By Proxy(16)
“If you drink to excess.”
“Which so many do.”
He furrowed his brows, taken aback by her commentary, bristling a little from her remark. “Huh. Well, I just enjoy a glass now and then.”
She mumbled something under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Men will have their vices.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just something my mother used to say. ‘A woman chops and dices, still a man will have his vices.’” She repeated this in a singsong voice, then shrugged uneasily and made a face, looking down sheepishly.
Sam thought for a minute and then looked at her, perplexed. “You got me. I have no idea what that means.”
Jenny looked up, meeting his eyes, and hers were twinkling with amusement. She burst into giggles. “Nor do I! She always said it, and I never understood it! But, I didn’t want her to think I didn’t get it!”
Her face was transformed by her merriment and he chuckled, leaning toward her. “Is it like…a woman cooks while a man carouses?”
“Or a woman criticizes while a man indulges?”
“Or a woman works so hard making dinner and then a man doesn’t show up for it?”
“Or a woman threatens the man with violence, but he drinks anyway?”
Jenny was snorting quietly between giggles. “S-Stop. Please. I’m going to ch-choke.”
Sam sat back and watched her, his cheeks starting to ache from smiling so much. He pushed her Coke closer to her, and she took a big sip then wiped her eyes with her napkin.
“People are always saying things like that around here. Half the time I have no idea what they’re talking about.”
He shook his head at her. “Why don’t you ask?”
“I don’t know! No, I can’t! I mean, I grew up here. I’m supposed to know what these things mean. Heck, I’ve even used that expression before and other women have nodded at me like I’m very wise.” This confession made her start giggling again and she looked down at the table, shoulders trembling, trying to compose herself, but Sam heard tiny snorting sounds and knew she was losing the battle.
Sam couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched her. He couldn’t quite figure her out. She seemed kind of stuck-up sometimes, but someone who was truly haughty wouldn’t be able to laugh at herself like this. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had dinner with a woman who just laughed—really laughed with genuine amusement—at something funny and self-deprecating. He couldn’t imagine Pepper laughing at anything until tears slipped out of her eyes. Her eyes were always perfectly made up; she wouldn’t dare mess them up with a stray tear. Well, maybe for a photo op, but not because she found something funny. Anyway, Pepper didn’t find things funny; she found them amusing. She took life—her life, especially—so seriously. Laughing at herself would be unthinkable.
“I’m sorry, Sam.” She sniffled and chortled once more, still trying to compose herself. Her eyes were bright and shiny and still full of mirth and he knew she was on the verge of giggling again, just holding herself back. “You must think I’m crazy.”
Actually, I think that under those prickles you’re completely genuine and absolutely adorable.
“Nah, it’s okay.” He leaned back in his seat, watching her until she sobered under his perusal. “It’s nice to hear someone really laugh.”
“Oh, I love a good laugh. Your friends don’t laugh?”
He considered this. Yes, they laughed: at a well-constructed barb at someone else’s expense, the shared delight in someone else’s misfortune, or a droll observation with a sophisticated, witty delivery. They laughed. But it was different. It was night and day from Jenny’s good-natured giggling.
He shrugged noncommittally, turning his attention back to the pizza.
“It’s good, right?” She smiled at him shyly, biting into her third piece.
“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at her, wondering what she’d be like if she let herself loosen up even more. “It sure is.”
***
It only took fifteen minutes to walk home from the restaurant, but Jenny pointed out various Gardiner points of interest on the way: the restaurant where one of her brothers worked, the road that led across the river to the Roosevelt Arch and the high school where she worked. They walked over to the bridge and she paused, holding on to the railing, looking up at the sky.
“I love Montana,” he whispered.
“You do?”
“You never see this many stars in Chicago. Never see this many stars anywhere.”