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Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, Canada
My virtue is that I say what I think, my vice that what I think doesn't amount to much.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Black Olives

"Nine months later, I run into David for the first time since our breakup. All year I've been dreading this moment, but always dressing in expectation of it, because when I do see him, finally, I want to look good.

I'm standing in Rogerson's Emporium, over by the olives, when it happens. I hear the door open and I glance around and see him walking in. I recognize at once the bright flag of his white hair, but I've got my back to him and he doesn't notice me.

This feeling goes through me, like my cell phone's on vibrate and it's going off in my pocket -- like I'm experiencing a minor electric shock. Like I can't move. Maybe he won't see me. Won't recognize the back of my head, the jacket I'm wearing, the once familiar shape of my ass."

So what Virginia does is climb into the back seat of his car. She covers herself up with his stuff and goes along for the ride. Okay, I thought, poor little thing has been hurt, perhaps for the first time; maybe I won't be able to make it through this book. I was blown away when Martha Tod Dudman reveals that Virginia is a 50 year old dumpee. This for some reason added new interest to the plot and humour, too. During the better part of the day Virginia spends under cover in David's car, his garage and his home we discover that young love and old love are not so different after all. Perhaps that's what I liked best about Virginia, she showed that 50 year olds can act out along with the thirty somethings. It's light and amusing. I'm thinking it might be a perfect beach read, not that my half century old body could bear beach scrutiny.

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