Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84 Page 85 Page 86 Page 87 Page 88 Page 89 Page 90 Page 91 Page 92 Page 93 Page 94 Page 95 Page 96 Page 97 Page 98 Page 99 Page 100w i n t e r g u i d e 2 0 1 7 9 3 Fiction alfaimage Why I Hate the Promenade I was 22 when my girlfriend started notic- ing my hearing problem. She and I had been dating since I was 17, in high school in Orono. She was in col- lege. We broke up over Christmas break, but then we got back together. And then, right before I started school at NYU, she broke up with me for another guy, and that was the end. Until–two years later, she moved to New York. And we started dating again. And when that happened, it was kind of wonder- ful. It was just like we imagined it back at Orono High–two kids from Maine, making it together in the big city. Then she started noticing that this prob- lem with my hearing was getting more and more pronounced. So I didn’t tell anybody, but I went to a specialist. I was ready for bad news. The doctor did a number of tests, and then he sat me down and asked me how I knew I had a hearing problem. And I said my girlfriend told me I’m not hearing her very well. Sometimes she has to repeat what she says three or four times before I hear it. Even then sometimes I’m just pretending to understand. And he asked me if I had this experience with other people, and I didn’t answer. And then he told me my hearing was fine. It was diagnostic confirmation of some- thing I already knew, really. So one night I met her after work, and I told her I still thought she was a wonderful person and I cared for her, and maybe I was making a terrible mistake but…this was it. And she asked me if I hated her, and I said of course I didn’t. And she asked me if I never wanted to see her again, and I said that wasn’t it at all. And then she said, “What about the dance lessons?” And I said, “What dance lessons?” “I told you all about it,” she said, which was probably true. It turns out just a few days before I made my decision, she’d done something we’d al- ways talked about. She signed us up for a couples ballroom dancing class. It was a gift to me. To us. But now everything was differ- ent and she wiped her eyes and she nodded seriously and said she understood and she didn’t know what was she going to do about these damn dance lessons, but it would be okay, and I said, hang on. They’re just dance lessons. I’ve always wanted to learn. We both have. Let’s do it. But y’know who takes couples ballroom dance lessons? People who are about to get married. We were the opposite of that. Lesson one was like dental surgery. But by Doug Bost