The Saving Graces by Patricia Gaffney Read Free Book Online

best friend, but she attracts other people for the same reason. I don't know if it's all the years in therapy, but Rudy has a way of saying the unsayable and making it sound normal and human. Forgivable.
When I ask what she saw in me, she says, "You were so funny." That's nice; I like making people laugh, and I don't need a therapist to tell me why. "And you were honest. And sort of snotty, but in a good way, not really mean. A smart-ass with a heart of gold." It's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me.
Over dessert, my mind wandered. Also my eyes. Mick Draco had incredible shoulders. Draco -it's Greek, isn't it? But the bump in his nose looked Roman. I put on my glasses. He had a mole at the flared end of his right eyebrow. And the neatest, tidiest hairline, something so clean about it, even though his straight, streaky hair was too long. (For fashion; not too long for him.) He laughed at something his friend said. I couldn't hear the laugh over the restaurant din, but it made me smile in sympathy.
Lee smiled back at me.
I took off my glasses and pulled myself together. Mick Draco's a dead end. And I'm a bust at the man-woman thing. Half a lifetime of trying and failing to connect with the opposite sex for longer than a year or two can't be discounted or called "finding myself" anymore. I'm never going to find myself, because I'm a loser.
"What would I do without you guys?" I interrupted Rudy to ask, out of the blue, in the middle of the crème brfilée. Everybody smiled at me fondly; Isabel glanced at my wineglass-just checking, a tolerant, motherly gesture. "No, I mean it. If my luck was as rotten with women as it is with men, I'd have to shoot myself."
Rudy gave me a little pat on the shoulder and went back to a story she was telling about her shrink. But, you know, it's true. I might die an old maid, but I'll always have my pals. God knows there are worse things than living alone. Most men are only speed bumps anyway, aggravating distractions scattered along life's otherwise pretty nice highway. You might run into a good one every long once in a while, but even then he's usually got something wrong with him. Good women, on the other hand, are everywhere. You can pick and choose, find the best ones, start a club, and have friends for life.
Walking out of La Cuillerée, Lee turned at the door and waved good-bye to Mick Draco, but I didn't. I sailed on out, didn't even glance his way. I was over him. Thanks to my friends, I had it all in perspective. Saved by the Graces once more.
Then, too, I'd be seeing him again on Monday.
       6.
        I had an awful dream last night. I was rushing, late for something, the dream was half over before I realized what-my session with Eric. I was driving Curtis's car instead of mine, and there was no place to park, so I drove right over the curb and parked on the sidewalk in front of Eric's office. Uh-oh, I thought, he won't like that. Now I'm not sure who I meant, Eric or Curtis. Eric, I think. Anyway, I was wild to see him. I had something important to tell him, something about my father. (What?) I ran into the building, up the stairs, through the waiting room and into his office, I didn't even knock-and-there he was, having sex on the floor with somebody.
I couldn't see the woman's face. They still had their clothes on-funny that the dream censored that-but they were definitely making love. Eric looked up at me and smiled, just the way he always does, and then I saw the woman's red hair and her pale, laughing face. Emma.
Should I tell Eric about this dream? Should I tell Emma? She'll laugh, 1 can hear her. It wasn't funny when it was happening, though. Not in the least.
I started to cry. My heart was broken. I went behind the door, hiding so they couldn't see me. But they did, and then I felt humiliated. Then-then it changed, and it was Eric and me making love, on his velour-upholstered sofa. With our clothes off. Emma appeared, hands on her hips. She said, "Well, this is just