I think I still like the first version better, both because it just flowed out, and it was less ambivalent. But I did get some good feedback, and maybe I'm not the only one looking for a new beginning, here.
The part of me that looks for signs and omens think it must mean something that there is a Greek restaurant so close to our hotel. It’s not as fancy as our Occasion Place at home—call it El Greco or Malaka’s (Though, really, as I massage my run-over toe, I feel like the one jerkoff here) but it has jaunty blue-and-white tablecloths and smells like herbs and lamb. It feels like a good sign, especially for a trip that feels like such a compromise between “I” and “We”. Hopefully, Kevin will actually be as happy to see us as he was in his messages and it’s not just the comedy-troupe version of “We should get together real soon,” that nobody intends to agree to. The “Never on Sunday” music playing in the restaurant almost makes it feel like a real vacation, but my toe *really* hurts. I curse and rub it again before my girl comes back and catches me bent-over when she looks as fresh as a spring morning that, quite frankly, tries just a little too hard. (I help her do it—my first conspiracy.)
People usually smile when my girl and I step out together, as it were, both because she is getting more surfer-girl blonde by the instant, in addition to her being conventionally lovely (with a twist, as my acting teacher might say.) When they see me, what average people think they see is a conscientious older brother taking little sis out for a constitutional, or maybe, more likely, a stepbrother who has buried the hatchet., since we don’t really look alike. They love seeing me guide Corrine’s chair…up to the time that we might kiss and then their faces change in ways I try not to think about.
