OCR Text |
Show 174 He glanced at his watch-the stiff blond hairs on his wrist catching the light-almost half the lunch hour was gone. They set to, eating quickly. She couldn't taste her food as she chewed, it could as well have been cardboard-for an awful moment she was suddenly afraid she had somehow bitten into her napkin-she looked down at the sandwich in her hands: it was, indeed, a sandwich. But he ate with obvious relish. Sandwich in hand, he observed, "You're still in high school, aren't you?" "Yes. A senior this year. At Sacred Heart Academy." "You look older than that." "That's what everyone says." He fell back to eating. "Skipped breakfast this morning," he explained between mouthfuls. "So did I," she said. She hadn't; she had eaten a big breakfast -ham and two eggs-after feeding the kids this morning. But she wanted him to know that she was conscious of her weight, that she knew she weighed too much, and was doing something about it. And she wanted to talk, or that is, to get him to talk, to learn more about him, she couldn't let this opportunity slip by. "How's college?" "It's great to be out from under it for awhile," he said. "Although just between me and you, I can think of a hell of a lot better way to spend a vacation." She laughed. "So can I." But she couldn't, not really. Or that is. there wasn't anything else even remotely possible for her that could be better than working at the store. |