Patricia Gaffney
“How do you know anything? You don’t know anything about me.”
“Veterinary medicine? You’re right, I don’t know anything about you.”
We glare, him stiff and foursquare, me practically on tiptoes, until Andrew realizes people coming out of Isabel’s are listening to us—something I knew all along; who cares?—and turns away. “This is futile,” he says with dignity. “And it’s not getting us anywhere. Dash, come home with me now. Just come home.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t like the way things are. And...—it’s not just you, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“It’s not. It’s all kinds of things. It’s me. I have to do something to fix myself, and I have to be by myself to figure out what.”
This time I don’t blame him for looking skeptical. I’m not a loner; I usually find myself, on the rare occasions when I’ve been lost, by gathering the people I love closer, not pushing them away. But this, whatever “this” is, is different. I have to hibernate.MoreLess
“Veterinary medicine? You’re right, I don’t know anything about you.”
We glare, him stiff and foursquare, me practically on tiptoes, until Andrew realizes people coming out of Isabel’s are listening to us—something I knew all along; who cares?—and turns away. “This is futile,” he says with dignity. “And it’s not getting us anywhere. Dash, come home with me now. Just come home.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t like the way things are. And...—it’s not just you, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“It’s not. It’s all kinds of things. It’s me. I have to do something to fix myself, and I have to be by myself to figure out what.”
This time I don’t blame him for looking skeptical. I’m not a loner; I usually find myself, on the rare occasions when I’ve been lost, by gathering the people I love closer, not pushing them away. But this, whatever “this” is, is different. I have to hibernate.MoreLess
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