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I could almost feel his gaze and he drew nearer and then the same grin I had seen on his first pass came into clear view. He stopped… right beside me and with a nod of his hatted head beckoned me to climb in. Country music was playing on the radio. Good country music. It was I recall T.G. Shepherd’s classic song, “I Loved ‘Em, Everyone.” The first thing I wanted to do was start singing along. I was a happy cowboy. I’d gotten a ride and I could just bet he was going to Pueblo, too. “Howdy, cowboy!” He said with the closed-mouth smile you tend to see from cowboys who chew tobacco and eschew dentists. “Going Rodeo-in’?” “Yes-siree,” I responded cheerfully, trying to assess this guy. Some thing told me that something wasn’t right. What was that thing? It was like when you walk into a room decorated early American and there sits an IKEA piece. He had the Tony Lama’s—snakeskin, very expensive. The cowboy cut jeans looked like they may have logged some hours in the saddle, but he was. I want you to express them all.’ A wash of unwanted emotions emerged, in the wake of the public revelation. Anger, bitterness, fear, misery, ennui, all of these tore their way up through her vocal chords. Twenty years, they’d been married. Twenty years, of quietly raising Jenny, of being the perfect mother, of being Michael’s perfect wife. Twenty years. When Amanda had been Tamsin’s age, she vowed to see the river Ganges at Benares by the time she was thirty. Then she’d met Michael, and started dating him. They’d got married, and Jenny had followed ayear later. Amanda’d spent her entire thirtieth year at home. She’d wanted to wander halfway around the world by the age of thirty, for twelve years, she’d not gone further than Benidorm, and the rest of the time, she’d not gone much further than the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. Amanda struggled to hold the emotions back, but the emotions were too strong, too insistent. Clenching the handset in her fist like a bone weapon, she.
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