Another You Read Online Free

kid’s name?” she said.
    “Henry,” he said. That, too, seemed the simplest thing to say. It was written beside the phone, in green ink: “Henry gives Alex good head.”
    When he hung up, he walked slowly back to the table, turning sideways to give their waitress more room. She was holding a big oval tray loaded with bowls of spaghetti and meatballs. It smelled wonderful, but as he inhaled he realized he’d been breathing shallowly because he had a headache. The glossy, wet roads, the same winter itchiness everyone else had, a lying phone call to his wife, whom he did love, something happening between himself and a young girl he hardly knew that was not entirely in his control—why bother to wallow in your midlife crisis if you were going to clamp down on your itchiness by exerting control?—and now, the idea had been planted that there might not be a roommate, that Cheryl Lanier might be making a personal confession.
    “I drank your Jack Daniel’s,” she said, as he returned to the table.
    He looked at her empty beer bottle. He looked at the empty glass. “I see you did,” he said, trying not to sound as surprised as he was.
    “Because you’ve got a beer anyway,” she said.
    “Should I have stayed gone longer?”
    She smiled at his little joke.
    “I could turn my head,” he said. “I’ll count to ten, and if the beer’s still there, I’ll assume you didn’t want to take the opportunity.”
    “I also took a Valium.”
    “You did?” he said. His thoughts raced: Sonja was right; this girl was someone to beware of; she wasn’t just revealing herself to him, she was flirting with real danger. Mixing Valium and alcohol, let alone tossing down a generous shot of Jack Daniel’s.… Good he’d come back to the table in time to stop her from drinking everything from every glass, her desire for him turned suicidal, or—less flattering to think, by far—her suicidal desire provoking a desire for him.
    “Like to order anything?” Myrtis said. “Another J.D.?” she said, before he could answer.
    “I’ll have another beer,” Cheryl said. She turned to Marshall. “Are we going to eat?”
    “Sure,” he said.
    “Sure you want another, or sure you’re eating?” Myrtis said.
    “Both,” he said. “I’ll have a burger. Medium.”
    “And for you?” Myrtis said to Cheryl.
    “The same,” she said, “but well done.”
    “Fries with those?”
    “Yes, thanks,” he said.
    “I’ll eat some of his,” Cheryl said.
    As the waitress left, Cheryl took a sip of his beer. When she saw how upset he looked, she laughed. “You’re not one of those people who are territorial about food, are you?” she said.
    “Listen,” he said, “be serious. It’s a very bad idea to take Valium and drink.”
    “One pill’s not going to kill me. I’ve never taken Valium. Are you worried I’m going to become a rag doll and embarrass you, or something?”
    “Will you stop after this next beer?” he said.
    She saw that he was serious. “Yes,” she said. “Now can we talk about something else?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “Your roommate’s problem?”
    “I shouldn’t,” she said. Then, suddenly, she said, “You know, I know quite a few students who think you’re a prick. Because of the way you seem to have all these in-jokes with yourself when you talk to them. You call the guys by their first names. Or if you really like them, by their last names. But you always call women ‘Ms.’ The ‘Ms. Lanier’ bit. But I think you’re very nice. So I’m saying this as a friend. I think that you should tone it down.”
    Myrtis put a plate of french fries on the table, along with the Jack Daniel’s and another Heineken. She moved the ketchup bottle to the side of the plate. “Enjoy, enjoy, for tomorrow … we enjoy!” Myrtis said, picking up Cheryl’s empty bottle.
    “It’s so nice not to see students everywhere,” Cheryl said. “It makes me crazy, sometimes. They think they’re so radical, but they