Saturday, November 26, 2016

Chapter 43: Punch lines

How tempting to celebrate Thanksgiving with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Celebrate. Meredith gave an unladylike snort of contempt each time the word crossed her mind. What was there to celebrate? 

And there she was, staring at her kitchen walls and wondering what the fuck had happened to her fairy tale life.

"Don't go out tonight, Jamie, let's just stay in."
"Mer, love, I'll be right back. I just need to drop these papers off for tomorrow. You'll have me all to yourself this week, I promise. Once I get home, I'm turning my cell phone off until next Monday."
"Okay," but she was disappointed. His kiss, however, made up for it.
"Once I get back, little one, you'd better be ready. I'm going to make love to you until you beg me to stop."
"I could never do that," she laughed. "You'll be begging me to let you stop."
"We'll have to make it a point to find out then."
The joke, of course, was that they'd yet to make love.

The punchline was exactly that. Was it really today? Of all the years for that date and Thanksgiving to coincide. Fuck. Every time she remembered it she felt as if someone punched her. Punchline. Punch me, pinch me, tell me it's just a line.

We're sorry, ma'am. It looks like he tried to stop.

Black tire skids, two black lines. Punch lines.