...to Brad’s Porsche, steering the conversation back to the mundane...and clear of references to past summers, past issues, past lives.
He drove me ... in the car we’d once shared, past the house we’d once owned. Maintaining our historic brick-end colonial required as much effort as our marriage and Ex-ex had not been up to either task. ... I stared at those old trees wondering what had possessed me to accept his offer of a ride, let alone his half-baked request to share the bungalow.
In the open Porsche Brad’s repp tie flapped against his monogrammed shirt I no longer dropped off at Ceccarelli’s Cleaners on Springfield Avenue. ...it was still easy to imagine him the privileged Shady Side Academy student he’d been in Pittsburgh, about the time I was chewing popcorn in that middle row of the Paradise, reciting dialogue along with George Peppard and Audrey Hepburn.
I arrived at Selwyn fresh from a scholarship to Duke’s pre-college program. All summer I’d studied the ways of (the) khaki-and-madras crowd...pledge brothers flipping up their Izod collars, hosing down their Mustangs.
I wanted one of those careless boys born to that.
Be careful what you wish for.
Lilly Covington, The Chick Palace
A lakeside romp fueled by friendship, family,
and one old flame not averse to once again testing the waters.
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