“Gerald, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. That makes everything fine; you thought it would be all
right if you did this behind my back. Strumpet--”
The man stood up. He was bigger than I, taller, wider, stronger. “Don’t
get nasty,” he said.
I wanted to get nasty. “You just shut up and leave this to my wife and
me.”
He didn’t want to shut up. He told me it was his business, too--and I
must have raised my hands as if to fight, because he hit me. It was a
good solid blow on the side of the head, and I sat down hard. It took a
while to focus my eyes, and when I did, he was standing over me, hands
on hips, waiting for me to get up.
I did not get up. Now, in earnest, I wished he wasn’t. This would be
the ideal time to put into practice my theoretical thinking. I slid
further back along the floor, and Gloria began to laugh. She told me I
looked like seven different varieties of a worm.