Just North of Whoville by Turiskylie, Joyce (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📗

to take an attitude. I’m just going to pick a positive one.”

He smiled.

“Do you like pie?”

“I LOVE pie!”

“There’s a diner around the corner that has amazing homemade pies. My treat. For your birthday.”

“Oh…I don’t know. That’s okay.”

Damn. Why did I say that? Apparently I have an automatic reflex that immediately turns down assistance. And pie.

“Are you sure? It’s right around the corner. Coconut custard?”

I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers offering twice.

A few minutes later, there was a slice of pie and a cinnamon covered cappuccino right before my eyes.

“Oh---this is great!” I said as I dug in. “I’m not really a cake person.”

“You prefer pie.”

“I prefer pie,” I agreed, in what almost seemed like flirting.

In fact, the whole hour we spent together seemed like flirting. It was the best date I’d been on in years. No awkwardness. No lists of our likes and dislikes. No worry that I might say something and he wouldn’t get my reference. It seemed like the perfect date.

“So, how long have you and Alex been together?”

Until then.

“Can we talk about something nice?” I suggested, trying to steer clear of all that “unpleasantness”.

“Like what?”

“Your plays,” I said. And he blushed. I saw him blush. “I fell asleep reading them the other night.”

“They put you to sleep?”

“No! I mean…you should get those out there. You’re really, really talented.”

“Thanks. I’m working on it. But I got the call from Steve and started thinking about the two-person show thing.”

“I think it’ll work. Don’t you?”

“What about this….George Bailey is so distraught he’s about to jump off a bridge. But instead of an angel, a psychiatrist shows up? And the whole thing is these session between them?”

“I might be able to help you with that.”

As we left the diner, he put on his cute winter hat with ear flaps and offered to walk me home.

“That is, if you’re going home to Alex’s place. I’m sorry to bring that up,” he apologized.

“Yeah. I guess I am. They’re still painting over there.”

“What are they? Union?”

“Funny you should say that…”

I was going to have to break up with Alex. Again. Why of why wasn’t I more successful instead of being stuck in my crappy illegal sublet with a fake, cheating boyfriend? Why couldn’t Alex have said I was his cousin staying there for awhile? Or his maid? Anything but his girlfriend. At the very least, why couldn’t he have just kept it in his pants?

As it stood, I had to break things off immediately or risk Nate thinking I was a complete doormat with low self-esteem. What kind of a man is interested in a woman with low self-esteem? Serial killer? Wife beater? At the very least, the kind of boob who frequents strip clubs. Certainly not the kind of guy I was looking for. Happily, Nate didn’t seem to fall into any of those categories. But Alex and I had already “gotten back together” once already. How many times could I forgive him and still look stable?

“So, what are you going to do now?” he asked as we walked.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said mysteriously. As if I already had it mapped out in my head, but didn’t want to bother him with the messy details. I will take care of it. Don’t worry. Exactly what a strong, independent woman would say.

“Well, if you need some help moving any stuff to your place, or a friend’s place, just let me know. Oh….” He said as he reached in his pocket. “Here’s my card. You should probably have my number, anyway. For the show. Just give me a call.”

There was an awkward moment. Something was supposed to happen here. He’d given me his card. That put the ball in my park. I had to throw something back. What? I had no business card. Temps don’t have business cards. Shit. The ball was just sitting there. Lying on the ground on the other side of the fence. Throw it back. For godsakes, throw something back. Can’t you just flirt a little? For once in your stupid life can you at least flip your hair or something?

“Dorrie!” I heard and turned around. Alex stood up from the front stoop as he slipped a flask into his pocket. “I’ve been waiting for you to get home. Guess I lost you in the crowd,” he said in what was perhaps an even worse acting job than his ad-lib performance in Feeling-Up the Down Staircase.

“Um…I stopped to get some pie and coffee. With Nate,” I made sure to point out.

“Hey, Alex,” Nate said casually and gave him a little wave.

“Can we go inside…sugar-pie? I don’t have my keys. And I’m freezing my balls off out here,” Alex said as he stepped up and gave me an awkward kiss on the cheek.

“Are you going to be okay?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said as I glanced over at Alex who took the opportunity to warm up with another sip of whatever was in his flask.

“Well, Happy Birthday,” Nate said absently, then gave a little smile; as if he’d said something completely inappropriate and the only reaction to his faux pas was a stupid grin.

As he walked away, I turned to give Alex my most disapproving look ever.

“What? She locked me out. What did you tell her?”

“Me? I didn’t say anything. What did you do?”

“Nothing. It’s just… Tanya kept calling my cell. And then Celia started accusing me of things.”

“Maybe because you’re cheating on her.”

“Whatever, okay----it’s fucking freezing out here.”

“You’re planning on staying here?”

“It’s my apartment.”

“You can’t get a hotel room?”

“Celia has my wallet with all my money and credit cards.”

“Why did you give her your wallet?”

“It…creates an unsightly bulge in