I'm Not Your Other Half Read Free Page A

the wind.
    I had brought along a fat old quilt, and Annie had a holey old Army blanket. I wanted to wrap up in my quilt right out there in the parking lot, but pride prevented me. Pride also prevented me from putting on my tie hat. My ears get cold easily, and I still get the ear infections that other people outgrew when they were four years old. In windy cold weather I can either wear a hat that covers my ears, or I can make an appointment with my doctor.
    The hat that works for me is plain gray wool, with a soft flannel liner, that hangs in two long fat ribbons like the ears of a very tired bunny. The ties loop under my chin, and I feel stupid and matronly wearing it. But I’ve tried everything else. Ear muffs slip off; ear flaps aren’t tight enough; scarves are too thick to tie under the chin.
    There was no way I would have Michael’s first judgment of me include the gray bunny hat, so I was standing there with my ears turning red, wishing he would hurry up so I could make a good impression on him and then put on the hat.
    The bus arrived.
    Not the usual stylish one with corduroy upholstery and its own bathroom. A regular yellow school bus. Annie moaned. “For this we paid good money? Lumps and cold vinyl? We won’t drive to the University. We’ll lurch.”
    I was too cold for a wisecrack about the resemblance to her own driving. The fillings in my teeth hurt whenever I opened my mouth. I was resigned to the school bus. School inures you to certain forms of torture.
    Annie hopped up and down as the cold moved through her sneakers. She was wearing flannel-lined jeans with the extra turns to compensate for her lack of height, and she had thick fuzzy ankles of red plaid. Her shirt was red wool, over a red-heart-dotted turtleneck, and her ski jacket was electric blue. I was almost entirely in green, with a few scraps of white to offset it. We were a very colorful pair.
    I had washed my hair twice (the first time I blew it dry, it came out in peculiar stiff tendrils), and when I left the house, it was hanging in soft, lightly tucked waves, but now the wind had snarled and matted it. Hurry up, Michael, I thought.
    I shifted the picnic case. Thick, padded, soft vinyl, filled with yummy food and four soft drinks.
    â€œWe should have brought a thermos of something hot instead,” said Annie, shivering violently. “How much do we really want to go to this football game anyhow?”
    â€œA lot,” I told her.
    Annie grinned. Her tiny even teeth gleamed. Both of us had worn braces for years. We always notice teeth, because we respect the pain involved acquiring good ones. “We might as well board. If we don’t get seats now we’ll end up having to sit over the wheels.” We shuffled toward the bus.
    â€œCan’t be that heavy,” said Michael’s teasing voice.
    Even before I lifted my eyes, my heart lifted. It was as though the heavy, somber cold of the day had vanished, and we were somewhere in Bermuda—white sand, blue sky, soft warm sun and all the hours on earth to spare.
    â€œWe’re heavy eaters,” I told him.
    Michael looked unconvinced. “You?” he said, nodding his chin at my slim legs. All of me is slim, which is fine if it’s ankles, less so if it’s shoulders and chest. My face is narrow too, but I like to think it’s elegant, especially the new way I’m wearing my hair, swept back like combed honey.
    Michael took the picnic carrier from me and held it up with one finger.
    â€œShow off,” I said. “Fitness freak.”
    We grinned at each other.
    â€œHi, there, Fraser,” said another voice. “Hi, Annie.”
    Standing next to Michael was Price Quincy. It was all I could do not to say, “Oh, shit. You.” I bit back the words. Annie was saying, “Why, Price, great to see you” and so I said, “Price, how’ve you been?” trying not to sound gloomy.
    I did not care how Price