memories are mostly of him sitting in his study, reading Latin or Greek from some musty old book.Rome was his specialty, but I think he really hated the Romans. He was always talking about how stupid they were, how derivative their culture was. How no Roman ever had an original thought in their entire history."
"Why dedicate his whole life to the study of a people he did not care for?"
"Good question." She downed the remaining contents of her glass and reached for the bottle, her soft breasts brushing against my thigh. "To tell the truth, I thinkRome killed him."
"An interesting hypothesis." I watched her place the bottle on the floor between her feet.
"I think he felt trapped, felt very unsatisfied. There he was, a tenured professor, with a nice house, a very nice wife and such a sweet little girl, but none of that made him happy. He didn't really have any other interests outside his work, and he didn't really like his work."
"But it sounds like he found antiquity quite fascinating, even if he did not care for the subjects of his study."
"My Mom told me Dad would've liked to have done his research onGreece , notRome , but where he got his doctorate it was eitherRome or nothing. And it was the only grad school he could get intoand get funding, so he didn't have any choice."
"As a professor, he should have been able to do any research he wanted."
"True, but I think Dad chose to wallow in the trap. Maybe he'd been feeling sorry for himself for so long, he didn't know any other way."
I studied the fine lines of her jaw, the aquiline nose, her high, scalloped cheek bones. So much like Anya, but different, so totally different once I was able to get to know her as her own person and not the ghost of another. "You seem to possess tremendous insight."
"You think so?"
"Certainly."
She again touched my forearm. Her hand lingered, stroking the thick, black hair on my arms, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. In a deep, distant place, there was a tingle.
"May I ask you something else?" I said quietly.
"Sure." She folded her legs in front of her and turned her body toward me. "Ask me anything."
"As I have stated previously, I am most flattered by your attention, but I am puzzled that you would be interested in me when there are so many younger men available. I look around, and there are so many strapping young lads. Why am I the one who arouses your interest?"
Nicole laughed heartily. "Al, you're not that old. Mid-thirties, maybe late-thirties. I don't think you're old at all."
I smiled broadly. "You might be surprised if you truly knew my age."
She scrutinized me closely and completely. "Well, if you'rethat old, you're pretty well preserved."
"Ah ha!" I laughed. "Yes, well preserved. That is it."
Nicole touched my hair with the palm of her hand. "Very well preserved. You're hair feels so soft. I'd say silken, but - it's more like it's smooth, like a marble statue."
I reached up and touched the hand stroking my hair. Our fingers intertwined, then dropped slowly to the space between us on the futon, lingering together until I gently pulled my hand away.
"I do not seem that old to you?"
"Well, first of all, you're not so old that you're not good looking. You remind me of some of those very pale,very handsome British actors, like a young Lawrence Oliver, with even more charm."
Kern's "Old Worldcharm," but it was just supposed to work for tips. He had never said it would work elsewhere.
"Youare older, Al, no question about that, but that means you're just mature, a lot more mature than theseboys . I'm not really interested in them. I mean, a few years makes a big difference."
"You have had experience with less mature people?"
"Damn right, and I'm tired of it." Her head bowed for a moment, then rose. "You seem like a gentle, kind person. You're intelligent and easy to talk to. You seem to understand things, and you're funny, too. Plus, you're a good cook, a neat housekeeper and you don't have any roommates. What else would a girl want?"
Funny? That is not an adjective I have often heard another person use to describe me. Perhaps, as the Americans say, funny strange, as opposed to funny ha ha.
Nicole slapped me on the thigh. "Well, I showed you mine, now show me yours."