Honest Doubt by Amanda Cross Read Free Book Online

was a nice compliment. She actually got up, huge tail wagging, and walked over to me after Kate had opened the door. I dropped my helmet in the outside hall, gave Banny a really good doggy greeting and Kate a modified one, and followed both hosts into the living room. Once seated, I denied being thirsty, and pulled out my notes. I figured I owed it to Kate to get right down to business.
    But Kate had noticed me dropping my helmet outside her door, as she had not last time. Somehow, the fact that I ride a motorbike fascinates even the most sophisticated people; they want to know why, and how, and if I ever give someone else a ride.
    â€œNo, I don’t. For one thing, they haven’t a helmet. For another, while there’s theoretically room behind me, there
isn’t
much room behind me. How come you noticed my helmet this time? You didn’t notice it on my first visit.”
    â€œReed noticed it when he came in the last time you were here. He said, ‘I see she rides a motorbike,’ and I asked how he knew, since I’m supposed to be the detective in the family, and he mentioned the helmet, gallantly admitting that had he been inside when you arrived, rather than arriving from outside, he wouldn’t have noticed it either.”
    I nodded and returned to my notes. But she was still in a questioning mood.
    â€œWhy do you always mention being . . . well, heavy?” she asked. “I know that’s not a very tactful question, but if I don’t come right out with it, I’ll be thinking of it through all our conversations, which would, you admit, be distracting. So forgive me and answer.”
    â€œWould you start out asking a black woman why she referred so often to her race?”
    I could see I had embarrassed her.
    â€œKate, please. Being fat’s my hang-up, the cross I bear rather less gladly than I might; that’s a quotation from a hymn, in case they didn’t make you go to church. All the other nasty jokes are now forbidden, but not against fat people. Example: someone gave me a collection of short stories, detective stories, by women, and here’s how one by Sue Grafton begins. I’ve been lugging the book around with me to read while waiting for appointments, so I happen to have it here, as evidence. Grafton is describing a woman waiting outside her office. ‘She was short and quite plump, wearing jeans in a size I’ve never seen on the rack. Her blouse was tunic-length, ostensibly to disguise her considerable rear end.’ Later, Grafton’s detective goes to see a relative of this woman and notes that, like the first one, ‘she was decked out in a pair of jeans, with an oversize T-shirt hanging almost to her knees. It was clear big butts ran in the family.’ 1 See what I mean?”Kate seemed to be searching for something to say. I kept on talking, to give her a moment. I guess I really wanted her to understand how I felt about this fat stuff.
    â€œLook,” I said, “being fat’s been a lot of use to me. You can believe that. It’s gotten me confidences I’d never have had otherwise. But I don’t see why thin has to be a qualification for looking down on others, the way white used to be. I’ve made it a kind of crusade. But I do agree, it can get boring as a subject, and I’ll try not to mention it again. Now, can I tell you—”
    â€œIt isn’t boring, and I’m perfectly willing and happy to have you talk about it, now that you know I’ve mentioned it so we both don’t have to pretend you’re not saying what you’re saying. I do hope you see what I mean.”
    â€œI do, and I’m grateful you brought it out in the open. If there’s one thing I hate more than another, it’s tact. Not real tact, maybe, but the kind where you know they’re being tactful. I meet up with a lot of that. It doesn’t deserve the name ‘tact,’ does