BooksBarbecue
Back At Dawn
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
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  39. Copyright

I climbed into bed. Carolyn took off her shoes and threw them across the room. I pulled the duvet to my chin.

“I’m sorry,” I said truthfully but without much conviction.

“Oh great, you’re sorry,” she mocked me.

“I am.”

“Why do you insist on being such an asshole?”

“I told you I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

I rolled away from her and pulled the pillow over my head. She turned on the television and said nothing further. When I woke up, the sun had set and Carolyn was in bed beside me. The television was off. I was drowsy and had forgotten about the fight and rolled over and curled around her. Then I remembered, but by then it was too late. I don’t know if she had also forgotten or whether she took my cuddling as a peace offering, but she responded by grabbing my hand and pulling my arm more tightly around her. We didn’t speak of that particular fight again.

4

The next day, on Sunday, Carolyn opened at Starbucks. Together we crawled from bed at four in the morning. Wounded pride still hung in the air between us, but we both seemed intent to ignore it. I kissed her good-bye when she left and then I waited for the café to open. I felt tired and cranky, and even though it was no longer an issue, I was still a little hung over from the fight.

Snow was falling when I left the apartment. The wind howled and the temperature hovered in the low teens even though we were well into March. I had my doubts that winter was ever going to end.

I entered the café. Gene’s words echoed: “You can always go further than you think. You just need to discover what gives you that extra push.” I hadn’t the slightest idea from where that extra push might come.

I dropped the pencil on the legal pad and people-watched. There were two pretty girls sitting a table over. They were dressed in sweatpants and looked as though they had just crawled from bed, talking loudly enough so that I didn’t have to strain to listen.

“I don’t know, he’s just not very good-looking and he’s terrible in bed.”

“So why even try, then?”

“Because he makes a hundred and fifty grand a year.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes.”

“So what’s the problem, then? Hell, if you don’t date him, then I will!”