(c) Lemonade
I am Revolution :: Words :: Stories :: Original Fiction
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(c) Lemonade
by the way Sun 14 Dec 2008, 8:22 pm
"Oh, sweet!" The joy lit up his dull brown eyes. "Honey, you know how much I love lemonade."
She's in the room now, upon hearing him arrive from work. She had just added another ice cube to his glass.
She tried not to exhale.
"Of course. How can I forget?" She said, sweet as french fries sprinkled with sugar instead of salt. "You replaced wine with that on the menu at our reception."
He flashed a grin at her, and the 'her' yesterday might have winced at that. From the blows that would inadvertently follow that typically sarcastic smile.
He set his suitcase down, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie. Her gaze followed his back as he walked towards the table.
"Oh, man, still cold as hell. Do I love you, baby."
She practically cooed. "And I love you too." Because she did, despite becoming acquainted with his fists every night, when booze replaced the lemonade in his drink, despite him acting like nothing was wrong in the morning with his goodbye-off-to-work cheek kisses, despite the particularly grotesque bruises blotching her arms so that she couldn't wear her favorite sun dress anymore. All of that, because she loved him.
He finished it all in one gulp and three swallows. With a back-of-hand wiping his mouth after.
She heard the remainders of the ice rattle in the glass as he set it back down on the table.
"Ahh, that was a good one. Thanks a lot, babe." He ran his fingers across his sweaty hair and didn't even look back at her.
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
Two minutes later, he choked and wheezed in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. She watched as his hands racked across his body, searching for the part that hurt the most. She knew he wouldn't find it, because the pain would have been everywhere.
Thirty seconds later he was doubled up on the floor, and after thirty heartbeats the next one just wouldn't come anymore.
She looked at him, his face all scrunched up and uncomfortable. She blinked.
She picked up the glass and wiped up the moisture it left on the table with a nearby rag.
And she breathed again.
She's in the room now, upon hearing him arrive from work. She had just added another ice cube to his glass.
She tried not to exhale.
"Of course. How can I forget?" She said, sweet as french fries sprinkled with sugar instead of salt. "You replaced wine with that on the menu at our reception."
He flashed a grin at her, and the 'her' yesterday might have winced at that. From the blows that would inadvertently follow that typically sarcastic smile.
He set his suitcase down, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie. Her gaze followed his back as he walked towards the table.
"Oh, man, still cold as hell. Do I love you, baby."
She practically cooed. "And I love you too." Because she did, despite becoming acquainted with his fists every night, when booze replaced the lemonade in his drink, despite him acting like nothing was wrong in the morning with his goodbye-off-to-work cheek kisses, despite the particularly grotesque bruises blotching her arms so that she couldn't wear her favorite sun dress anymore. All of that, because she loved him.
He finished it all in one gulp and three swallows. With a back-of-hand wiping his mouth after.
She heard the remainders of the ice rattle in the glass as he set it back down on the table.
"Ahh, that was a good one. Thanks a lot, babe." He ran his fingers across his sweaty hair and didn't even look back at her.
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
Two minutes later, he choked and wheezed in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. She watched as his hands racked across his body, searching for the part that hurt the most. She knew he wouldn't find it, because the pain would have been everywhere.
Thirty seconds later he was doubled up on the floor, and after thirty heartbeats the next one just wouldn't come anymore.
She looked at him, his face all scrunched up and uncomfortable. She blinked.
She picked up the glass and wiped up the moisture it left on the table with a nearby rag.
And she breathed again.
Last edited by Smashed Pumpkin on Tue 30 Dec 2008, 7:22 pm; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : checked: SP)
the way- Red Scare
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Number of posts : 530
Age : 32 -
I am Revolution :: Words :: Stories :: Original Fiction
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