Read Online We Will Always Have the Closet by Natalina Reis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Natalina Reis
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and area schools. In the end, she barely had time to do her own errands or take care of herself.
“Saint Petra,” Alina called her teasingly. “You’ve got to make more time for yourself, woman,” she told her. “You need to date and have fun. You’re only thirty-five years old, for God’s sake, and it’s almost like you gave up on life.” She really hadn’t given up; she was only on pause, trying to recuperate from the major disappointment and shock of discovering that the love of her life was a womanizer who cared more about his, admittedly exquisite, art collection than his then wife. She would date again someday, but for now she was content to fill her hours and days with things and activities that didn’t necessarily concern her directly, and consequently could not possibly disappoint her in any way.
There she sat, enjoying the breeze and the faint warmth of the sun, devouring each word from the novel as real food for the soul and just…being. The hours passed without her acknowledgment and her only reminder of the passage of time was the cold coffee that she distractedly gulped down with a frown. “Yikes,” she exclaimed, disgusted. “How long have I been out here?”
“Talking to yourself again, I see,” she heard a familiar voice say behind her. Sam walked around the bench and came to stand before her with that sarcastic smile of his. “You really should try getting some friends. That way you don’t have to talk to yourself anymore. Try it, it’s awesome.”
Unwittingly, she stuck her tongue out at him and immediately felt like a little third grader fighting with another child. “Sorry,” she said with an apologetic shrug, “That was childish and uncalled for. But you are very annoying, though.”
“I have been told that before,” he admitted, gesturing to the space next to her. She waved her permission and he sat down—way too close to her, she thought. “So what are you reading that’s so interesting?”
“ The Distant Hours by Kate Morton,” she replied, lifting up the book so he could have a look. “Have you read it?” He shook his head in reply. “You should try it. It is amazing.”
Sam looked at her, amused by her vehemence. “What’s it about?” he asked. She lifted her eyebrow quizzically, but he seemed to be sincere about his interest. “Really. I want to know.”
Petra embarked in an excited narrative about the book without taking time to breathe. Once in a while, she had to stop and take a deep breath, much to his amusement. “Am I spoiling it for you?”
“Absolutely not.” He assured her with that amazing smile. “I’m having a blast listening to you. Your face just lights up when you’re retelling an exciting part. I think this is better than reading the book. It’s like watching a great movie where all the characters are played by this amazingly beautiful woman.” She blushed. Sam could be so sweet, which was terribly vexing when she was trying so hard not to like him. “Go on.”
The next half hour or so was spent in friendly companionship, Petra telling the story, Sam listening attentively and studying her all the while. When excited about a part of the story, her hands and the rest of her body became animated just as her voice rose an octave to match the thrill of the scene. Sam seemed perfectly content and entertained sitting by her, listening and watching her lively retelling of the story. Time flew by and soon they both noticed that the sun had weakened and that the air was quickly cooling down to temperatures that required further layers of clothing. Petra shivered.
“Have my coat,” Sam immediately said, shaking out of his jacket. “I’m used to cold. I grew up in Canada.”
Petra accepted his offer and slid her small arms into his huge sleeves with gratitude. “Canada? Really?” Her face betrayed her surprise. She would have never guessed. He seemed so American. “Where is your hoose, then? I haven’t noticed an accent at
“Saint Petra,” Alina called her teasingly. “You’ve got to make more time for yourself, woman,” she told her. “You need to date and have fun. You’re only thirty-five years old, for God’s sake, and it’s almost like you gave up on life.” She really hadn’t given up; she was only on pause, trying to recuperate from the major disappointment and shock of discovering that the love of her life was a womanizer who cared more about his, admittedly exquisite, art collection than his then wife. She would date again someday, but for now she was content to fill her hours and days with things and activities that didn’t necessarily concern her directly, and consequently could not possibly disappoint her in any way.
There she sat, enjoying the breeze and the faint warmth of the sun, devouring each word from the novel as real food for the soul and just…being. The hours passed without her acknowledgment and her only reminder of the passage of time was the cold coffee that she distractedly gulped down with a frown. “Yikes,” she exclaimed, disgusted. “How long have I been out here?”
“Talking to yourself again, I see,” she heard a familiar voice say behind her. Sam walked around the bench and came to stand before her with that sarcastic smile of his. “You really should try getting some friends. That way you don’t have to talk to yourself anymore. Try it, it’s awesome.”
Unwittingly, she stuck her tongue out at him and immediately felt like a little third grader fighting with another child. “Sorry,” she said with an apologetic shrug, “That was childish and uncalled for. But you are very annoying, though.”
“I have been told that before,” he admitted, gesturing to the space next to her. She waved her permission and he sat down—way too close to her, she thought. “So what are you reading that’s so interesting?”
“ The Distant Hours by Kate Morton,” she replied, lifting up the book so he could have a look. “Have you read it?” He shook his head in reply. “You should try it. It is amazing.”
Sam looked at her, amused by her vehemence. “What’s it about?” he asked. She lifted her eyebrow quizzically, but he seemed to be sincere about his interest. “Really. I want to know.”
Petra embarked in an excited narrative about the book without taking time to breathe. Once in a while, she had to stop and take a deep breath, much to his amusement. “Am I spoiling it for you?”
“Absolutely not.” He assured her with that amazing smile. “I’m having a blast listening to you. Your face just lights up when you’re retelling an exciting part. I think this is better than reading the book. It’s like watching a great movie where all the characters are played by this amazingly beautiful woman.” She blushed. Sam could be so sweet, which was terribly vexing when she was trying so hard not to like him. “Go on.”
The next half hour or so was spent in friendly companionship, Petra telling the story, Sam listening attentively and studying her all the while. When excited about a part of the story, her hands and the rest of her body became animated just as her voice rose an octave to match the thrill of the scene. Sam seemed perfectly content and entertained sitting by her, listening and watching her lively retelling of the story. Time flew by and soon they both noticed that the sun had weakened and that the air was quickly cooling down to temperatures that required further layers of clothing. Petra shivered.
“Have my coat,” Sam immediately said, shaking out of his jacket. “I’m used to cold. I grew up in Canada.”
Petra accepted his offer and slid her small arms into his huge sleeves with gratitude. “Canada? Really?” Her face betrayed her surprise. She would have never guessed. He seemed so American. “Where is your hoose, then? I haven’t noticed an accent at
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