Red Earth Review #1

couldn’t remove it. And afterward, his hands stayed a ring-size larger, and he couldn’t wear it, though he kept it in his dresser drawer—Rhonda had showed her.

So this man might well be married with a child. Anyway, he was old enough to understand fatherhood—to be aware of the needs of children. She was sure he was safe to talk to. He wouldn’t hurt her.

When he asked, “Can I join you?” she didn’t hesitate. There was no one else coming, and his height, the familiar military air and kind manner made her comfortable enough.

“Please do,” she said, and he sat and scooted in his chair. He smiled at her, and it made her feel light, content.

He asked what her name was.

“Dorcas,” she said.

“Well, that’s different,” he said. “And very lovely. I’m John, by the way.”

He picked up the other menu, the one at his place, and scanned it. “Are you hungry?” he said, “because I’m starving.

Why don’t I buy you lunch?”

“You don’t have to do that. I have enough money.”

“A young lady in a purple dress should always let a male acquaintance pay when he offers,” said John.

“You’re not my acquaintance.”

“But I’m becoming one, am I not? And if I buy your lunch, by the time it gets here we will be acquainted, and you could keep that money for a new pair of shoes, or some hair bands.”

“That would be my sister,” said Dorcas. “I don’t care about shoes.”

“What do you care about, then, Dorcas?”

“Education,” she said. “I’m going to be a teacher.” She spoke with a mild sense of irritation that he didn’t seem to understand: she wasn’t just a shallow girl.

“That’s a nice ambition,” said John, half-listening, glancing at a waitress who was hurrying by, trying to catch her attention.

“What grade do you want to teach?”

“I’m going to be a college professor.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Ohhhh,” he said. “That’s ambitious. So you’re smart.”

“Smart enough. I’d like to teach history, or philosophy.”

“And are those subjects girls teach?”

“Have you heard of Mary Wollstonecraft? Simone de Beauvoir? Simone Weil?”

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