Sonny could have grabbed the sun with his own two hands and pulled it ten million miles closer to Earth, but that would not have warmed up Natalie.
“You know how much I hate the cold, and you know how fragile I am. The last time I was here, you promised me that you would always turn on the heat before you picked me up, so that your apartment would be nice and warm by the time we walked into it.”
She went on to tell him that this was just another example of how inconsiderate he was. He tried to tell her that he had simply forgotten. “You know how bad my memory is,” he said. But she pointed out that his memory seemed to work very well whenever it didn’t involve her. When it came to remembering what others—including total strangers—liked or disliked, Sonny had a great memory. Maybe his memory failed only when it came to Natalie’s needs because he could care less about Natalie and her feelings.
Oh no, here we go again, Sonny thought. But Natalie was through. “Take me home,” she demanded. But what about his haircut, he asked. “Who cares about your stupid haircut? Your hair will be around your ankles before I touch you or your hair clippers again!”
