Chapter 8 - Page 105 - Talking Eyes

    “It’s not going to happen,” Rhasha insisted. “I’m staying with ugly old you, but the pinkie finger idea will work anyway.”

    Jim laughed. He knew he was old and ugly but he also knew Rhasha was teasing.

    It was late in the afternoon. Jim and Rhasha hadn’t eaten all day. “Do you want to get something to eat?” Jim asked.

    “Sure, Jim,” she said, “whenever you do.”

    Jim put his socks on and slipped his feet into his shoes. He pushed his shirttail inside his trousers and worked it all the way around until his belt was completely exposed. Jim started to stand up, but Rhasha stood up first. She gently pushed down on his shoulder, as a signal for him to stay. She placed her hand on his head to steady herself as she climbed onto the sofa. She stepped behind Jim and put her left leg over his shoulder, then swung her right leg around the opposite side of his neck. As she straddled his shoulders, her feet hung down in front of his chest. Jim placed his arms around her legs. She balanced herself by putting both hands on his forehead.

    “OK, sweetheart,” she said, “I’m ready to go.”

    “Rhasha, dear,” Jim replied, “do you want to go back to the hospital-as a patient?”

    Rhasha hesitated, trying to figure out what Jim meant. “Not really,” she finally said. “Do you want me to?”

    “No, but if I stand up, your head will go through the ceiling.”

    The ceiling was made of bamboo strips. Rhasha giggled. She gently spurred Jim in the ribs with her heels. “Gitty up, horsy,” she said. “I’ll bend over until we get outside.”