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Show •188 frogs. "Women who make sense are like horses with wings, my man. For storybooks only." He squeezed his sandwich back together and raised it, but stopped short of his mouth. "Because you been married once you think you know women, but you don't know even the beginnings. Not even the little baby-blue beginnings." But I kept asking Fancy to go out with me and one day, for no special reason I could see, she said yes. After the movie we came back to my apartment and made precarious love in the double hammock. She had a hard muscular body, full of tendons and bones, but also a softly drawling back-country voice that made up for what sharp corners of her I bruised myself on. "This is just for a while," I said. "I can't get serious with anybody now." "Did I ask you to get serious?" "I just wanted you to know. So nobody would get their feelings hurt." "When I was sixteen years old I was married to a real son of a bitch." She turned those deep hooded eyes on me. "I thought it was all going to be heaven and roses, Buck, but it was pure hell. I'll never do that again. How do I know you're not a son of a bitch too?" "I guess you don't." |