Who still says that? Jessica can’t believe he just said that. Right now? Jess hasn’t watched TV in ages; she overhears everyone going on about the current rage of butlers, British wit and fantasy worlds that straddle past and future. Jess wishes for a way to straddle present and future, to know this moment will bridge to the future she imagined. Because right now, she is stuck, like a whale on a beach, exposed. What is she supposed to do now? She’s committed ’til death’ and not even twenty-four hours in he is stumbling over the threshold, buckling under the heft of her.
The size 14 dress she’d found for the wedding was slimming and stunning and everyone had gone on about it. Jessica felt a bruise forming under the vice of his left hand, gripping onto her thigh to prevent her slipping further out of her arms. “Start as you mean to go on” her mother used to say. This was a terrible omen. Jerry was more than strong enough to carry her, but the lager and whisky were stronger. He stumbles forward into the cottage, allowing his knees to buckle. They land in a tangle of silk and wool on the scattered petals her cousins spent the morning arranging. A bed of roses, she thinks, joining in with his wheezing laughter.
8 min on 4.19.13, in a driveway on Alberta Ave.; inspired by a comment from the CAA (AAA) driver fixing my flat tire.
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