He opened his mouth to run down the short list, but for some reason didn’t want to risk offending her. She seemed so straitlaced, but not in a nerdy way. On the contrary, the conservative getup was appealing. He wondered if it was real or just for show.
That hair. Those legs. All wrapped up in a very pretty package he didn’t dare touch.
He hedged an innocent smile. “Not too many. A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”
“I see. That’s perfectly normal. It’s not uncommon for adult non-readers to be able to recognize some words.”
“Adult non-reader? Is that what I’m called now?”
“It’s a little awkward-sounding, I know,” she acknowledged with a wan smile.
“It’s better than some of the things I’ve been called.” With a grimace, he faced her and memories flowed into words.
“You know, I used to ride the subway to school and I’d see men and women in suits reading the newspaper. They all looked so smart and so important.”
He swallowed hard, looked past her at the countryside rolling by. Suddenly aware of what he was about to say, he hoped she would stop him from making a fool of himself. But Cara remained silent, patient, waiting for him to continue.
He met her eyes. “Sometimes I’d sneak a peek at what they were reading, and even though the words always looked jumbled up, I couldn’t keep my eyes away. Those letters were like a drug.”
A band of dread, mixed with anger, tightened around his chest as he thought about all the times in his life when he tried to make sense of a word, or a group of words, and failed miserably.
“One morning, I was standing next to this man reading the sports section and I couldn’t stand it anymore. Before I knew what I was doing, I pointed to the caption underneath the picture and asked him what it said.”
Alex felt his spine go rigid and he downed the rest of his beer before continuing.
“He gave me a funny look and said real loud, ‘That’s the guy from the Yanks who struck out last night and lost the game, bottom of the ninth, you can’t read that?’”
Shame hooked its claws and dug into him like it had happened yesterday, and he bowed his head and traced his finger along the top of the beer bottle.
Her voice snuck past the pain. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen,” he replied. “A short time later I stopped going to school.”
It was the only time he’d ever given up on something.
When she didn’t say anything, a knot of embarrassment sank low into his stomach. Avoiding her eyes, he curved his hand around the back of his neck and leaned his elbow against the door.
He felt stupid for confiding in her, a perfect stranger. Yet it was her eyes, caring and warm, that drew him in and caused him to talk about a story he’d never shared with anyone.
Why her? Why now?
He felt a tap on his knee, turned and found Cara sitting right beside him, so close he could smell her perfume, a faint scent of vanilla tinged with rose.
“I want to show you something. May I?”
Before he could respond, she took the empty beer bottle and placed it in a cup holder.
She grabbed his right hand, squeezed it gently. The simple gesture startled him into immediate attention.
“There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet.”
He tried to break contact with her before she noticed that his palms were beginning to sweat, but she held firm.
“I know,” he said, distracted because he really liked the feel of her hand on his. “Even I watched Sesame Street. What’s your point?”
At that moment, she tightened her grasp and leaned in close to him, as if she was about to reveal a dark secret.
“Be patient, I’m getting to it.”
Drawing back, she turned his hand to reveal his palm. He looked down, relieved to see it didn’t look as moist as it felt.
“To start to learn how to read, all you have to remember is that there are five vowels.” Slowly she traced each vowel on his palm with her fingertips.
“A-E-I-O-U.”
He hitched in a breath as each letter became an invisible imprint, fingernail upon flesh, leaving a trail of indescribable sensations radiating from his palm to his fingertips.
“The rest of the letters are called consonants.” She circled her finger in the dip of his palm. “Consonants and vowels work together to form words.”
Alex held his breath as she tugged each fingertip down to his palm until his hand was enclosed inside both of hers, warm and gentle.
“The ability to sound each one out individually, then as a whole, is the basis for learning how to read.”
Their eyes met and he thought he saw a flicker of desire in hers. But when she dropped his hand right away, he dismissed the notion. Cara had a lust for letters, not him.
“That’s it?” his voice doubtful.
“Yes, that’s it!”
He pressed a button on the console in front of him and spoke to his driver. “Hey, Frank! Turn this beast around. It’s back to Harlem, my man, we’re done back here.”
Cara giggled. “No! That’s not what I meant. Of course there’s a lot more to it than that. But at its roots, language is made up of consonants and vowels, kind of like the basic building blocks of music are notes and rhythm.”
Leaning forward, he pressed the button again. “False alarm, keep going.”
He settled back in the seat, eyed her skeptically. “How do you know so much about music? Are you a musician?”
“No.” A shy smile crept across her lips. “Well, maybe. But, I’m just an amateur.”
He formed a square with his fingers and looked through them like a camera, appraising her. “Hmm…let me guess. You’re a singer.”
When she blushed and nodded, he swore. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
He reached for the intercom, but Cara swatted his hand away.
“Do you have a problem with singers?”
He crossed his arms. “Yeah. Too much drama.”
She drew an imaginary halo around her head and batted her lashes like a movie star. “Me? Drama?”
Enchanted, his lips curved. It seemed there might be a playful little devil ready to bust out of all that innocence.
“So you can smile,” she teased. “Was that so bad?”
His smile faded, although it struck him funny how a word or two from Cara could turn his mood from happy to sad and everything in between. He moved away and watched the river flow, as wide and vast as the emptiness in his heart.
Sure he had a great career, plenty of money and had dated some of the most desirable women in the world.
But at what cost?
So far, nothing he’d achieved had erased the guilt he lived with every day. Deep down, he feared learning to read would only make it worse.
* * *
An hour later, Cara woke with a start to discover she’d fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. She sat up, her face burning with embarrassment. The driver swerved to avoid a pothole and she yelped in surprise when she crashed back into Alex’s side.
“I