Free Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale by Chuck Kinder Page B

mumbled
through his fingers, which were cupped around his festering mouth
and chin again.
     
    By the way, Alice Ann, Judy
said, refilling her glass with the cheap-ass bubbly, what did your
hubby give you for an anniversary present, anyhow?
     
    A mercy fuck, Alice Ann
said, and threw back her own glass of bubbly. —But since Ralph was
out of his romantic rubbers, he had to practice withdrawal after
about, oh, six or seven seconds.
     
    Let’s all drink a romantic
toast to the honorable practice of withdrawal, Jim suggested, and
lifted his refilled glass.
     
    Okay, buster, Judy had
hissed, and if looks could kill...
     
    A mercy fuck, Alice Ann?
Ralph said. —Are you trying to be funny? Are you? he said, and
picked up the little candle-lantern from the middle of the table
and held it in front of Alice Ann. He waved it slowly back and
forth before her face. —It’s so dark in this wretched cave I can’t
even see the expression on your face, Alice Ann. Alice
Ann?
     
    2
    Spanakopita, troops, Alice
Ann said as she exuberantly fed her face. —God, thin yummy layers
of pastry filled with spinach and feta cheese baked to a golden
brown. A perfect description of manna. Forgive me, please. It’s not
my fault. Greek food always does this to me. It drives me crazy
hungry, and I know this will sound crazy, but it makes me horny as
hell.
    Feta cheese? Judy said. —You
mean that stuff is in here? Ugh. I didn’t know that. Feta cheese,
ugh. Feta cheese always makes me think of toe jam.
     
    I agree with you
wholeheartedly on that matter, Ralph said to Judy. —That
spana-whatever-you-call-it is just so much smelly crud in my book.
Let my wife fill herself to the brim with toe jam. Far be it from
me to stop my wife from eating anything she has her heart set on
eating.
     
    Later, after the waitress
had cleared the table and everybody had decided against dessert,
but Alice Ann had ordered a final round of drinks, Alice Ann smiled
at Ralph and announced that what she had her heart set on doing was
footing the bill for this whole night of fucking revelry. Ralph was
flabbergasted. Ralph dropped his jaw and fork. Jim raised a toast
to Alice Ann’s amazing generosity of spirit and good taste and the
lovely way she looked that evening. Ralph spluttered and gasped
that if they even pulled their way-beyond-their-credit-limit bandit
plastic out in public, they could well find themselves thrown under
a jail- house. No fooling, Ralph had lamented, this is no joke. At
the very least, Ralph lamented, as sincere as Jim had ever seen
him, that worthless, pathetic piece of plastic could well be
returned to them on a tray cut into quarters, which would not be
the first time for that singular humiliation. Like that shameful,
wretched time in Iowa City.
     
    God, what a riot! Alice Ann
had laughed.
     
    No, don’t even talk about
it, Ralph said. —I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Jesus. Talk
about stupid. That’s my middle name, all right. Stupid. Just call
me Mister Stupid. That’s one sleeping, flea-bitten dog we should
just let lie.
     
    Ralph was a student at Iowa
then, Alice Ann said. —And he was in John Cheever’s writing class.
Ralph just adored John Cheever. We had noticed that John seemed
distracted and sort of lonely at a faculty cocktail party one
Friday afternoon. You know, sort of quiet and sad and off to
himself, lonely, yes, if you can believe a famous man like that
being lonely. So we just said to ourselves, Why not take John
Cheever out on the town? Buy John Cheever a big dinner and show him
a high old time. Shoot the works in the John Cheever department was
our motto that night.
     
    Who is this John Cheever
guy, anyhow? Judy asked.
     
    He’s a pretty famous writer,
hon, Alice Ann said. —So anyway, we took John to the best
restaurant in town. Or was it to that swanky place at the edge of
town? Whatever. So we ordered champagne, and not this cheap stuff
Ralph insisted upon tonight. I did the ordering that night, so