Not long after, his right hand again settled on my left shoulder and began its pulsation. I felt totally cornered by him and imprisoned by his large p...esence.After finishing our beer he asked if I liked cognac. I gave a noncommittal shrug. Next, getting up he moved to the kitchen and retrieved two balloon glasses, before pouring us each a large tot. Upon returning to the couch he lit a cigar. When he sat down I got a cognac lecture and a demonstration of how to warm the glass in your hand. He. Sometimes like frail, disembodiedspirits. Sometimes like convenient soft flesh, smooth, with wet holesfor poking. Maybe we're mere property, or trophies, or notches on a belt.Maybe servants expected to do their bidding. Maybe all of these things atonce. Well, I'll tolerate none of that. In a way this is a test of yourown sexism. And if there is any, it's a way to rid you of it. Becauseafter you've walked a mile in my shoes, you'll know what it's like." Shepaused. "We need to share. He made the call to go against your orders, and send you out. You did the right thing, by trying to stop him. There are plenty of ‘ifs’ in your memory, but it all starts with Anderson forcing you to go out.” He sounds so sincere that I want to believe him. What he says makes sense, logically, but emotionally, I don’t know. “Have you taken the letter to his wife, yet?”I shake my head, not wanting to speak. “And the other thing?” I shake my head again. I haven’t gone into detail about Michael. I’ll let you know, later on today or first thing tomorrow.”Based on how Lynette asked her inquiry, I was pretty sure she was up for it, so I answered Mr. Williamson’s earlier question. “It will be an honor to play a song or two at Paul and Rick’s funeral, if their families are good with it.”“That last song ... play that one for sure, will you,” Mr. Williamson said as he lifted his arm from around Lynette’s shoulder. He then added, “You guys did well this morning. From what I saw, you really.
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