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“It’s her house,” Miriam explains simply.
“Hers, but I thought…” Peach starts.
“I kept it for her as if it were my own. I suppose in some ways it still is, but it’s better that I live here.”
Her vague answer hardly explains a thing but it satisfies Peach.
“You’ll really like Cassidy,” she begins, changing the subject, “she has this crazy view of sex and God.”
“Oh?”
“Tell her?” Peach says.
I blush, though I’m not that uncomfortable. It seems I could never be embarrassed in this woman’s company. I feel as if I’ve known her forever. “I’ve told her that I live in my cunt.”
“That’s understandable.”
The way she says it, I know she understands without further explanation even though Peach seems to want me to continue.
“Everything is sexual to me, even lampposts,” I laugh. “The way everything is emotional to Peach.”
“You have one little hothead here in Samantha,” she jokes at Peach’s expense.
I don’t know why, but it seems perfectly all right for Miriam to call Peach by her right name, where it wasn’t just hours ago with Tasia.
“If you live in your cunt, Cassidy, then this is a good place for you to vacation,” Miriam says.
“Why is that?” I ask.
“The opportunities are vast here in our little seaside haven. Be sure not to miss them.”
I smile, feeling a little sheepish, as if my mother has just gently admonished me. I tingle all over too, wondering what it would be like to be swept into her arms.
“And Sam,” Miriam says almost sternly, “there are lots of Tasias in your life, perhaps it’s time you faced her.”
Peach nods, but is struck silent.
We talk more, but not so strangely as our earlier conversation. I’m so pleasantly taken with Miriam, I can’t imagine I had felt threatened by her. When we leave, however, there is an unexpected silence between Peach and me as we ride back to The Edge.
“What was that about ‘Tasias’?” I ask when we are in our room together.
“Nothing,” Peach says harshly.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, why would there be anything wrong?” she replies icily.
“There shouldn’t be, but you’re angry about something, and you’re not even hiding it,” I point out the obvious.
Peach sulks for some moments, eyeing me with a look I rarely see in her. It has me scared. “You’re wrong,” she finally blurts out at me. “It’s you.”
“What do you mean? What the hell have I done?” I ask.
“If I were a man I’d probably call you a prick tease. You get me so damned charged about some sexual things and then you drop me in the middle of my arousal with your sudden flare of judgment.”
“What are you talking about? When have I done that?” I ask, astounded.
“All the time. Ever since I’ve known you. Ever since you handed me that first story of yours. Most recently, with the dykes at Gram’s; but it’s been a dozen times before that too. I’m beginning to feel cut out of your life half the time, especially when I want right inside that nasty mind of yours.” She looks at me with a grin that seems pure evil.
