Read Signs of Struggle for Free Online

limestone bridge. Gotcha wandered off to an uncut area of tall grass and weeds and hunkered down. She looks like a football center when she does that, ready to hike the ball. She finished and came to my side. We turned back to the school, crossing deserted parking lots, maneuvered around a corner of the building, and nearly bumped into a woman and her dog.
     
    The lady, petite with short blonde hair and looking like maybe she ran too much for someone in her 40's, stopped suddenly. She wore Bermudas and a baby doll black tee that showed off her light hair. Nice figure. Good proportions. Skimpy sandals completed the outfit. Her toenails were painted bright red. I’m sure there’s another name other than red on the bottle. “Classic Carmine” maybe, or Annie’s favorite, “Matt Adore Red.” Oh, Annie. I swallowed hard.
     
    The woman’s right hand fluttered to her face and she said, "Oh, you startled me!" She had blue eyes Karen would have called periwinkle. Her dog, one of those trendy little Jack Russell Terriers, bristled and lunged, held back by the woman’s firm grip on his leather leash. Gotcha wiggled her little corkscrew tail and sat down next to me, prompting pride.
     
    "Sorry," I said. Then, “I like your dog." Which was true. Just not my style. Too noisy. The only thing noisy about Gotcha is her snoring, and even that is soothing.
     
    "Thank you," she replied, working to control the dog. "Milton!" she said firmly, tugging hard once. The dog quickly sat beside her, eyes alert on his owner. "Your dog is very nice, too. English Bulldog?"
     
    "Yes, she is. A bit big for a female, but we didn't buy her for the show ring. We bought her to be our family dog," I said, looking at Gotcha to avoid staring at the attractive woman. The personal information had slipped out, and now I couldn’t retrieve it. An opening I regretted immediately.
     
    "What's her name?"
     
    "Gotcha.”
     
    "I love it!" the woman laughed, smiling at Gotcha. "She's very well behaved. Do you hear that, Milton?” Then, turning away from her dog, "Please excuse my poor manners. My name is Olivia Olson, 'Liv' for short. I teach English here at Rockbluff High."
     
    "Thomas O' Shea."
     
    "Nice to meet you, Thomas. You're new in town. Welcome to Rockbluff."
     
    "How…?"
     
    Liv smiled. "Small town. Everyone knows everyone."
     
    "I should have thought of that," I said.
     
    A smile lit up her face, an engaging, honest smile. "Since this is a small town, and we all know you're new, you might as well come clean with your origins," she said.
     
    "I grew up a little downstate, in Clinton. And you?"
     
    "Right here. Born and raised. Went off to Cedar Falls to get educated and came back here right after I got my M.A. and started teaching, which was many, many years ago. Previous millennium, in fact. My students love to hear my stories about when I was young, shortly after the earth’s crust started to cool."
     
    "I don't think it was too long ago," I said, smiling. She looked fit and energetic, an ex-cheerleader on Surge? I wanted to get out of there and was mad at myself for extending our chat.
     
    Sometimes, at night, dreaming, I think I’m sleeping with Karen, and when I wake up without her beside me, it breaks my heart. For months I was not attracted to women, my libido in solitary confinement somewhere. Maybe Peoria. I would look at females with nice figures, like Liv Olson, but look at them as if I were considering the conformation of a purebred Chesapeake Bay Retriever at the Westminster. I thought I was dying.
     
    She said, "You're very nice to say so, but believe me, it was a long time ago. So where's your family? Will they be joining you when you get a house?"
     
    I was stunned for a moment, but only a moment. Her question was not unexpected. I had made provision for it, so what did I expect?
     
    "You said you acquired Gotcha to be your family dog. I just thought…" her voice faded. My stomach knotted. That will never go away,