the appointment for my interview with Senator Daniels.
“Why do you think he’s arguing with Helen Daniels?”
“How should I know , Pres?” Brian said with an irritated shrug , obviously not interested at all and continuing with his explanation of fuel injector technology . How cou ld he not be interested? I loved people watching —t rying to figure out what they did for a living or what their relationship was, if they were with someone, or at the very least , mak ing catty comments about the way they were dressed. People watching could provide endless amusement.
“It doesn’t make you wonder why the Senator’s assistant and the Senator’s wife are sitting in a coffee shop arguing ? Can you hear an ything they are saying?” I interrupted him again, even poking him to try to get his attention, but he continued talking about his stupid garage. “Listen to me , Brian.” I grabbed his arm impatiently.
“Presley , who cares ? ” he said, drawing out the words, annoyed with me . “It’s none of our business.”
“Besides the obvious fact that it’s interesting, I need to make it my business, Brian. I am writing an article about Senator Daniels. Therefore , it’s my responsibility to find out all I can about anything that might giv e me insight about him” I said indig nantly. Even if I w asn’t writing an article, I would feel justified. Really, if they wanted to keep the argument private, they shouldn’t have it in a public place.
“Figures,” he muttered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean ? ” Jackass.
“You haven’t changed a bit. Your almighty career is the most important thing to you. You can’t spend even a few minutes listening to someone else talk without thinking about yourself.”
I just stared at him. Seriously? W as he saying this? He had just talked about carburetors or fuel injectors or what the hell ever for the past twenty minutes, not even asking me if I was interested or what I ha d been up to, and he was mad I didn’t care to listen any longer? Wh y did most men f e e l it s hould be all about them? I had listened to him long enough, o r at least pretended to, and my pretending had been damn good. I pretended to listen all the time , and no one ever knew the difference , n ot that they mentioned anyway. Brian hadn’t noticed until I had started asking him unrelated questions.
Back in each other’s company for less than two hour s and already arguing. If I weren’t so annoyed, I would find it funny. Human behavior could be very interesting.
“Brian, let’s not fight. Can’t we try to be friends? We’re not in high school anymore ,” I felt compelled to point out. “Besides , what do you care? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee and conversation?”
“You know, I thought maybe you would be ready to settle down. That we could reconnect. Maybe get back what we once had. You and me, we were a good couple, Presley,” he said, reaching across th e table for her hand. I leaned back and just looked at him , my mouth gaping op en, too shocked even to take my hand back. I wanted to laugh, but thought better of it when I saw his face. Even I wasn’t that mean . T his was twilight-zone stuff. It co uldn’t be possible! What had my mother been telling h im? Was he still in love with me after all this time ? T hat co uldn’t possibly be right. Had my mother offered him money to get back together with me ? A scary thought , but a much more plausible explanation than him still having feelings for me. Was there a dowry I didn’t know about? How did that go? Marry my daughter and get a cow and two chickens? I wouldn’t put it past my mother, although I wouldn’t expect my dad to ever go along, if he knew about it, and either option sounded horrible. I looked at Brian’s face ; he se emed truly upset, and, while I felt b ad, it didn’t change things. I hadn’t thought about him for years , and this was a complete shock, to say the least. But I was flattered . W hat
“Why do you think he’s arguing with Helen Daniels?”
“How should I know , Pres?” Brian said with an irritated shrug , obviously not interested at all and continuing with his explanation of fuel injector technology . How cou ld he not be interested? I loved people watching —t rying to figure out what they did for a living or what their relationship was, if they were with someone, or at the very least , mak ing catty comments about the way they were dressed. People watching could provide endless amusement.
“It doesn’t make you wonder why the Senator’s assistant and the Senator’s wife are sitting in a coffee shop arguing ? Can you hear an ything they are saying?” I interrupted him again, even poking him to try to get his attention, but he continued talking about his stupid garage. “Listen to me , Brian.” I grabbed his arm impatiently.
“Presley , who cares ? ” he said, drawing out the words, annoyed with me . “It’s none of our business.”
“Besides the obvious fact that it’s interesting, I need to make it my business, Brian. I am writing an article about Senator Daniels. Therefore , it’s my responsibility to find out all I can about anything that might giv e me insight about him” I said indig nantly. Even if I w asn’t writing an article, I would feel justified. Really, if they wanted to keep the argument private, they shouldn’t have it in a public place.
“Figures,” he muttered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean ? ” Jackass.
“You haven’t changed a bit. Your almighty career is the most important thing to you. You can’t spend even a few minutes listening to someone else talk without thinking about yourself.”
I just stared at him. Seriously? W as he saying this? He had just talked about carburetors or fuel injectors or what the hell ever for the past twenty minutes, not even asking me if I was interested or what I ha d been up to, and he was mad I didn’t care to listen any longer? Wh y did most men f e e l it s hould be all about them? I had listened to him long enough, o r at least pretended to, and my pretending had been damn good. I pretended to listen all the time , and no one ever knew the difference , n ot that they mentioned anyway. Brian hadn’t noticed until I had started asking him unrelated questions.
Back in each other’s company for less than two hour s and already arguing. If I weren’t so annoyed, I would find it funny. Human behavior could be very interesting.
“Brian, let’s not fight. Can’t we try to be friends? We’re not in high school anymore ,” I felt compelled to point out. “Besides , what do you care? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee and conversation?”
“You know, I thought maybe you would be ready to settle down. That we could reconnect. Maybe get back what we once had. You and me, we were a good couple, Presley,” he said, reaching across th e table for her hand. I leaned back and just looked at him , my mouth gaping op en, too shocked even to take my hand back. I wanted to laugh, but thought better of it when I saw his face. Even I wasn’t that mean . T his was twilight-zone stuff. It co uldn’t be possible! What had my mother been telling h im? Was he still in love with me after all this time ? T hat co uldn’t possibly be right. Had my mother offered him money to get back together with me ? A scary thought , but a much more plausible explanation than him still having feelings for me. Was there a dowry I didn’t know about? How did that go? Marry my daughter and get a cow and two chickens? I wouldn’t put it past my mother, although I wouldn’t expect my dad to ever go along, if he knew about it, and either option sounded horrible. I looked at Brian’s face ; he se emed truly upset, and, while I felt b ad, it didn’t change things. I hadn’t thought about him for years , and this was a complete shock, to say the least. But I was flattered . W hat
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