.. not that ... I mean...” she says, stumbling over her words.“I’m just fucking with you, Debbie,” he says. “I come here when I got somethin... on my mind or when I plan on picking up a woman to take back to my place.”“So which is it tonight?”“What?”She grins. “Clearly you got something on your mind, but is that all?”He shakes his head. “Well, I wasn’t planning on picking anyone up.”“But now that you’ve seen me, what do you think?”He shrugs. Yes, he definitely admires her tenacity. “The night is. "You are so rude having me parade around outside with no pants on," I giggled."You love it," he laughed, and I had to admit to myself that it was indeed so exciting.I shivered, half with the chill of the air and half with the excitement as we walked around the side of the house.At the front of the house we paused and kissed as we cuddled.Robert's hands roamed under my nightie and I knew that it must be lifted right up over my bum. Oh what a view if Mr Donoghue or old Mr Stanley happened to come. I went into work. Slowly, and when I saw Mr. Rice I made up a story about falling over on my way home the night before and hurting my leg.I was just so glad that neither my mother or Mr. Rice wanted to see the bruising and I hoped to high heaven that neither spoke to the other about my mishap. As it happened they did not mention it again because by the next day I was fine. I worked slowly that day and towards the end of the day Robert came over and asked if I was all right. I told him what was. It ended up being thirteen days that I existed in this state, lucky thirteen, a time about which my only hazy recollection is the scent of lilacs. Lilacs, my mother’s favorite flower, clumps of which she’d cut from her prized bushes during the short spring flowering season and put in vases around the house to share their sweet scent with us, a practice she’d continued until her own death seven years and three months before mine. Her death had proven more permanent than my own brief flirtation.
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