“Is that right, Helen?”There we lay, exhausted from our exertions, wet with each other’s fluids, and she is making up rhymes.“No, it isn’t right. We have not made it to the Eiffel Tower yet.”Katie sniffed. “Well bugger the Eiffel Tower. How about, Helen was from New York City, fucked Katie’s cunt and sucked her titty.”“Stop it you, silly mad bitch.”Katie rolled onto her side and looked at me.“Ah, but I am your mad bitch, aren't I Helen?”“Stop it you silly thing,” I answered.“Ah but you love me saying it.”Little surprises me, but Katie was correct. I was never that crude or dirty-mouthed, but with Katie, it just did not seem that crude. It may have been childish, but it was also an unshackled crazy feeling of freedom, silliness and daring, an unrestrained assing about. Upon reflection, I suppose that should have sounded a warning bell to my more pragmatic brain cells, but… well dammit, I did not want to challenge it or question it. I did not want to examine or dissect it… I did not. .. Preston. Jesus, he sounds like a country club guy. Is he? Big-shot parents? Silver spoons and shit?" He comes from a good family, yes. But he's not stuffy or anything. He can't help it if his parents named him Preston! Don't be so unfair about this, Freddie. Just because somebody's family's got a little money, it doesn't make them war criminals or something!" You think he wants to -- you know -- get back together? You think he wants to reconsider?" Freddie. I told you, my mother is the one who invited him to dinner, not me." But first he called you, right? He didn't call your mother, talk about old times." He called the house. He wanted to talk to me, yes. But he got her first. That first time he called, I wasn't even there. I was at work. She invited him to dinner. Thursday. A week from this Thursday." But you've talked to him since then, right?" Yes. He called later, and that's when I talked to him." That cocksucker!... He wants to get back together with you." Freddie, I don't.
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