“I think I’m ready to go home now,” I said, a little unsteady on my feet. It was, however, a lovely feeling.
“Come and sit down for a minute,” Raymond said, steering me toward a pair of wooden armchairs.
I was glad to do so, as my new boots rendered my balance somewhat precarious at the best of times.
Raymond lit another cigarette—he seemed to be becoming a chain smoker.
“They’re a nice family, aren’t they?” he said. “Laura is going to cut my hair,” I blurted out.
I’ve no idea why. “Is she now?” He smiled.
“You like her,” I stated, nodding sagely. I was a woman of the world, after all.
He laughed. “She’s gorgeous, Eleanor, but she’s really not my type.”
His cigarette end glowed red in the semidarkness. “What is your type?” I asked, finding to my surprise that I was actually interested.
I don’t know. Someone less... high maintenance, I guess. Someone... wait a minute.
I was more than content to sit still while he walked off,
returning minutes later with a bottle of wine and two garishly decorated paper cups sporting cartoon rodents on skateboards.
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