|Molly & Jeff (standard:romance, 2622 words)|
|Author: BENTLINK||Added: Jul 08 2005||Views/Reads: 1964/1254||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Molly leaves Jeff a message on the slipcovers.|
MOLLY AND JEFF Jeff was very late even for a payday. Shortly after Molly told herself, "If he isn't here by eight o'clock I'll start calling bars and hospitals", a single head lamp made its lone, lonesome way up the long gravel drive from the state highway towards their house. As the one light drew nearer and was reflected from the old farmhouses white clapboards she saw the crumpled fender and passenger door of what this morning had been Jeff's almost perfect Ford pickup truck. Jeff dismounted from the driver's side of the damaged pickup and as he approached the steps started the slurred swearing that was her tip-off he had too much to drink. "God dammed drunk could have killed me, ran my ass right off the road and into the Potter's mail boxes. Now I got to go down there tomorrow and put up three new boxes. God dammed drunk. And just look at my truck. Never could understand why the Potters need three boxes anyway its just the old man and the two boys" He said in way of a greeting. She noted he as usual offered up no excuse or reason for being more than four hours late coming home from work. Molly knew old man Potter insisted on three mailboxes because of his sons varied lifestyle but wisely held her tongue. No need to give Jeff any more targets to blame for the pickups damaged fender and door. Hard won experience told her that asking why he was so late or explaining the need for the Potters, three mailboxes would only provide him with more fuel for his anger. The anger he seemed to need to keep from feeling any guilt about being so late coming home. No need to take any chances with Jeff and his anger when he had been drinking! As he moved from the shadows cast by the porch post and fully into the light she could see he was flushed and sweating and as he drew near she could smell the cheap bourbon. "Good choice on the mailboxes Molly" she thought and turned to reenter the house. "Not so fast little lady." Molly froze. "How bout a little kiss for your old man." She let out the breath she had been holding, turned placed a feathery kiss on his cheek then slowly drew away. He seemed not to notice her tension or distancing movement for his attention was now directed toward the truck as if in the glow from the porch light he was seeing the true extent of the damage for the first time. "Dammed drunk could have killed me". Jeff had come home late and drinking almost every payday for more than a year. This payday was different not only because of the damage to the truck but this payday was also their fifth wedding anniversary. Not that she had held out any great hope Jeff would remember their anniversary, but because today was special she had earlier fixed meatloaf and scalloped potatoes for dinner and, put a bottle of red wine in the fridge. Jeff always said he loved her meatloaf and red wine sometimes put the two of them in a romantic mood. She had even taken the time to search out a vase for the flowers she hoped he might bring as he had sometimes done when they were first married. As she cooked then showered and put on makeup she daydreamed about how Jeff would come home on time, sober, flowers in hand and be happy to see her. "So much for dreams Molly," she declared under her breath as she stepped from the porch into the farmhouses' large old-fashioned living room. Earlier in the day after finishing her shower she stood in front of the full-length door mirror in the bath and let her robe fall into soft folds around her ankles. The mirror was somewhat fogged from the moist air so at first the small satin stretch marks on her stomach and breast did not show. She had shed all the weight gained during her pregnancy and now weighed four pounds less than when she and Jeff married. She slowly turned to view herself from the side and then twisted her head to view her back and buttocks. Men were nuts, she looked great; much prettier than those women who hung around that hole in the wall joint "Bar None" where Jeff did his payday drinking. She once ask Jeff about bring some of his friends and a bottle home on payday but got no reply other than "I'll think about it". Her satin stretch marks were part of the price she had paid for Jeff Jr. the true love of her life. He was a smart baby, had started talking early and was going to walk any day. Jeff Jr. watched big-eyed with out making a sound every time she and Jeff argued about money and the late hours he was keeping with his friends. Earlier in the day she had packed Jeff Jr., his favorite stuffed toy, and three jars of baby food off to her mother's home a couple of miles up the highway, so she and Jeff could have their fifth wedding anniversary all to themselves. Not that it seemed to matter now that Jeff was drunk and would soon be passed out on the sofa or worse in their bed in his greasy work clothes atop the hand stitched patch Click here to read the rest of this story (149 more lines)
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