Read Online Monday I Love You by Constance C. Greene - Free Book Online Page A

twenties. When bosoms were out and the fashion was to be flat chested. So women bound their breasts the way Chinese women bound their feet, so they’d be small and useless.
    I’d discovered it was difficult to bind yourself. But there was no one I could ask to help. If I asked Estelle, she’d let it slip. “Grace Schmitt binds her boobs with an Ace bandage,” Estelle would say to anyone who’d listen. Loose lips sink ships, Estelle. Keep your big blabbermouth shut, why don’t you. But Estelle couldn’t. She was incapable of keeping her mouth shut. And, as she was my only friend, I’d have to learn to bind myself.
    I put my sunglasses in my pocket. I’d bought the biggest, roundest sunglasses I could find. They covered half my face. I liked to think they made me invisible. If you can’t see a person’s eyes, you can’t really see the person. The lenses were pale blue. I hoped they lent me an air of mystery, as if I were a big superstar or a photojournalist.
    â€œI’m off,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
    Fuzzy slippers slapping as she crossed to the sink, my mother didn’t answer. I let myself out and stood quietly behind some bushes as the school bus stopped for pickup and thundered past. Then I set out, walking purposefully. I tried to walk as if I was thin; feet stepping high, stomach in, shoulders back. Light as a feather. There are always ways to deceive yourself.
    A red Subaru pulled up beside me. I knew it was Govoni. I didn’t feel like talking to anybody, but I had to stop. It would’ve been rude not to.
    â€œHop in,” Ms. Govoni said. “I’m going your way.”
    â€œI’m headed for the library,” I said, feeling blood rush to my face. “I have this paper I have to write. And research. I’m not going to school today.” If she didn’t like it, she could lump it, I decided.
    â€œOkay. I’ll drop you off there, then.” She patted the seat. “Just push the mess out of your way.” The seat was littered with candy wrappers, broken crayons and some plastic ears and noses from Mr. Potato Head. It probably was like that the other time I’d been in the car, but I hadn’t noticed.
    â€œIt wouldn’t take a detective to decide there were kids in this family,” Ms. Govoni said. “They leave their trademarks everywhere.”
    â€œI didn’t know you had a kid,” I said. “Until you called, that is.”
    â€œTwo,” she said. “A boy and a girl.”
    â€œThat’s nice.” What about the stories that said Ms. Govoni liked girls better than boys?
    â€œWhich do you like better?” I asked. “Girls or boys?”
    â€œIt’s a toss-up,” she said. “They’re both young and pesky. When they get older and much peskier, maybe I’ll make up my mind. It’s nice having both.”
    It wasn’t like driving with Estelle. Ms. Govoni kept her eyes on the road at all times, except when we were stopped at a red light.
    â€œI’m glad I ran into you, Grace,” Ms. Govoni said, frowning at her windshield. “I expect you’re going through a bad patch right now.” Little did she know.
    â€œI’ve been through some myself. It’s no fun. But I’ll put my money on you. You’ll survive, maybe even be stronger because of it. If you want to talk, remember, I’m a good listener. Best thing about me is, I never tell. My mother used to call me old zipper mouth.”
    We pulled up in front of the library. She turned to look at me, and I noticed how dark and kind her eyes were. How filled with compassion they were. Then, because I was embarrassed, because of what she knew about me, what I’d told her about Ashley in the girls’ room, I said, to fill the empty space with words, “What does your husband do?”
    Asinine question.
    â€œI don’t have one,” she