I remember they weren't married the last time I saw her and now that she is, well I guess I don't have to worry about her setting her sights on me any more.John takes me down stairs and shows me a nice room with it's own bathroom. Big king bed and all the fresh linens. I drop my bag and John says "let's get a beer." We go upstairs and sit in the kitchen. We talk about the fun stuff and gloss over the bad. "Remember Kennedy? That crazy tattoo he got on his chest! Boy was out there." Becky asks "He sounds really different. Where is he now? maybe we could have him over." Silence. I finally say "Arlington National Cemetery." I look at John and say "Here's to Kennedy!" We clink bottles. John says this isn't the way and jumps up. He goes to a cabinet and gets a bottle of Jamison's and three shot glasses. We pour and retoast "to Kennedy." John pours another round and downs his right away. I let mine sit."Still can't handle your whiskey soldier?" John asks me. "It makes me throw up and I. Everything was confirmed when my husband came home and did a double take even mentioning how much bigger my tits seemed. I was so angry at him I withheld sex. I realized I couldn’t believe I was able to do that to him. I couldn’t believe I had taken so much of the power in the relationship. Under different circumstances I would have jumped for joy. But tonight I laid awake and fretted. I wished so much I had my phone so I could search the internet for answers. On the last morning of my marriage I was cooking my husbands his last batch of eggs and my stomach churned. It had never happened before but the smell of the eggs repulsed me. I sprinted to the bathroom and hugged the toilet as I puked. Food poisoning, I tried to reassure myself. Instead, the thought returned as a full on panic attack set in. I laid on the bathroom floor, my heart racing, cold sweat beading on my forehead. No, I couldn’t be a mother, not now, not so young. I threw the eggs out, gave my man a pop tart and.
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