He told me that night that he loved me and that he couldn’t imagine being without me. All I could stare at was the half empty wine glass in front off me and slowly blink. I stared through the glass at the picture created backwards from the liquid. It was distorted and round.
Vern, hey, are you listening? I am sure that at that moment my face became twisted. It was in response to him referring to me as Vern. He knew that I hated that. My mother’s voice always popped into my head. It was echoing in my head when it came to the next part. I felt as if half of the dinner would come up. The chocolate cake had been too rich, and the wine put me in a haze*. It was in a flash of a magic trick and some kind of foil flame (look that up). His slight of hand produced a box from nowhere. By this time I was choking on something. It was hallucinogenic. The room had become what I pictured in the glass and the sound was turned down and then flooded with water.
I want you to know…
And then there it was. He had revealed the contents of which I pretended to look at with close scrutiny. It was a beautiful setting. He must have spent some money that I didn’t know he had. Later I was to find out that it was his dead mothers’. It didn’t take long for his frustration to grow.
I sat there silent and I wasn’t even sure if I could have closed my mouth.
Excuse me. I have to go to the ladies room. I stumbled from my chair as best as I could. The alcohol was more then I could handle right now. That’s what I had to keep telling myself anyway. I felt like I was having an allergic reaction. I half expected to see hives on my inner thighs when I let myself into the bathroom.
