Marjorie put the dishtowel on the rack with a purpose and spun around to face me and the emotional mess I’d created. Another minute crawled by as she honored me with her “I can’t hold it down anymore” stare. I knew I deserved her wrath. I knew I did. But my innate need to always be right kicked into gear before the lid blew off.
“You must see that it’s the only way for us to go, don’t you?”
“Oh, come on! Let’s clean up this kitchen and get dressed. We’ll go out on the town to think about it.”
Mouth drops open. She’s about to speak….
“No, no. Don’t say anything until you’ve had a shower and a change of clothes. Then we can talk.”
Marjorie was always a tough sell. But I was trying my darndest to sway her tempermental side into believing I was right. I’m thinking I’ve nearly done it, when…
Off the cutting board she grabs a handful of lime wedges. Wedges that we’d planned to pop into our beer bottles like the kids down at Teddy’s bar. Wham! She throws one at me, eye glinting with evil and her mouth set with determination.
Wham! Wham! One in the head. One in the chest. Lime wedges are sinister projectiles.
Ducking down behind the counter, I palm the wedge that clocked me in the temple and steady myself for the next round.
Silence. What was going on up there? I sneak a peek upward and just begin to push off my knees to catch a glimpse over the counter when I feel something wet and sticky coming at me from the right.
There she was, lying on the floor, round the edge of the counter, shooting lime squirts at me with both hands!
I roll to my left, prime myself for a return attack, and…
“Aw, come on, Marjorie! Let’s stop this nonsense and clean this place up! What do you say? Huh?”
More silence. More than I can stand, actually. This was killing me. Why doesn’t she SAY something? Okay, I’ve decided that I’ve had enough. I grab the dishtowel and stand up. Waving it in the air, begging for a truce.
“Uh, Marj…” I begin my plea.
And there she is, smiling at me with a lime wedge in her teeth!