And so on to Tom Nolan.
After I broke up with Ray, who I wasn’t even dating, who had just saved my life, sort of.
And still my head hurt. And now, so did my heart. I sneezed.
“Fucking privet.” 8
The club, I’d soon learned, was closed for a few days. To dry out. Ray was the one who told me this by phone, just after I made it back home. He was heading for Mexico for a quick vacation. He said we’d get together when he got back. I told him we were over and through. Thanks for saving my life, but I was opting for a drag queen that barely reached my chest and who, up until recently, I had a love/hate relationship with, mostly the latter.
And, no, I didn’t say all that so much as think it. I mean, who breaks up with someone over the phone? Not me.
“Okay, Ray. Don’t drink the water.”
I hoped he could read between the lines. I tended to doubt it.
And so, now, on to Tom Nolan.
I called my father. “Your mom is out shopping,” he said.
“I called to speak with you, Dad.”