Read Playing for Julia for Free Online Page B

his hands, pulls me toward him and kisses my forehead softly.  I close my eyes.  He kisses one eyelid, “Sweet Dreams, baby.  Then kisses the other:  “Dream of me.  Goodnight.
    He turns and walks away , back through the gate to his car.
    “Goodnight,” I whisper.  I am barely breathing, my body vibrating.  I feel I have been left hanging in an emotional limbo.  Why did he do that?  Why didn’t he kiss me?
    The door to the cottage is unlocked, apparently Ali’s doing.  She is waiting in the darkness inside, sitting on the sofa, watching TV.  I flick on the overhead light.
    “You’re home.  Thank goodness.”  I can hear her relief.  “Well, how was it?  How is he?”
    I have to tell her something, but I am definitely not going to mention ‘truth or dare’.
    “We went to the Basque Hotel near Chinatown for dinner.  Great Basque food served family style.  We will have to go there someday.  Then down to the Buena Vista for coffee.  I’m not even sure I will see him again.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did you talk about?”
    “Who’s this?  Ali the investigative reporter?”  I laugh and shake my head. “We talked about ordinary things—his family, where he’s from—nothing special.”
    “Sorry.  I was worried about you.”
    “I’m okay.” I lie. “It was just an ordinary dinner date.”
    I still don’t know what happened. Was that goodbye?  But he said ‘Dream of me’. And I have to admit to myself that this evening did not cure me of Austen Raneley. He’s not awful.  He’s not stupid.  My attraction to him is still there and, now on top of that, there is ‘what I want to do with you.’ What should I do about that?
     
    * * *
     
    Sunshine floods into the bedroom.  It must be late morning, but when I look over at the clock on the floor next to my mattress, it is only 9 a.m. so the fog must have cleared early today.
    Sleeping on a mattress on a floor is like camping indoors and camping is something I’ve never enjoyed, even when my parents dragged my sister and me around to campgrounds in National Parks in summer.  I really have to buy a bed one of these days.
    Ali is in the kitchen spreading raspberry jam on a toasted English muffin when I come downstairs.  I pour myself a cup of coffee.
    “Should we continue our city tour today?  It is such a sunny day.  Maybe we could go down to the Palace of Fine Arts.”
    “I have other plans today,” Ali smiles, smugly.
    “Are you going someplace with Drew?”
    “Yes, there is a street demonstration downtown.”
    When Drew arrives, he invites me to join them, but I decline.  I know antiwar efforts are important and I have gone to one demonstration already, but today I want quiet.  Besides, if that boring Sam is going to be there, I do not want to see him.  He was so full of himself.
    “Maybe next time.”
    I decide to visit the Palace of Fine Arts by myself and take one bus, then transfer to another to get there.  It is a complex of elegant and ornate buildings left from the 1915 Panama Pacific Exposition.  It’s on the edge of the Marina District surrounded by a lagoon and a grassy tree-lined park.  A new science exhibition, called the Exploratorium, opened there recently.  I’ll have to come back another time and visit it.
    The sunshine casting shadows on the beautiful buildings, the fresh breeze off the Bay and the lush green setting are very invigorating.  I decide to walk home up past the beautiful old Victorian homes in Pacific Heights—avoiding Lake Street.  I definitely don’t want to be seen near there and be mistaken for a nutty fan or groupie.  It takes well over an hour to get back to the cottage.
    Ali still isn’t home.  I wonder if they are still at that antiwar demonstration or if she decided to jump into bed with him.
    The cottage is quiet. Should I finish reading The Glass Bead Game ?  No. I dig out my old copy of Jane Eyre and once again read about romance in the 19 th