Read Online Still Life with Elephant by Judy Reene Singer - Free Book Online

his burger and stared me right in the eye. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Neelie. Honest. I thought—things got so crazy—” He fished around for the words. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Don’t give up the bus.”
    â€œWhat bus?”
    He furrowed his brow. “Bus?”
    â€œYou said ‘bus,’” I said.
    â€œI said, Don’t give up on us.” he said. “I messed up. I was a total jerk.” Then, before I could protest, he took my hand into his. I pulled it away.
    â€œNo,” I said. “It’s like cheating on your future wife.”
    â€œHolly and I—” He stopped and gave a weary sigh. “Never mind for now. Listen, did you throw out my passport?”
    â€œPassport?” I mentally sifted through all the stuff that Alana and I had carried to the curb. “Where was it?”
    â€œIn the attic. In the blue suitcase. The front zipper compartment.”
    I hadn’t. Because we jointly owned the suitcases, and because I didn’t think there’d be anything Matt-ish in them.
    â€œCan I come by and get it?”
    I fiddled around with the salad. It was really just romaine lettuce and some goopy dressing with a few croutons, trying hard to resemble the real thing. Maybe Matt’s repentance was like the diner salad, also trying hard to resemble the real thing. Maybe there wassome fiendish plan behind Matt’s offer to help with the house, and it wasn’t as obvious as bad food—maybe he was trying hard to resemble caring and contrite, and then would drop another bomb, like how much Holly-Baby-Hatcher wanted to live in the house. After all, she had seen the bedroom we had once optimistically fixed up for a nursery. The gray ponies I had stenciled all around the walls, with pink and blue halters and sparkles. How could I know what his motives were?
    â€œWhat do you need your passport for?” I asked. “Quickie divorce somewhere, followed by a long honeymoon?” I didn’t want him to know I had spoken to Richie, because Matt’s a very private person. If he thought I was talking to Richie about him, I knew he would shut down and I would totally lose any chance to talk things over with him. Or maybe I had already lost all my chances. Diner food is sometimes hard to figure out.
    â€œNeelie, don’t.” He finished his burger, then took a long drink of his diet soda. “Richie Chiger asked me to help him with something,” he said. “Out of the country. It’ll pay me a lot of money if I go, so I’m going.”
    â€œAnd you can’t tell me?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    He leaned over the table, accidentally catching his shirt pocket in his ketchup. I dipped my napkin into my water glass and offered it to him. “Why not?” I asked again.
    â€œBecause,” he said, looking down at his pocket and swiping hard at it, like a little boy who had just gotten his party clothes dirty, “the trip could be very dangerous.”
    Â 
    He followed me back to the house in his car. As soon as he walked into the house, Grace went crazy, jumping in the air, yelping like a puppy, racing circles through the rooms. I followed him up to the attic, where he found his passport, and was still behind him when he stopped at our bedroom door.
    â€œNothing left?” he asked, peeking inside. “I’m going to need the rest of my jeans. And my heavy stable-boots.”
    â€œNo,” I answered. “It’s all gone.”
    â€œOh,” he said sadly. “Oh.”
    He said nothing else. And I felt terrible.
    I followed him downstairs. He stood at the front door a long time, looking at me, then down at his shoes, then back at me. I knew he wanted to kiss me. I knew it. The truth was, I wanted to kiss him, too—wanted him to hold me and put everything back the way it was—but it was too late. There was, as Reese put it, an elephant