'Marriage isn't everything, Kira.' I was trying to make her feel better, but she fixed me with another steady look.
'Easy for you to say, sure. Because you gave it up.'
'That's not why. That's not what I meant,' I added. 'I just meant you shouldn't feel like something is missing. That's
al.'
'But something is. Hey, maybe you'l be my bridesmaid,'
'But something is. Hey, maybe you'l be my bridesmaid,'
Kira offered.
'Sure. Okay.'
We parted with half a hug and brush of cheeks. I
wondered if she'd realy ask me. I wondered if I'd care if
she didn't. I drove home, glad I wasn't her. Glad I wasn't
missing something.
But I was missing something in my life, and those notes,
those lists, gave me something I needed. One waited for
me when I got back. My fingers shook a little as I opened
it. What next? I wondered. What fantasy would I be
asked to live out this time? I already imagined the paper
and pen I'd use to write it, this time. This time I would
write it.
Tomorrow you wil wear a blue shirt.
That was it.
I think I bared my teeth before composing myself quickly.
If someone was watching, I wasn't going to give him the
pleasure of seeing my disappointment.
Tomorrow you wil wear a blue shirt.
'Tomorrow,' I muttered as I shoved the card through the
slot of 114, 'I'l wear whatever color shirt I damn wel
please.'
I refused to think of it al the way up the four flights of
stairs to my apartment, then al the way down again as I hit
the basement for an hour's workout. I refused to think
about the note and its simple, one-sentence instruction as I
sweated and cursed at the television and its bounty of
buxom, slim-hipped beauties on their mission to make al
other women feel inferior. I refused to think of it in the
shower as I lathered my body and deep-conditioned my
hair and shaved my legs.
'Damn it!' I cried to my empty room as I stood in front of my closet.
I had no clean blue shirts.
I put on a soft pair of sleep pants patterned with grinning
monkeys wearing Santa hats and twisted my hair up high,
clipping it out of the way so it would be wavy when it
dried. I turned the TV on, then off. I picked up a book
and put it down.
and put it down.
'Shit.'
I lay on my bed, arms crossed behind my head, and stared
at the ceiling. The plaster had been laid in smal, even
