“I told him I’d kill him”
“Phil, you’re not going to do that, and it’s not him. Her name is Hazel.” Pauline tried to calm her brother down, but he’d worked up a magnificent head of steam.
“He’s what?”
“A girl.”
“I can’t hit a girl.” Phil actually looked disconsolate: it seemed that he’d have to redirect his violence in a different direction to usual. That might do him some good, she thought. For now, though, he was prowling her kitchen, the very epitome of caged tiger, endangering her thesis every time he gestured.
“No. You can’t.”
“You’re not seeing her again.”
“Already have.”
Crack! Paper exploded across the room.
“OK. You can put my PhD back together before I make your lunch.”
He glared defiantly at her, their ages suddenly reversed, but he knew he’d crossed the line this time.
*
“You didn’t know she was a girl at the ceilidh?” His sandwich-muffled voice had lost some anger and gained a little curiosity.
“No, but… what the hell? She makes me laugh. That’s got to be worth a second date.”