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Instead she held the door for me to get in. We dined at the ImperialRoom at prices which I must confess would have been far beyond mylimited means. Having agreed in advance I did not protest when sheplaced her credit card on the tray with the bill. After the floor showwe danced a little before driving back to the apartment.As on the earlier weekend she escorted me to the door, but did notaccept my invitation to come in."This has certainly been a memorable evening for me," she said. "I hopeyou have enjoyed being my date." Thank you for a lovely time," she added as she drew me toward her for agoodnight kiss.Later, lying in bed, I remembered that this kiss seemed fractionallylonger than before, but perhaps a trifle more intimate. I wondered whatit all meant. I certainly was fond of Carla and she seemed very takenwith me. Why had she turned my question aside when I asked who was theregular tenant of this apartment? She simply said it was not in use, soI might as well stay here.Saturday,. Just a few days earlier she’d been terrified of him. He’d peed on her, threatened her with bodily harm, and he had told her how much he hated her. That all seemed like a million years ago. Now he was everything, her hero, her help mate, her soul mate, her protector, and her lover. It was funny how things had turned out. Oncenot long ago she was alone, alone in the most meaningful, most lonely, most desolate sense. She remembered how she’d go to work, perhaps leave a coffee cup on the counter. When she got home it was still exactly where she’d left it. No one, not anyone, had been there, no one to put it away, cleaned it, or even lost it while she was gone. She understood people who had never lived alone could never appreciate the forlorn, lost, and lonely sight of an unmoved cup, a freshly made bed that no one ever crumpled, a tidy room, forever neat, always untouched, never used, never shared. Sorrel felt good, wonderful. She felt good about the missing sheets, the uncapped.
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