Читать книгу Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride - Brian Sweany - Страница 15

Chapter seven

Laura squeezes my shoulder. “How’s your mom doing?”

“Good.”

“Really?”

“Almost too good. Mom and Dad say they’re trying again as soon as they get the okay from the doctor.”

“Wow.”

“I know—crazy, right?”

“I was thinking more like courageous.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Cut her some slack, Hank. She’s just a mom who wants to be a mom again.”

“I guess.” I hand Laura her bottle of Sea Breeze. “Is this the last of them?”

“I think so,” Laura answers.

I’ve spent most of our last night together before spring break helping Laura pack. For the last hour, we’ve emptied and washed a large assortment of shampoo, mouthwash, and hair gel bottles, which we then refilled with an even greater assortment of alcohols in the clear family: schnapps, vodka, gin. The Sea Breeze bottle is filled with tequila, its amber color passing for the skin astringent. Laura’s suitcase comprises these dozen or so bottles, two pairs of frayed jean shorts, three pairs of underwear, three T-shirts, and a white bikini. She modeled the bikini top for me earlier, her large breasts overwhelming the white cups. At least it isn’t red.

The opening chords of “Moving in Stereo” ring again in my ears. “This all you taking, honey?”

Laura bats her eyes. She softens her smoky lilt down to a feminine and sexy tone. “I was thinking about packing just my bikini and the booze.”

I don’t see the humor in this, and Laura notices. “Come here, sweetie,” she says, her hand extended towards mine.

I step cautiously toward her. She grabs my hand and pulls me into her. She gives me a deep kiss, one of those kisses that’s so long and intense you start gasping through your nose to breathe.

“What was that for?” I say.

Laura puts her head on my shoulder. “Reassurance?”

I want to be comforted, but I can’t tell if she’s talking to me or herself.