I’m Not An Old Woman

I Like Alice, Part 6

We left Yak’s at 2PM. Ordering beer added $30 to our tab.

“Stop being such a tight wad,” Dee said with an I-drank-at-lunch laugh.

“I enjoyed lunch. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking of you.”

“But usually it’s thinking, as in concerned. This morning, it was thinking, as in thinking.”

“What you should have said is, ‘thinking, as in love.’” We walked further. I smiled. Dee held my arm almost as a plea.

She asked, “Why did you decide to see Marty?”

I almost tripped again. “One of my clients, one who I like, he was really smart, he was great to work with. We got lots of stuff done really well. He had said something about Dr. Marty one day.”

“First, you don’t do things because someone else has. If anything, it’s the opposite. You become reluctant…”

“I become reluctant?” I said, and stopped walking.

“You become reluctant,” Dee said and started walking again, “if someone else did something without providing you a clear analysis of why. Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

When Dee talks, she’ll use the expression, ‘first,’ but she never uses ‘second’ or ‘third’ or ‘finally.’ Just ‘first.’ She used to use ‘firstly,’ but I corrected her a lot.

“Buddy had virtually disappeared.” An absence that Dee no doubt enjoyed. “You were getting angry with my complaining. I had no one to complain to.”

It felt good to walk as I focused on complaining.

Dee said, “So you decided to see Marty so that you could complain?”

“Yeah, complain.”

“You’re such an old woman sometimes,” she said, then stopped. “That’s it! An old woman with no one to complain to. That’s so sweet.”

“I’m not an old woman. And don’t tell Buddy that because he’d agree and I’d never live it down.”

Dee kissed me on the cheek, reaffirmed her strong grip on my arm and tugged me forward. “I might not be able to help myself.”

“You and Buddy don’t get along. And Dee, I swear, if you…”

“Relax. I’m sorry. So why the call?”

We walked past the tree that I had stumbled into. I couldn’t see what I had tripped on. It was probably more obvious when walking the other direction.

“I ghost write and can’t stand the frustration. I hate mealy exposition.” I stopped again and pulled Dee’s arm closer. “When I get things ordered and organized, when the clients cannot bother me or make a mess, when that happens and I’m supposed to relax, I can’t sit still and listen to music or watch TV. I think of Buddy too much.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t. What is it you understand?” I dropped her arm so I could look at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be angry with me because it wasn’t you I thought of?”

“This morning when you were asleep, you looked peaceful.” She reached out to grab me and huddle closer. We both were cold. “When you’re awake, you never look that way. When you complained about frustrating clients, my whole day at work flashed before my eyes. It sucks. Maybe that’s why you called Marty.”

… continued

——

I Like Alice

Part 6: I’m Not An Old Woman
Part 5: Shithead. The Beer.
Part 4: Pen And Buddy
Part 3: Dee-Lightful Lunch
Part 2: Dance Around The Damn May Pole
Part 1: Good Just Isn’t Good Enough