Enough of Sorrow by Lawrence Block

Author:Lawrence Block [Block, Lawrence]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Lesbian, Erotica, General, Romance, ebook, book
ISBN: 9781453209295
Google: KC6hAE41LqsC
Amazon: B00B1MSH9M
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2010-12-27T11:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

The three drinks had hit her hard. She took a cab home and felt slightly rocky in the back seat. She sat up straight, gripped the seat in front of her with both hands as if this would make her stomach calm down.

“Something wrong, Miss?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong.”

But she made the cab driver stop the car on the corner of Third Avenue, and she paid and dismissed him and stood on the corner for a few moments gulping air. It didn’t mean a thing, she told herself, but she knew better than to believe that convenient lie. She thought of going home, to Rae, and she hesitated. Of course Rae didn’t know about her little test, and would not know that she had failed, but, still, she couldn’t bring herself to go to the apartment and face the blonde girl. She had been drinking—not because she wanted to but because she had to. This bothered her, and it kept her from going to the apartment.

Instead, she went to a bar. A bar on the corner of Third Avenue, a neighborhood pub with half a dozen men in it and no women at all. She sat at the bar and the men stared at her. She half-hoped one of them would approach her so that she could tell him what he could do to himself. No one did. The bartender came, and that was what she really wanted, of course.

“Double scotch,” she said…

She had never been this drunk before. She could still get around perfectly well, could walk straight, could manage to navigate. And her mind seemed to be working with perfect clarity. Nevertheless, she was rotten drunk and she knew it.

When she opened the apartment door Rae got up out of the chair and started toward her. “Oh, my god,” she was saying. “Baby, I was worried sick about you. Do you know what time it is? Why didn’t you call? What happened to you? Where were you, for godssake?”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry! Oh, you’re drunk, Karen, what on earth is wrong with you? I don’t understand it, baby. What on earth—”

“You don’t own me, Rae.”

The blonde girl stepped back as if she had been slapped brutally across the face. Her hand came up in defensive reflex. Her mouth fell open.

“Karen…”

“I’m a big girl now,” she heard herself say, “I can do what I damn well want.”

“But—”

“You want to know something? You’re turning into a nag.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Don’t I? Let go of me.”

“You’d better go to sleep now, Karen.”

“Damn it, you’re not my mother.”

She couldn’t believe what was happening, could not understand what she herself was doing. It was crazy—she was fighting with Rae, making nothing at all into a horrible fight, and she was conscious of what she was doing but couldn’t do a thing to stop it. It was almost schizophrenic, as if there were two Karens and she was sitting across the room, helpless to interfere, while one of her was making a mess out of everything.

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