And the Bridge Is Love by David Biro

Author:David Biro [Biro, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2021-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

Corinna sat astride her Vespa a few minutes later. The rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the clouds. Mr. Tongue Ring should be in his usual spot in the alley behind the high school, and hopefully, Vinnie would be nearby. She’d take the long way around, down Shore Road to the Verrazzano, then make her way onto the Belt Parkway. Picking up speed, she felt the wind in her hair, the sea on her lips. She heard Bach’s music, imagined his fingers dancing across the keys of his harpsichord.

Flannery had pegged her in his portrait. Clearly, Corinna had underestimated him, probably because of his lousy taste in literature. Flannery was a talented artist. A psychoanalyst too. He intuited her feelings for the Professor. Why hadn’t she noticed how perceptive he was before? Not because of his . . . no, please, let it not be because of his imperfections. She of all people.

She pulled back on the throttle, pushing the Vespa to its limit. Flannery had pegged her, all right. This was where she was happiest, flying solo—on her bike or in her library of books—a bird in flight. He was right about the Professor too. She pictured him adjusting his bow tie, his wiry limbs canted in different directions, his pompous gaze. He never liked her and never would.

Besides, she wasn’t made for that kind of like. For as far back as she could remember, she was different from the other girls. In fifth and sixth grades, she watched her classmates’ chests fill out and heard about their first menstrual cycles. She watched and waited, but nothing ever happened to her. Even bifocaled Betty Fields got her period. Even Betty Fields started talking to boys. The doctor said it was a hormonal deficiency that couldn’t be corrected.

Of course it bothered her—being different, being essentially sexless. But eventually she came to realize that love wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She saw how it had played out for Gertie and many of the residents at the Center, who sat on the other side of the room, as far away from their husbands as possible. And while Maria believed she had been the luckiest woman on the planet, who knew how much of what she remembered was real.

Corinna exited the highway at Owl’s Head Park and looped back around in the opposite direction, her favorite stretch, heading east toward the Bridge.

You’re right about the pompous son of a bitch, Joe! Corinna understood her needs, and the Professor wasn’t one of them. She had her Vespa and the Belt Parkway. Her rooftop deck with views of the Narrows and the Verrazzano. Her Bach and Brahms. Red wine and Irish whiskey. Hookah and hash. What more could she want?

The sunlight sparkled on the water. A tugboat towed a large freighter toward the harbor. Corinna tried to make out the name but had trouble because of the glare.

There were plenty of people who respected her, who depended on her, just as the freighter depended on the tug.

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