The U Turn 02:27

The old man let out a sigh combined with a laugh, backwards, facing the counter.

"I thought you were having a moral crisis."

Not a characteristic of Silver, behind him, small.

"I want to be able to say with confidence— if a thing is good. Excellent. People say all the time. That's a good film, a good song, a great book."

"And they are only giving their opinion."

"Yes."

"And that's not good enough."

"No."

The old man was always giving a qualification. It irritated Goldy. The greatest irritation was set off by the prelude "a normal intelligent person would...".

She sat at the table, the old kitchen table, square, notebook in front of her, and a book, a good one, because what else? The old man would object.

Great Expectations.

"I can't finish that one," Silvie said. "The girl pisses me off."

She had said that about all the characters in Gatsby.

"No, not the same. I said they evoked no sympathy to the end."

"Maybe that's the point."

"Yes, I think it is. Not a condemnation. An observation."

She wasn't sure why she was remembering it now. It irked as judgement, and obviously it wasn't meant. Not personal. People read differently.

She could feel the Padre reading her silently. Trying to. And what did he see?

A woman mid-forties, who had let herself go, to live a little; wear in the face, wrinkles as happens with three grown children. But she still took care to dress fashionably, maybe a bit too much jewelry as decoration, as distraction from what foundation and eyeshadow could not hide. Mascara to fill out thinning lashes, hair coloring to hide the grey and thicken, as she heard coloring added volume.

But then she caught glimpse of her reflection in the glass. Their reflection. Hers a cynical one; and his still sympathetic; with patience. She took a breath and her face relaxed. Maybe he hadn't noticed. She thought she'd try again.

"I'm..."