear Lauralei Rabinowitz and Maury Posner are going to do the Charleston in that contest,” said Ethel. “Do you ever see Lauralei around anymore, Wally?”
    â€œThat’s all over with,” said Harriet, grabbing my hand with the fingers she’d been pulling, to prove it.
    â€œI wasn’t asking you,” said Ethel. “I was asking Wally.”
    Harriet stabbed my stomach with her elbow, holding my hand in a viselike grip. “That’s all over with,” I said.
    â€œOh my my my, we have a parrot along with us this evening,” said Ethel. She thrust her can of Schlitz back under my nose. “Polly want a beer?”
    â€œPolly would probably catch something grotesque from that beer can,” said Harriet.
    â€œPolly would probably catch something grotesque from that beer can,” I said.
    Ethel slapped her knee and laughed and held the beer can up to her mouth, swallowing chug-a-lug.
    â€œDon’t play into her hands that way,” Harriet whispered to me. “What’s the matter with you, anyway, Wally?”
    â€œEvery time I eat at your house I get confused,” I said. “I feel like I’m going to suffocate or something.”
    â€œWe won’t eat with our kids,” Harriet told me. “I don’t like a