Dave,” she began. The muscle in his arm tightened beneath her grip. “I’ve had a lovely
time tonight, really. I’m glad I didn’t go to the Stork Club.”
His arm relaxed and he smiled at her. “Me too.”
Dave headed west, the streetlamps passing by like lighthouse beacons. Only the sound of the
groaning engine filled the car with its mechanical conversation. Bonnie stared out the window. She
wished she’d listened to the warning, stopped the evening before it began.
Dave approached an intersection and the stoplight turned yellow. He slowed the car and then
studied Bonnie. “Did I do something wrong?”
Again, Bonnie pulled away from the window. “No, why do you think that?”
Dave shrugged a shoulder and reached into his coat for a cigarette. “Idon’t know. It seemed like
we were having a nice time and then all of a sudden, I don’t know, you just got quiet.”
Bonnie stifled a yawn. “Did I? I’m sorry. I spent the day searching for an apartment. I guess I’m
more tired than I thought.”
“You had me worried for a second, because I’d really like to see you again, Bonnie.”
I should know better…it’s dangerous to get involved…especially now. “That would be all right, but give me
some time to get settled in my new place, okay? And just to be fair, Dave, I’m not really over the
death of my fiancé. I wouldn’t—”
“It’s okay, Bonnie. We’ll just be friends. And to be honest, I’m not really over my divorce,
either.”
Bonnie saw the lighted sign of the Rome Hotel come into focus. Dave stopped the car and set
the hand brake. He left the engine idling and ran around to open Bonnie’s door. She was already
halfway out of the car by the time he got there. “Good night, Dave.”
He stood there, his mouth slightly ajar. “Can I call you?”
Bonnie stepped onto the sidewalk. “Idon’t have a phone.”
He followed her like a hunting dog. “What about your work number?”
Bonnie turned back to him and clasped her handbag in front of her. “I just started. I can’t
remember it.”
“What’s the name of the law firm? I can get the number from the operator.”
“Listen,” she said placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call you at Checker when I get settled
and let you know, okay?”
Dave seemed to deflate before her eyes. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets as his
shoulders fell. “I get it.”
“No, really, I’ll call.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
Dave backed away afterward, his hands still in his pockets. “Good night, Bonnie.”
Chapter 5
The dream was a jumble of vignettes, glimpses of her mother, fleeting moments long past. She
dreamed about the time when she was five years old and her mother was cowered on the floor, her
arms shielding her head. She’d run to her mother’s side and glared up at her father with squinted
eyes and bold courage. “Don’t hit my mama!” she yelled with defiance. Her father laughed and
swatted her away like an annoying gnat.
In her dream, this time the outcome had been different. She’d flung her adult self at her father,
beating him with her fists, pounding at his head again and again. Her assault was relentless; her anger
so heated she felt as though she could annihilate him with the very fire of it. But there was no blood,
damage, or evidence of any victory. Instead, he laughed at her attempts to wound him, repelling her
attack with casual indifference.
Bonnie’s eyes flew open with a start, her fists gnarled into tight bundles of frustration. Her heart
drummed out a wild rhythm in her chest as she tried to focus in the dim light of her hotel room. She
sat up and eased her breathing, calming herself from the dream.
An urgent need to hear her mother’s voice began to rise within her, feeding upon the disturbed
remnants of her past. Bonnie had to call, had to absorb that tiny bit of reassurance she might find in
speaking to her mother.
She lifted the handset, asked for a long-distance operator,
time tonight, really. I’m glad I didn’t go to the Stork Club.”
His arm relaxed and he smiled at her. “Me too.”
Dave headed west, the streetlamps passing by like lighthouse beacons. Only the sound of the
groaning engine filled the car with its mechanical conversation. Bonnie stared out the window. She
wished she’d listened to the warning, stopped the evening before it began.
Dave approached an intersection and the stoplight turned yellow. He slowed the car and then
studied Bonnie. “Did I do something wrong?”
Again, Bonnie pulled away from the window. “No, why do you think that?”
Dave shrugged a shoulder and reached into his coat for a cigarette. “Idon’t know. It seemed like
we were having a nice time and then all of a sudden, I don’t know, you just got quiet.”
Bonnie stifled a yawn. “Did I? I’m sorry. I spent the day searching for an apartment. I guess I’m
more tired than I thought.”
“You had me worried for a second, because I’d really like to see you again, Bonnie.”
I should know better…it’s dangerous to get involved…especially now. “That would be all right, but give me
some time to get settled in my new place, okay? And just to be fair, Dave, I’m not really over the
death of my fiancé. I wouldn’t—”
“It’s okay, Bonnie. We’ll just be friends. And to be honest, I’m not really over my divorce,
either.”
Bonnie saw the lighted sign of the Rome Hotel come into focus. Dave stopped the car and set
the hand brake. He left the engine idling and ran around to open Bonnie’s door. She was already
halfway out of the car by the time he got there. “Good night, Dave.”
He stood there, his mouth slightly ajar. “Can I call you?”
Bonnie stepped onto the sidewalk. “Idon’t have a phone.”
He followed her like a hunting dog. “What about your work number?”
Bonnie turned back to him and clasped her handbag in front of her. “I just started. I can’t
remember it.”
“What’s the name of the law firm? I can get the number from the operator.”
“Listen,” she said placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call you at Checker when I get settled
and let you know, okay?”
Dave seemed to deflate before her eyes. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets as his
shoulders fell. “I get it.”
“No, really, I’ll call.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
Dave backed away afterward, his hands still in his pockets. “Good night, Bonnie.”
Chapter 5
The dream was a jumble of vignettes, glimpses of her mother, fleeting moments long past. She
dreamed about the time when she was five years old and her mother was cowered on the floor, her
arms shielding her head. She’d run to her mother’s side and glared up at her father with squinted
eyes and bold courage. “Don’t hit my mama!” she yelled with defiance. Her father laughed and
swatted her away like an annoying gnat.
In her dream, this time the outcome had been different. She’d flung her adult self at her father,
beating him with her fists, pounding at his head again and again. Her assault was relentless; her anger
so heated she felt as though she could annihilate him with the very fire of it. But there was no blood,
damage, or evidence of any victory. Instead, he laughed at her attempts to wound him, repelling her
attack with casual indifference.
Bonnie’s eyes flew open with a start, her fists gnarled into tight bundles of frustration. Her heart
drummed out a wild rhythm in her chest as she tried to focus in the dim light of her hotel room. She
sat up and eased her breathing, calming herself from the dream.
An urgent need to hear her mother’s voice began to rise within her, feeding upon the disturbed
remnants of her past. Bonnie had to call, had to absorb that tiny bit of reassurance she might find in
speaking to her mother.
She lifted the handset, asked for a long-distance operator,
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