.. the spring before the war ... my grandfather sat on the veranda of a small restaurant, and sang about love to a girl that was much like you. Her name was Miranda. My family often laughs about Grandpa and Miranda on the veranda.”She smiled, though his story was horrible, and the wine was almost as nasty tasting as the beer. This is culture, bitch, she told herself. Get that shit down, and like it. She took another sip, willing her nose to stop tingling. Do not sneeze on this man, she told herself.Ralph blabbed on. She wondered if he’d read this shit somewhere, or if he was making it up as he went along. The guy had a career if he wanted it, she thought. She wasn’t sure if it was seductable quality material, but he did say funny things every now and then, although sometimes he probably didn’t intend on them being so funny. She just smiled and nodded.He seated her on his bed, and sat beside her holding her hand in his paw. He asked her about what she was studying, and where she had. But as his face neared hers she smelled the stale alcohol and turned her head."Go brush your teeth. Your breath could kill at twenty paces."He stood back up and put both hands to his head."Please, not so loud," he whined. He looked around again. "I can't find my toothbrush." Pick up the phone and dial zero," said Julie. "Tell whoever answers you need a toothbrush."Julie thought about what she'd just said. She knew quite well who would answer that phone, but she hadn't told Roger that she'd met his uncle. She felt a little like she was sneaking around behind his back, and then pushed that guilt away. If he'd have acted like a real husband yesterday, she'd never have met Bob at all, and would be lying, freshly deflowered, in her honeymoon bed."Yeah, OK," he said. He turned around and left the bathroom.She heard his voice talking, and reached for the little bottle of shampoo sitting huddled with other little bottles on one corner of the Jacuzzi. It took the whole bottle, but she got her.
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