Sunday afternoons passed blissfully. I felt so good being with Cliesh and I had little sense of what she might be giving up because of me.
I told her about going to the Jazz Club with Sam. I didn"t tell her that we got drunk on the El D. “The quartet played My Funny Valentine. I thought about you. I wanted you to be there, Cliesh.”
She drew back. I"d never seen her like this, flat, injured eyes, lips shrunk to a crimson slit. “I should think not! Riff raff and you drinking with that fellow, Sam. You went there with girls.”
“There were no girls, Cliesh.”
“You were drunk last night. There"s wine on your breath.”
Some Fridays Cliesh went to concerts in Glasgow. It was wonderful when she talked about the music she"d heard. I wanted to tell her that the song said how much I loved her. But,
