Our Souls at Night

13

The next day Holly drove out to Holt from Colorado Springs and Louis met her at the door and kissed her. They had supper sitting at the picnic bench in the backyard. And afterward they washed the dishes together and sat in the living room drinking wine.

I’m thinking of going to Italy for a couple of weeks this summer, she said. To Florence, for a class in printmaking.

I think you should. That sounds good.

I made the flight arrangements already. They’ve accepted me in a printing workshop.

Good for you. Do you need help paying for it?

No, Daddy. I’m all right. She looked at him for a moment. But I’m worried about you.

Oh? Is that so?

Yes. What are you doing with Addie Moore?

I’m having a good time.

What would Mom say?

I don’t know, but I think your mom might understand. She was a lot more capable of forgiveness and understanding than people knew. She was wise, in many ways. She saw things in a bigger way than people do.

But, Daddy, it’s not right. I didn’t know you even cared for Addie Moore. Or even knew her that well.

You’re right. I didn’t. But that’s the main point of this being a good time. Getting to know somebody well at this age. And finding out you like her and discovering you’re not just all dried up after all.

It just seems embarrassing.

To whom? It’s not to me.

But people know about you.

Of course they do. And I don’t give a damn. Who told you? It must’ve been one of your tightass friends in town here.

It was Linda Rogers.

She would.

Well, she thought I should know.

And now you do. And you want me to stop, is that it? What good would that do? People would still know we’d been together.

But it wouldn’t have to be the same thing. In your face every day.

You worry too much about people in this town.

Somebody has to.

I don’t anymore. I’ve learned that.

From her?

Yes. From her.

But I never thought of her as being progressive or loose either.

It’s not loose. That’s ignorant.

What is it, then?

It’s some kind of decision to be free. Even at our ages.

You’re acting like a teenager.

I never acted like this as a teenager. I never dared anything. I did what I was supposed to. You’ve done too much of that yourself, if I can say so. I wish you would find somebody who’s a self-starter. Somebody who would go to Italy with you and get up on a Saturday morning and take you up in the mountains and get snowed on and come home and be filled up with it all.

I hate it when you talk like this. Let me be, Daddy. I’ll live my own life.

That goes for both of us. Can we make a pact on that? A peace.

I still think you should think about this.

I have, and I like it.

Hell, Daddy.

—