The Unknown Knowns Read Online Free

lovemaking. Back when we still made love. For Jean irritation and amorousness have the same repertoire of noises. That was one of the things that turned me on about her initially.
    When I landed the job with the literacy group, we decided to go out and celebrate. The Corolla was in the shop, so I borrowed the bookmobile. When I pulled up in front of her apartmentcomplex, she groaned at the scandalous nature of what I was driving. I winked. She climbed in the sliding side door.
    It was Jean who got the idea to read “bedtime stories” in the back of the bookmobile (although I was the one who took the heat for it from my superiors). And this wasn’t exactly Berenstain Bears or Make Way for Ducklings . The material was far more advanced.
    She groaned when I told her about what happens after hours in Busytown, when the Lowly Worm comes out of his apple. She groaned and groaned until the bookmobile was filled with the sound of her groaning.
    I mark that night as a watershed in my feelings for Jean. Those feelings have not abated, no matter what she’s done to me, or I to myself.
    â€œAre you even listening to me? I said Betty called. For like the fifth time.”
    â€œI made a lot of headway tonight,” I replied, raising my eyebrows in an expression of positivity.
    â€œDid you see Corey?” She asked this without any real interest. Corey was the night clerk at the Hilton. He was a nice guy who was weirdly jazzed about what life had handed him, despite what it had in fact handed him. We’re talking about a man who wore a neck brace and did the over-the-back slam-dunk gesture at every perceived victory. Our relationship involves comics. It’s a bond, so he gives me special access to the hotel facilities after hours. Jean always disliked Corey, or disliked the me that she saw through the lens of Corey.
    â€œI got some cool ideas about weaponry,” I said, placing my hand on her ankle—a mistake. “Normal weapons like lasers would dissipate in the water, so they used these sonic cannons—with like a burst of superfocused sound. They were pretty cool weapons.” I withdrew my hand and mimed a shoulder-mounted rifle, like a bazooka or something.
    â€œShe said do you want her to send some vest to you. You left a vest there that you made in fifth grade.”
    â€œAnd also there are cultural echoes with like dolphin language and whale calls,” I said. “Which are supersonic too.”
    â€œA vest she said you made out of yarn or something. I can’t believe you made a vest.” She still wasn’t looking at me. “Do you want to know what I think the subtext of that phone call is?”
    â€œCome on, Jean. Everything doesn’t have a subtext,” I said. Jean has a degree in psychology, which has been a help/hindrance in terms of her own personal growth. “The thing about supersonic rifles is they could frighten and confuse an enemy without actually killing him.”
    â€œThe subtext of the phone call is this: Look at my creative son, he’s so creative. You don’t deserve my son, Jean, you little bitch, because you don’t value how creative he is. He made a vest out of yarn and you can’t foster his creative vision.”
    I sat forward. “She wouldn’t say the b word.”
    â€œAnd do you know what the sub -subtext is? Or the sub -sub-subtext?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen I’ll tell you.” Here she Frisbeed a throw pillow across the room. “Your mother is a very lonely and depressed person.”
    I tried to put my hand on Jean’s ankle again but discovered that it was still a mistake. She sounded a meaningful sigh and picked up her water glass.
    â€œWill you turn off that light on your way out?” she said.
    â€œOn my way out where?”
    â€œOut to the bedroom.”
    Jean had slept on the couch off and on for the past three weeks. The couch was close to the front door. And the front