is fake it. Like I’ve done a thousand times before.
Knowing how to respond, she didn’t act. She was still too mad.
“I’ve got to do something,” he said. “Go somewhere. Oklahoma Trinity might not be the perfect choice but what if it is? You ever think of that?”
She had thought about it. How could she not? The Reverend hadn’t exactly been subtle in the hints he’d dropped. But Hawkins had always dismissed his father’s suggestions with a laugh. He hadn’t seemed remotely serious about the Christian college.
Until now.
His face clouded. “Every time I try to talk to you about something important, you shut down. The silent treatment really gets old sometimes.”
Bending down, he quickly tightened the laces on his shoes. “Screw it.”
Stiff-legged, he walked off.
Go then , Kristin thought. You think I care? Why the hell should I care about you when you don’t....
WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH?
Kristin hurried to join him. Hawkins’ neck was rigid and his jaw was set.
She guessed it was his turn to try the silent treatment. “I don’t think you’re allowed to say those kinds of things.”
His head faced determinedly forward.
“At seminary, I mean.”
Nothing from him.
In the past, he’d frequently complained about her periods of silence. At least she knew her reasons for keeping quiet.
Hawkins, on the other hand, was just being stubborn.
“Would Moses have used that kind of language?” she asked. “Do you think he ever went, ‘I’ve got sand in my tightie-whities, screw it, I’m going home’? Would Daniel have said, ‘What do you mean, lions? Screw it, I’m hitting the spa’?”
The muscles in Hawkins’ mouth worked to keep him from smiling. “The spa?”
“Nebuchadnezzar’s Tanning Salon and Spa. Big, big chain. Huge in Oklahoma.”
He stopped, facing her. “Are we okay?”
“Always.”
“You have to tell me I can go to Oklahoma City. I want to hear you’re good with it.”
She forced a smile. It felt as plastic as a Halloween mask. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Not exactly the same thing.”
“As good as you’re going to get for now.” She blinked back tears. “I’d take what I was offered if I were you.”
“Deal.”
They stood together awkwardly. Finally, Kristin shrugged. In response, Hawkins raised an eyebrow.
They started walking again.
He said, “School starts in September.”
“That bites.”
“I’ll text, I’ll call. I’ll e-mail.”
“You don’t even have a cell phone.”
“I’ll get one, I promise. Something shatterproof, this time. You won’t even know I’m gone.”
She felt like he was gone already. “Seminary or not, those text messages better not get all religous-y on me. I don’t want to read any ‘Honor thy’ or ‘Thou Shalt Not’ stuff.”
“Then you don’t send me any political bull or celebrity gossip.”
“You like gossip.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Stopping abruptly, he stared across the road. “You see that?”
A moving van was parked in front of Piotrowski’s Café. The rear roll-up door was up, exposing a cargo hold full of cartons and a metal rack extending over the sidewalk.
Martin Piotrowski walked down the ramp, a box in his arms. At the end of the ramp, a woman waited for him. She wore a dress in a gold leaf print with a sequined belt cinched at her waist. Her frame was small and her arms were bare.
It can’t be. Kristin clutched at Hawkins’ arm. I can see through this woman.
Literally, right through her.
She couldn’t see past the dress or through the bracelet, but wherever there was skin, the woman was translucent. Without flesh, organs or bone, she presented the outline of a person, a glass woman. If it hadn’t been for the fabric she wore, she’d have been nearly invisible.
A tall man stepped out onto the ramp, carrying a large cardboard container. His long sleeve blue shirt was rolled up to the elbows and open at the collar. Like the woman in yellow, his
Knowing how to respond, she didn’t act. She was still too mad.
“I’ve got to do something,” he said. “Go somewhere. Oklahoma Trinity might not be the perfect choice but what if it is? You ever think of that?”
She had thought about it. How could she not? The Reverend hadn’t exactly been subtle in the hints he’d dropped. But Hawkins had always dismissed his father’s suggestions with a laugh. He hadn’t seemed remotely serious about the Christian college.
Until now.
His face clouded. “Every time I try to talk to you about something important, you shut down. The silent treatment really gets old sometimes.”
Bending down, he quickly tightened the laces on his shoes. “Screw it.”
Stiff-legged, he walked off.
Go then , Kristin thought. You think I care? Why the hell should I care about you when you don’t....
WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH?
Kristin hurried to join him. Hawkins’ neck was rigid and his jaw was set.
She guessed it was his turn to try the silent treatment. “I don’t think you’re allowed to say those kinds of things.”
His head faced determinedly forward.
“At seminary, I mean.”
Nothing from him.
In the past, he’d frequently complained about her periods of silence. At least she knew her reasons for keeping quiet.
Hawkins, on the other hand, was just being stubborn.
“Would Moses have used that kind of language?” she asked. “Do you think he ever went, ‘I’ve got sand in my tightie-whities, screw it, I’m going home’? Would Daniel have said, ‘What do you mean, lions? Screw it, I’m hitting the spa’?”
The muscles in Hawkins’ mouth worked to keep him from smiling. “The spa?”
“Nebuchadnezzar’s Tanning Salon and Spa. Big, big chain. Huge in Oklahoma.”
He stopped, facing her. “Are we okay?”
“Always.”
“You have to tell me I can go to Oklahoma City. I want to hear you’re good with it.”
She forced a smile. It felt as plastic as a Halloween mask. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Not exactly the same thing.”
“As good as you’re going to get for now.” She blinked back tears. “I’d take what I was offered if I were you.”
“Deal.”
They stood together awkwardly. Finally, Kristin shrugged. In response, Hawkins raised an eyebrow.
They started walking again.
He said, “School starts in September.”
“That bites.”
“I’ll text, I’ll call. I’ll e-mail.”
“You don’t even have a cell phone.”
“I’ll get one, I promise. Something shatterproof, this time. You won’t even know I’m gone.”
She felt like he was gone already. “Seminary or not, those text messages better not get all religous-y on me. I don’t want to read any ‘Honor thy’ or ‘Thou Shalt Not’ stuff.”
“Then you don’t send me any political bull or celebrity gossip.”
“You like gossip.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Stopping abruptly, he stared across the road. “You see that?”
A moving van was parked in front of Piotrowski’s Café. The rear roll-up door was up, exposing a cargo hold full of cartons and a metal rack extending over the sidewalk.
Martin Piotrowski walked down the ramp, a box in his arms. At the end of the ramp, a woman waited for him. She wore a dress in a gold leaf print with a sequined belt cinched at her waist. Her frame was small and her arms were bare.
It can’t be. Kristin clutched at Hawkins’ arm. I can see through this woman.
Literally, right through her.
She couldn’t see past the dress or through the bracelet, but wherever there was skin, the woman was translucent. Without flesh, organs or bone, she presented the outline of a person, a glass woman. If it hadn’t been for the fabric she wore, she’d have been nearly invisible.
A tall man stepped out onto the ramp, carrying a large cardboard container. His long sleeve blue shirt was rolled up to the elbows and open at the collar. Like the woman in yellow, his
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