I Speak for the Dead

Part Three

Terry, though, he was different from me. He was good, and his heart was right out there in the front yard of life, waving at the kids going by on their corny homemade scooters. He was the sort of man my mother had always hoped I would wind up married to, living in a ranch house with a few grandchildren for her to fuss over. Well, that didn't happen. I had to admit they don't make them like Terry anymore. Six-foot if he was an inch, and every inch of him was just the right sort. He was strong, and fair, and I had no idea why it hadn't worked out with us. It had to be me. It couldn't have been him.

I frowned.

Terry said, “Careful, Rachel. You're doing that pouty move with your nose. I feel like a heel, but you know I like that.”

"Dream on, Terry. And this is a workplace. You don't need to be so...so...so whatever it is you are."

"You're right sweetheart. Now listen; you've appealed to the better angels of my nature, and I'll try to be more like you. More soft, and gentle.”

Terry stood up and gathered his things. Gathered them? He snatched them. Anything that would fit, he stuffed in his briefcase. "One more thing. You can finish your own research. I'm going home."

I pushed my chair back. "Home?"

"Yeah. You may have heard about it. It's a place I know with four walls and a roof, and no Rachel Banner."

"Listen, Terry, why don't you stay for a while? I'm just tired and out of sorts. I'll order up some Chinese, and we'll eat at the desk.”

Terry dropped his briefcase. “Sounds like fun. We’ll open up fortune cookies until we find ones we like, and then we’ll keep those and make them come true. What do you say?"

"That's not really what I had in mind, Terry.”

"Well, we'll get something else. Italian. We’ll each take one end of a noodle and follow it clear to the end."

“Lady and the Tramp? I'd rather kiss the Tramp.” Sometimes words leave your mouth like bats dashing out of a cave on a warm summer's evening. Terry's eyes hardened. “You know, Rachel, sarcasm might be your best line, but I don’t have to stand here and take it. My paychecks don't mean that much to me.” He stood up and rocketed from the room, the door quivering in the frame behind him.