See last post for Part 1, or Sidney Says for brief synopsis-
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about” she said. “I don’t need it at all. I got the yen out of my blood a long time ago.”
“Did you?” he asked, making it sound more like a taunt than a question.
The man got more annoying with every minute. She looked forward to the after dinner debriefing with her husband when she’d tell him about her ordeal. Why had she been the one they’d seated next to the aging artist and why had he focused his ridicule on her? Who was he really and where had he come from in the first place? Her husband would have some answers.
“Too bad the rain didn’t hold off long enough for us to finish our coffee outside” her husband said, turning the intermittent switch on the car’s windshield wipers to high. Sheets of dark water poured down the glass while the wipers thrashed desperately to keep up. She leaned her forehead against the passenger side window and saw nothing but opaque phantoms floating in the steam rising from the hot summer pavement. A fluorescent glow from the dashboard lit her husband’s handsome, angular face.
“Couldn’t come soon enough for me,” she muttered.
“Cheery, aren’t we?” He sounded testy. Maybe he’d enjoyed being ignored by his dinner partners about as much as she’d appreciated her companion’s singular focus. He inched the car out of the restaurant parking space, checking side and rearview mirrors repeatedly as the visibility shut down to zero.
“They sat me next to that strange man who wouldn’t let me alone. He was relentless,” she moaned to secure sympathy; her husband offered none.
“He’s a really famous American artist. You’re just not used to creative people” he said, concentrating on pulling out onto the main street leading away from the restaurant.
“Don’t be ridiculous” she snapped back, surprised by her own anger. “I’m a creative person myself, so I appreciate artists.”
“Then what was annoying about him?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be so judgmental. He’s very successful. That probably made you feel inferior.”
“You don’t understand” she hissed to the wet window. “He was the one being judgmental without right or cause. He’s creepy. He made me very uncomfortable.” Her husband glanced over at her talking into the window. His look said she might be speaking a dead language.