Read Online Swimming Sweet Arrow by Maureen Gibbon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maureen Gibbon
Ads: Link
from my face, running his hand from my temple to my neck, moving his fingers through the length. He played with my hair and kept touching my face and lips for the longest time, and then he said, Vangie.
When he said my name, I knew that he felt the thing without words, too.
9
W ITH working and people’s different work schedules, it was almost the end of the summer before I saw June alone. Del and I had gone out to party with her and Ray a few times, and when we finally moved into our place in August, they had come over to our house a time or two. But June and I had not had a chance to talk, just the two of us, for a long time, and one night she called and said I had to come over.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. I just feel like talking.”
So I drove all the winding roads from Mennonite Townto Church’s Mountain, passing all the houses where, when it was daylight, I’d see wash lines with white net caps and blue shirts twisting in the breeze. When I got to June’s place, before I even got out of the car, two dogs came tearing up to see who I was. I was trying to keep them off of me, and then I heard June’s voice, calling them.
“They’re Luke’s,” she said when I got to her front door. “I should have warned you.”
“Where were they every other time?”
“They have a kennel out back. They’re mostly friendly, but there’s no way for you to know that.”
Because of all the commotion with the dogs, it was the first time I really looked at her face. She seemed the same as always. That surprised me, though I didn’t know why.
“Come on in. I’ll tie them up while you’re visiting.”
When I walked in the door, I saw the Jim Beam was already on the table. It seemed strange to me only for a second. Jim Beam was not the sort of thing June and I would ever drink on our own—we were the ones who always used to want something sweet to drink when we went parking with Ray and Del. Jim Beam was the kind of thing Ray would drink, and he would want June to be able to drink it, too. I knew because Del thought I should at least be able to drink a shot of Southern Comfort, even if I didn’t like it, just to show people I wasn’t a candy-ass.
I had to work breakfast shift the next day, but I poured a shot anyway. I didn’t want to give in to the feeling that I was getting mature about my drinking, and I wanted to keep June company.
When June came in from tying up the dogs, I said, “So, how’s it going out here?”
She looked around at the old cabinets and the linoleum that was a design of baskets, and back to me at the kitchen table, and she said, “All right, it’s all right.”
We laughed, and I thought I knew what she meant: that nothing but nothing was what it was cracked up to be. Living with a guy wasn’t all romance and sex—it was also cleaning and cooking and paying bills. At least that’s what I thought her look signified, and it was my feeling that whatever made her get the Jim Beam out wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.
“No, really, it’s all right,” she said, and she shook her head a little when she said it, because I think she knew how her face must have looked. I was expecting bad news, and I was still expecting it when she said, “Well, Ray’s gone and done it.”
She went to a dish on the countertop, near the sink, and picked up a ring and slipped it on her finger.
“Garnet with a diamond chip on each side,” she said, and showed me the ring.
I took her fingers in mine and studied the deep red stone. It wasn’t some chintzy, pre-engagement job but a real, full-fledged ring.
“It’s pretty,” I said, and meant it. The garnet wasn’t small, and the way the ring suited June’s hand made me think that Ray had spent time not only finding the ring, but also thinking about how it would look against June’s skin. Or so it seemed to me.
“It is pretty.”
She looked at the ring again on her hand, then she took it off and put it back in the dish on the
When he said my name, I knew that he felt the thing without words, too.
9
W ITH working and people’s different work schedules, it was almost the end of the summer before I saw June alone. Del and I had gone out to party with her and Ray a few times, and when we finally moved into our place in August, they had come over to our house a time or two. But June and I had not had a chance to talk, just the two of us, for a long time, and one night she called and said I had to come over.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. I just feel like talking.”
So I drove all the winding roads from Mennonite Townto Church’s Mountain, passing all the houses where, when it was daylight, I’d see wash lines with white net caps and blue shirts twisting in the breeze. When I got to June’s place, before I even got out of the car, two dogs came tearing up to see who I was. I was trying to keep them off of me, and then I heard June’s voice, calling them.
“They’re Luke’s,” she said when I got to her front door. “I should have warned you.”
“Where were they every other time?”
“They have a kennel out back. They’re mostly friendly, but there’s no way for you to know that.”
Because of all the commotion with the dogs, it was the first time I really looked at her face. She seemed the same as always. That surprised me, though I didn’t know why.
“Come on in. I’ll tie them up while you’re visiting.”
When I walked in the door, I saw the Jim Beam was already on the table. It seemed strange to me only for a second. Jim Beam was not the sort of thing June and I would ever drink on our own—we were the ones who always used to want something sweet to drink when we went parking with Ray and Del. Jim Beam was the kind of thing Ray would drink, and he would want June to be able to drink it, too. I knew because Del thought I should at least be able to drink a shot of Southern Comfort, even if I didn’t like it, just to show people I wasn’t a candy-ass.
I had to work breakfast shift the next day, but I poured a shot anyway. I didn’t want to give in to the feeling that I was getting mature about my drinking, and I wanted to keep June company.
When June came in from tying up the dogs, I said, “So, how’s it going out here?”
She looked around at the old cabinets and the linoleum that was a design of baskets, and back to me at the kitchen table, and she said, “All right, it’s all right.”
We laughed, and I thought I knew what she meant: that nothing but nothing was what it was cracked up to be. Living with a guy wasn’t all romance and sex—it was also cleaning and cooking and paying bills. At least that’s what I thought her look signified, and it was my feeling that whatever made her get the Jim Beam out wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.
“No, really, it’s all right,” she said, and she shook her head a little when she said it, because I think she knew how her face must have looked. I was expecting bad news, and I was still expecting it when she said, “Well, Ray’s gone and done it.”
She went to a dish on the countertop, near the sink, and picked up a ring and slipped it on her finger.
“Garnet with a diamond chip on each side,” she said, and showed me the ring.
I took her fingers in mine and studied the deep red stone. It wasn’t some chintzy, pre-engagement job but a real, full-fledged ring.
“It’s pretty,” I said, and meant it. The garnet wasn’t small, and the way the ring suited June’s hand made me think that Ray had spent time not only finding the ring, but also thinking about how it would look against June’s skin. Or so it seemed to me.
“It is pretty.”
She looked at the ring again on her hand, then she took it off and put it back in the dish on the
Similar Books
