weight of the garbage bag, the cut began to throb, and there were about seventy-five things I had to do before I could retire for my much-needed preparty nap.
‘It wasn’t important anyway,’ Cully said, and started the pickup bucking along the road.
We were halfway home when I turned to him and said with absolute honesty, ‘Cully Houghton, you are one of the most aggravating and frustrating people I have ever known.’
He looked considerably surprised, as well he might. I think it was the first time I’d ever said something really personal to Cully.
‘That’s interesting,’ he said after a moment.
We didn’t speak again; but oddly enough, the silence wasn’t uneasy. I blocked him out of my mind, and I was half asleep by the time we got home.
* * * *
Attila was pressed in a hot purring bundle against my leg when I woke up. He’d definitely adopted me, which showed sheer ingratitude to Mimi, who’d found him as a starving kitten and fed him to his present enormous size.
He sat on the toilet lid as I showered and dried my hair. The sound of the blow dryer made him nervous, but he tolerated it to satisfy his curiosity. He even endured my tuneless humming, the closest I will ever come to singing. The nap and hot shower had banished the worst of my soreness. The cut looked clean and small. I felt refreshed and in a mood to party. I tickled Attila under the chin, and he followed me to my vanity table to watch me put on my makeup.
I was thinking sweet thoughts about little furry friends when (via the mirror) I observed Attila carefully and deliberately shoving one of my earrings over the edge of the table. He tried hard to look innocent when he realized I’d caught him at it, but the look didn’t come off.
‘You’re going to have to learn my ways,’ I said grimly, ‘if we’re going to cohabit.
Bad cat
!’ I whacked him on his broad beam.
He instantly bit me and began purring like a chain saw.
We stared at each other.
The cat’s schizophrenic, I concluded. I knelt to grope under the bed for the earring. (Of course it had bounced under the bed – don’t they always?) Attila descended from the vanity with a thud and dived under the bedspread to see what I was doing. He spotted the gleam of gold a split second before I did and quickly sat on my earring. We stared at each other again. It looked like a Mexican standoff.
Fortunately for one of us, little Mao stuck her head around the door to investigate my room. Attila was off the earring in a flash, pursuing the smaller cat with yowls of fury.
Dressing went more smoothly after his departure. Soon I was all ready except for the top layer, and that required some thought.
Before going upstairs for her own nap, Mimi had advised me on what to wear: ‘Something that doesn’t show a whole lot of boob. Wait till they get to know you, for that. But don’t condescend, either; they’ll all know where you’ve lived and what you’ve done for a living.’ As if I needed that advice, after my never-to-be-forgotten gaucherie years ago.
Now I searched through my closet nervously, sliding hanger after hanger across the rod in search of something absolutely appropriate. It suddenly occurred to me how ludicrous my anxiety was. I recalled some of the parties I’d dressed for in New York. Some – not a lot, but some – had been the kind that got written up at great length and talked about for years.
Unfortunately my old ego boosters (Famous People I’ve Drunk With, Publicized Parties I’ve Attended, Beautiful Men I’ve Dated) didn’t seem to weigh an ounce now I was back home. They might as well have been social distinctions on the moon, for all they counted here and now. I gave myself the green light on being nervous. I had every reason to be.
I finally lighted on a dress that mingled every shade of blue and green and covered my chest pretty thoroughly without being in any way virginal. I pulled it on and got everything settled. Then I turned around in
‘It wasn’t important anyway,’ Cully said, and started the pickup bucking along the road.
We were halfway home when I turned to him and said with absolute honesty, ‘Cully Houghton, you are one of the most aggravating and frustrating people I have ever known.’
He looked considerably surprised, as well he might. I think it was the first time I’d ever said something really personal to Cully.
‘That’s interesting,’ he said after a moment.
We didn’t speak again; but oddly enough, the silence wasn’t uneasy. I blocked him out of my mind, and I was half asleep by the time we got home.
* * * *
Attila was pressed in a hot purring bundle against my leg when I woke up. He’d definitely adopted me, which showed sheer ingratitude to Mimi, who’d found him as a starving kitten and fed him to his present enormous size.
He sat on the toilet lid as I showered and dried my hair. The sound of the blow dryer made him nervous, but he tolerated it to satisfy his curiosity. He even endured my tuneless humming, the closest I will ever come to singing. The nap and hot shower had banished the worst of my soreness. The cut looked clean and small. I felt refreshed and in a mood to party. I tickled Attila under the chin, and he followed me to my vanity table to watch me put on my makeup.
I was thinking sweet thoughts about little furry friends when (via the mirror) I observed Attila carefully and deliberately shoving one of my earrings over the edge of the table. He tried hard to look innocent when he realized I’d caught him at it, but the look didn’t come off.
‘You’re going to have to learn my ways,’ I said grimly, ‘if we’re going to cohabit.
Bad cat
!’ I whacked him on his broad beam.
He instantly bit me and began purring like a chain saw.
We stared at each other.
The cat’s schizophrenic, I concluded. I knelt to grope under the bed for the earring. (Of course it had bounced under the bed – don’t they always?) Attila descended from the vanity with a thud and dived under the bedspread to see what I was doing. He spotted the gleam of gold a split second before I did and quickly sat on my earring. We stared at each other again. It looked like a Mexican standoff.
Fortunately for one of us, little Mao stuck her head around the door to investigate my room. Attila was off the earring in a flash, pursuing the smaller cat with yowls of fury.
Dressing went more smoothly after his departure. Soon I was all ready except for the top layer, and that required some thought.
Before going upstairs for her own nap, Mimi had advised me on what to wear: ‘Something that doesn’t show a whole lot of boob. Wait till they get to know you, for that. But don’t condescend, either; they’ll all know where you’ve lived and what you’ve done for a living.’ As if I needed that advice, after my never-to-be-forgotten gaucherie years ago.
Now I searched through my closet nervously, sliding hanger after hanger across the rod in search of something absolutely appropriate. It suddenly occurred to me how ludicrous my anxiety was. I recalled some of the parties I’d dressed for in New York. Some – not a lot, but some – had been the kind that got written up at great length and talked about for years.
Unfortunately my old ego boosters (Famous People I’ve Drunk With, Publicized Parties I’ve Attended, Beautiful Men I’ve Dated) didn’t seem to weigh an ounce now I was back home. They might as well have been social distinctions on the moon, for all they counted here and now. I gave myself the green light on being nervous. I had every reason to be.
I finally lighted on a dress that mingled every shade of blue and green and covered my chest pretty thoroughly without being in any way virginal. I pulled it on and got everything settled. Then I turned around in
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