Here Kitty Kitty by Jardine Libaire

Author:Jardine Libaire
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780316029346
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

And then I reviewed my reality.

Besides Kai, I’d dated a bulimic man who, after a big meal, slept with Skoal in his lip to puke effortlessly in the night. Learned it on the college wrestling team.

I’d dated an amphetamine freak. He’d get to the bar before me, order anything I might have wanted, from martini to rum and Coke, and have all six or seven drinks lined up on the table.

A one-night stand who lived in Red Hook and let his pit bull lick cum off his hand.

A painter who dragged me to yoga and made me smoke on his fire escape in the rain.

The married one was the worst, of course. He turned out to be not only married but keeping his other girlfriend in a studio in the building where he lived with his family. And the girlfriend babysat his little boy when he came to me. I discovered this when we walked out of my building one golden afternoon, starved from sex, holding hands, and a white Nissan idled on my curb. A kid sat in the driver’s lap and practically crawled out the window when he saw Dave.

“I’m sorry, baby,” the woman said around the struggling child. “He was so upset he was hyperventilating.”

On my first date with Yves, I was in it for filet mignon and Barolo, and I’d perversely been looking forward to tempting then disappointing him. I’d had some cat-and-mouse game in mind. I expected him to be pompous. Instead he told stories about blind-drunk karaoke in Tokyo, his grief the night his best friend won Yves’s date by standing on a chair to shred gladiolas in the ceiling fan. The red petals spiraled into ladies’ laps, wineglasses, the necks of men’s shirts. He showed me cuff links made for him by a Hong Kong hotelier: binoculars, in honor of a night Yves fell down opera-house steps.

Listening to him, I forgot myself. Rapt, I propped my cheek on one hand, watched as he carved a dollhouse that floated above the table; each room was a story. His Adam’s apple rattling.

That night he’d ordered me a Town Car outside the restaurant, overpaid the driver, and didn’t even kiss me good night. Instead he hugged me, held on after I’d tried to pull away, until my body relaxed, and his warmth seeped through my clothes. At first I was busy formulating the mocking story I’d tell Belinda, but when his warmth reached me, I was comforted to the bone. It was everything I could do to get the car to drive off before I started crying.

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