Innocents and Others by Dana Spiotta Read Free Book Online Page B

air.
    â€œSo nice to talk with you this morning, nice to meet you, Jack,” she said.
    â€œThe pleasure, Nicole, is mine. So when can we talk again? Can I call you sometime?”
    Jelly sat up. Held the phone back for a minute. She moved slowly in these moments. The giveaway was not in his request. The giveaway was in that he used her name. She had him.
    â€œI do have to run. I promise I will call you soon,” she said.
    â€œI look forward to it. Anytime,” Jack said.
    â€œGoodbye,” she said.
    â€œBye.”
    She would not call anytime. She would call on Sunday at the same time. Only Sunday, and it would only be her calling him. Parameters. Predictability. It was the way it worked best for both of them, for this thing they were building between them. He wouldn’t understand, he would want to call her, have her number. He would want other times, more frequent talks. But she knew what was best, how to do this. Pace was important. She would make him her Sunday call, and as the weeks of talks would go by, he would accept her terms. He would begin to get great pleasure out of counting the days until Sunday.

JELLY AND OZ
    Jelly first met Oz at a group session. He listened to her tell the group what she struggled with. Then she was quiet while various people made suggestions and said mildly supportive things. After it was finished, Oz came over to her. He had his dog with him, and he moved confidently through the space. She waited for him to tell her it would be okay, she would adjust to it all. Instead he told her his name was Oz, and then he said, “I dig your voice. I thought, I would love to hear that girl tell a story. A long sad story with children and animals in it. Like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.”
    â€œThank you,” she said, and she blushed, a little unprepared for a come-on. In this place. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it?
    After he left, another girl from group told her about Oz: he had an IQ of 160 and a special genius for electronics. The next time she came to session, he approached her again.
    â€œHey, there,” Oz said.
    â€œHi, Oz,” she said. His high soft voice belied his big physical presence. He sat next to her, a large blur.
    â€œGirl, what can I do to get with you?”
    Jelly laughed loud enough for him to hear her.
    â€œYou like music?”
    â€œI love music,” she said.
    â€œI’d like to listen to some John Coltrane with you. You should come over. We can order some take-out food and listen to Coltrane. You know, like A Love Supreme ?” She was right, he was into her. It made her nervous. How old was he? She couldn’t tell, not with her blurry view. Everyone looked like they had perfect wrinkle-free skin. It was funny not to know how old or how ugly someone was. She had to go on other things, like size and smell. But mostly the sound of a voice, and hey—even what the voice said.
    â€œI don’t think I have heard it—”
    â€œOh girl! Your life is missing something truly beautiful—”
    â€œBut I can’t tonight. I’m going out with a friend. She is picking me up in a few minutes.”
    Jelly turning him down did not seem to bother or discourage him at all. Oz was always comfortable, always easy, which was unnerving and oddly seductive. And the next time she was at session, he asked her out again. She wanted to say yes, to date Oz and spend time with Oz and get close to Oz, but she hesitated for what she knew were stupid reasons. She was worried his blindness would make her even more ridiculous. She was on the continuum of blindness: a meningitis infection had nearly killed her and made her blind overnight, but then, slowly, she had recovered some sight. She could see shapes and light and colors, but her blurry vision was also tunneled to 90 degrees, which made getting around without the help of a cane difficult, although she tried anyway. Imagining the way two