"Will they let us in like this?" Gayle asked, pulling at her soaked t-shirt."They don't care," I said. "As long as we order something."We reached the restaurant in a few minutes. The cool air inside was adelight. We both drank several glasses of iced tea along with our meals.Gayle did not order much. That was no surprise, given how skinny shewas, I followed her cue and just got some dumplings and an egg roll.Our conversation covered every topic under the sun. Music. movies, food- all of the stuff that really matters in life. I was fascinated by her.She was at least as much a movie buff as me. It was always great to beable to talk to someone who immediately understood my cinema references.She asked as many questions as she answered, and I found myselfprofoundly attracted to her. When the meal was done, I paid the bill andwe headed back out into the heat.I offered to walk Gayle to her apartment building. She gladly acceptedand pointed us in the right direction. She said that she rarely. Leaping bull-frogs everywhere. She taught her three-yr. old son, Ayan, to say ‘Bull-frog’, just yesterday. ‘Boo- fog’ he repeated. The boy was learning to speak much later than his sister. It worried her a little, but not too much. It worried his school teacher more. Everything worried his school teachers more than it worried her. That’s why she never talked to them. Too much awkward conversation — pretense to appear more interested in the lives of the students than they were. ‘Why don’t you just breast-feed the kid?’ she found herself saying in her mind to Miss Lora Bransworth, whose nagging about Ayan’s late speech developments bugged the hell out of her. Why the hell did she care so much anyway? Miss Lora Bransworth was 40. If she loved kids so much, why didn’t she have any? No husband, neither. But, a blond career woman with real breasts and great legs, Lora was still on the market. Aditi imagined that her husband had a thing for Miss Lora. He always got her into a corner and.
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