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’ She watched, very interested. When I had put my socks on and started looking for my shoes she wrapped her arm around me and stayed with me. We fixed a quick breakfast of toast and juice, then waited in the living room. She cuddled close to me, as we were sitting in the same chair there was no other way. She was looking across the room at nothing. Her head tucked under my chin. She was idly playing with one of my hands, the other she had placed on her thigh. ‘Eddy?’ ‘Yes, love?’ ‘What did Paul say about my scar. The truth, please.’ ‘Ok, you should ask him. He thinks your scar is more of an accent to your beauty, not a detraction. I quite agree.’ ‘I couldn’t ask him. I just couldn’t. But that’s why you deliberately showed him my scar, you’re trying to repair my self image.’ ‘I suppose that’s a part of it. You’re a smart girl Laura, you know it’s not as bad as you seem to see it.’ ‘I guess, my family here keeps telling me that. We’d better go.’ We took the pickup, my truck needed gas.. " No. I don't like those stories."The conversation didn't go much farther, both of us having proved our points. No winner was a common situation for us.Our conversations were always the most important thing happening between us. Sometimes we didn't even get our clothes off, anxious that we were to talk about some subject that was causing long emails. We left happy and satisfied, not even noticing that we had barely touched each other. Athena could also appear with a new question, seemingly out of the blue—but I always wondered if she hadn't been pondering on it for days, throwing it to me like a ragged ball thrown to a dog."Who's the pervert?" Athena asked me once. "The writer or the reader?" Both," I replied. "Obviously." But who's the biggest?" she asked.It was a dark afternoon. It must have been late fall, early winter, the sky heavy and grey. It was just one in the afternoon and the bedroom was eerily dark. She was sitting against the headboard, my head lying on her lap, her head.
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