Page 41 of Seasoned
She’d had a haircut recently. Her hair was tapered extra short in the back and stacked in shiny, lustrous curls. He missed messing up her hair with his fingers or having her sweat out her neatly arranged style. Whether she was freshly dressed and put together like now, or laughing as they lay in bed together—her hair flat and face makeup free—Renee was a sexy woman.
He couldn’t let her go yet. Seeing her up close and hearing her voice again had reminded him of how much he needed her and how empty the past couple of weeks had been without her.
Clive trailed Renee into the living room. “Where are you headed?”
She tossed down her purse and rested her hands on her hips. “None of your business.”
“You look amazing.”
“Don’t try to flatter me,” she said in an arctic tone.
Fair enough. He had work to do.
“I’m sorry I left you at the hotel restaurant, but there’s something you should know. I didn’t respond to you because I...uh...I didn’t, I couldn’t, read the text.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t read the text? You got it, didn’t you?” she asked irritably.
“You don’t understand.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and then opened them again to look at her. “I couldn’t read the text, Renee.”
“I heard you the first time.” Her eyes widened. “Oh. Are you saying…?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” he said harshly.
Her mouth fell open. “Clive, why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you were me… No, if our roles were reversed, would you have told me?”
She remained silent.
He exhaled and pulled in a little more courage with the next inhaled breath. “I can read a little bit, but not much. Struggled in school my whole life, but because I was an athlete, they let me sail through. I never wanted you to find out and figured I could delay that as long as possible. But the night of the reading event, it hit me how much more educated than me you were. So that’s it.”
“That’s why you use the recorder. That’s why you had me write down my name and number.”
He nodded, heat burning his cheeks. When she looked at him with sympathy-filled eyes, he snapped, “Don’t do that! I’m not stupid!”
“I never said you were. I don’t think you are.”
They were both silent for a few seconds, neither looking at the other until she asked softly, “Does anyone else know?”
“Very few people,” he admitted. “Sometimes I can figure words out, but it’s a struggle. I want to be able to read stories with my granddaughter and help her with her homework when Chelsea’s at work, but sometimes I think it’s too late. I don’t have the brain necessary to learn what I need to. I’m too old.”
“You’re never too old. Have you considered taking classes?”
“I signed up for classes at the Adult Literacy Center. I’ve signed up before and didn’t do well, but I decided to try again.”
He hoped the classes weren’t a waste of time again, but one thing he did notice, there were a lot more people than the first time he tried. Maybe the stigma was disappearing from illiteracy, but he saw all ethnic groups, young, old, and in-between.
“I can help, if you want,” Renee said gently.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I offered.”
“No.”
“I’m a teacher, for goodness’ sake.”
“I need to do this on my own, once and for all.”
