Spilled Milk: Or Why We Cry
There are a lot of sayings that she just doesn't understand. Little comments, pithy witticisms, and downright clichés that people utter like truisms when they lack the ability to say anything else. Like, for example, having your cake and eating it too. What the hell does that mean? Isn't the whole point of cake to eat it? Sure, eventually, it goes away, but, for days on end, you have a perfectly edible cake. She has stopped eating, buying, or looking at cakes because of that expression.
Although she may not always understand the words coming out of their mouths, Catherine Gale can always read people. It's part of her job. For the past week, she's been using these skills on her boyfriend. Sometime, during the middle of the week, she realized that it was hopeless. Not trying to understand him, that's pathetically easy.
The past few weeks had been fun. He was a wonderful date. He was kind and, although this week was a definite exception, attentive. But this week, he's broken four dates. He made one lunch date, but spent most of it staring out the window of the restaurant. He'd been jumpy and surly and nearly yelled when she mentioned Mac. And that was when she knew. He'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. That expression she understood perfectly.
Harmon Rabb, Jr., and Sarah Mackenzie, the only, had slept together. She was hurt. She was angry. And she was embarrassed. She rubbed a hand over her face. God, she was embarrassed. She should have known better - she did know better.
The day he pretended to marry her. That was when she knew that he was firmly committed to the Colonel, even if he had yet to realize it. But she had forgotten all that, or pushed it to the back of her mind, when he called her office and asked her out to dinner. Warnings and cautions flew from her brain to be replaced by images of handsome naval commanders in dress whites. Although she knew better, at least once a day, she found herself yelling at herself for picturing her wedding to him.
The buzzing of her intercom interrupted her self-pity. When her secretary announced the presence of her boyfriend, she bit back a sigh. It was well past time to end the charade. It was time to abort the mission. Catherine Gale, your new mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find someone who loves you back.
Rising from her desk, she met him half-way across the room. Grabbing his arm, she smiled up at him. "Well, this is a surprise. Why don't I use this as an excuse for an early lunch?"
He smiled back at her. "That was the whole point, Ma'am."
She pulled the door shut behind them. "I know the perfect place." It was quiet and out of the way. She hardly ever went there, which was the whole reason she picked it. After today, she never wanted to be reminded of this afternoon again.
As she wandered back to her office alone, she pondered the old clichés again. The saying she always understood but never comprehended was crying over spilled milk. She knew it meant that there was no sense in crying over things you couldn't have, but weren't they always the things that make you cry the most?
There are a lot of sayings that she just doesn't understand. Little comments, pithy witticisms, and downright clichés that people utter like truisms when they lack the ability to say anything else. Like, for example, having your cake and eating it too. What the hell does that mean? Isn't the whole point of cake to eat it? Sure, eventually, it goes away, but, for days on end, you have a perfectly edible cake. She has stopped eating, buying, or looking at cakes because of that expression.
Although she may not always understand the words coming out of their mouths, Catherine Gale can always read people. It's part of her job. For the past week, she's been using these skills on her boyfriend. Sometime, during the middle of the week, she realized that it was hopeless. Not trying to understand him, that's pathetically easy.
The past few weeks had been fun. He was a wonderful date. He was kind and, although this week was a definite exception, attentive. But this week, he's broken four dates. He made one lunch date, but spent most of it staring out the window of the restaurant. He'd been jumpy and surly and nearly yelled when she mentioned Mac. And that was when she knew. He'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. That expression she understood perfectly.
Harmon Rabb, Jr., and Sarah Mackenzie, the only, had slept together. She was hurt. She was angry. And she was embarrassed. She rubbed a hand over her face. God, she was embarrassed. She should have known better - she did know better.
The day he pretended to marry her. That was when she knew that he was firmly committed to the Colonel, even if he had yet to realize it. But she had forgotten all that, or pushed it to the back of her mind, when he called her office and asked her out to dinner. Warnings and cautions flew from her brain to be replaced by images of handsome naval commanders in dress whites. Although she knew better, at least once a day, she found herself yelling at herself for picturing her wedding to him.
The buzzing of her intercom interrupted her self-pity. When her secretary announced the presence of her boyfriend, she bit back a sigh. It was well past time to end the charade. It was time to abort the mission. Catherine Gale, your new mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find someone who loves you back.
Rising from her desk, she met him half-way across the room. Grabbing his arm, she smiled up at him. "Well, this is a surprise. Why don't I use this as an excuse for an early lunch?"
He smiled back at her. "That was the whole point, Ma'am."
She pulled the door shut behind them. "I know the perfect place." It was quiet and out of the way. She hardly ever went there, which was the whole reason she picked it. After today, she never wanted to be reminded of this afternoon again.
As she wandered back to her office alone, she pondered the old clichés again. The saying she always understood but never comprehended was crying over spilled milk. She knew it meant that there was no sense in crying over things you couldn't have, but weren't they always the things that make you cry the most?
