It Doesn’t Get Any Better Than This
I smile, Bette, at you in your blue jeans and white halter top. Your bare feet and painted red toes on the dashboard. I cringe a little, your hungry voice taking shrill bites out of a Journey song. We are traveling the dark highway headed for our favorite motel on the cape. The one where Aphrodite checks us in. I watch you unpack, everything folded then unfolded and hung. The morning is over the top in splendor and a walk will do us good, you say. We come to Provincetown center, and walk to the end of the pier. Bette … Continue reading It Doesn’t Get Any Better Than This