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May 16, 2002 a war that's cold "What's this?" Stretched out across my bed, I looked up from the book I was reading.  She was standing in the doorway to my bathroom, a book in one hand, a towel in the other.  "The Confessions of St. Augustine," I replied. She put the book down and used both hands to dry her freshly showered hair.  My garish pink bathroom looked almost stylish with a beautiful, naked woman playing the part of a bathroom door.  "Yes, thanks.  I can read, you know.  Why is this particular book in your bathroom?  That's what I meant." "So you did," said I.  "Why that book in that bathroom, is that what you mean?"  I was stalling, and not because I didn't know the answer.  I did.  I just couldn't figure out why she had to ask a question like that. "Look, it's no big deal.  I just thought this book in this bathroom, any bathroom, was weird, that's all.  Anyway, what's it about?" She turned her back to me as I opened my mouth to speak.  What an ass!  She couldn't see me, soundlessly opening and shutting my mouth like a baby bird awaiting a worm.  When the ass-stifled sound arose in my throat, I heard myself answer, "It's about the confessions of a saint.  Saint Augustine."  Now, I could see her reflection in the mirror.  She was brushing her teeth and humming from the back of her foamy throat.  Was my response satisfactory?  "I'm fascinated by penitence.  Addicted to it, really."  I was yelling now, trying to be heard above the running water and gargling nude.  "Legend has it, I had no umbilical hookup in utero and I fasted through gestation." Nothing.  I watched her comb the tangles out of her long, honey-colored hair.  "My belly-button's cosmetic!"  I sat up, still addressing the subject.  "In first grade,  while my classmates practiced Cold War 'duck and cover' drills, crouching under  desks at the sound of  practice sirens, I would run out to the playground and lie on a wooden seesaw, arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross, waiting to be nuked for all Mankind." I couldn't see what she was doing to her eyes, but her face was real close to the mirror now.  She had panties and bra on.  I must have missed that.  "In high school, I wouldn't let the orthodontist remove my braces even after my teeth were straight."  She stepped into a sun-dress and sandals in one motion. She finally spoke.  "I had a nice time...  mostly."  She picked up her purse and planted a kiss on my forehead.  I said nothing as she turned to leave.  Did she move like a little girl before?  At the bedroom door, she hesitated and, without looking back at me asked, "What's a cold war?" "Nothing," I replied. "Nothing but a war that's cold."

©  2002 by the beastmaster