Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I hang everything up, making the room all neat and organized, and then pause at the door to take one final look, picturing the room from Amon’s point of view. The dresses, the petticoats, the undergarments. Even the shoes and parasols.
And that chaise longue right there in the center of it all.
I imagine what it might be like to lie on that smooth, silk velvet with Amon Parrish on top of me and get lightheaded again.
But I shake it off, go outside, and meet him at the bottom of the porch, my modest Colonial façade tucked away until tomorrow and my McBooms persona taking over.
Amon nods at me as I walk up to him. “I like this version too, ya know. I like all your versions, Rosie.”
“Oh, my God, Amon. Calm the fuck down. They’re just clothes.”
He laughs. Probably at my change in personality. I guess I never thought about how much I transform every time I put on a new costume. “The clothes are all nice. But Rosie, it’s just you I like.”
I fall in next to him and we start walking down the alley, heading towards the edge of downtown. “OK, I guess it’s all out there now. So let’s talk about this. You’ve been back for over a month now and you’ve never looked at me twice.”
“That’s not true. I checked you out pretty hard that first week. You were the first person I saw when I got back. Remember? In the Rise and Shine getting coffee?”
“I do. That’s right. But you were never interested enough to get all flirty with me until you saw me in my Bishop dress.”
He clicks his tongue. “It’s a good look on you. I might even go so far to say that life in Bishop suits you better.”
“But why do you think that? This is a real question because to me, it’s just another role to play.”
“Oh, come on, Rosie. You’re not playing a role here.”
“What do you mean? Of course I am.”
“There’s no audience. It’s just you and that printing press in that little shop. It’s just you and those dresses in that little cottage. You’re not doing this for anyone but yourself.”
“Hm.” He’s right. And I already knew this because every time I start to feel a little guilty about coming here and spending money on the print shop and the cottage I justify it with happiness. “Is that a bad thing? That I do all this for selfish reasons?”
Amon glances down at me. “Of course not. Why would it be?”
“Well, when you explain it the way you did, it feels like maybe I’m hiding from something.”
“That’s not how I mean it. I was reacting to how natural it all was. And how you seem to really like the dresses and the old-fashioned shit they do here.”
We’ve reached my car so I stop and turn, leaning against it. I have no idea where he parked his truck. “I do like the dresses. I like how slow it is. I like how people try hard to be polite and friendly. And it’s not that Disciple isn’t like this, because it is. It’s just… different. I can’t really explain it.”
Amon agrees. “I know what you mean. Disciple is… entertainment. It’s like ‘friendly and polite’ had a baby with ‘fantastic and peculiar.’” This makes me laugh right out loud as he continues. “Revenant is kind of the same way. But Bishop is…”
“The ordinary,” I fill in for him. “The usual.”
“The mundane, amplified to a level of…”
“Extraordinary.”
“Exactly.” He points at me. “It’s fuckin’ weird how things go around in a circle like that. Echoes of each other. One extreme to another, some might say. I mean, people wanting cows in the backyard phased out a hundred years ago with the invention of the milkman because they’re too much work, ya know?”
“But the people who come here to visit, they eat it up, don’t they?”
“Doesn’t everyone want to try their hand at milking a cow if they know they don’t have to get up every morning at dawn and do it because it’s mandatory?”
I laugh. “I don’t mind milking a cow every now and then for fun, but I do not want one in the backyard.”
“That’s my point.”
“So it’s all just… romanticized.” I sigh. “I like it here because it’s fake.”
Amon turns to me with a small smile on his face that is mostly filled with sympathy, not happiness. “It’s not fake, Rosie. It’s… a dream. And doesn’t everyone wish they could spend two mornings a week inside their dream?” When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Anyway, I’m parked over there. When I come up behind you, pull out and I’ll follow you home.”
It all suddenly feels a little ridiculous. Him acting like I need a bodyguard or something. “You don’t need to, Amon. I’m fine. I drive the highway between here and Disciple by myself all the time.”