Lily - part 2 (Horrible Marriages Collection)
Lily lay in bed and cursed herself for the habit of wearing socks to sleep. It worked in the winter, but in July the kitchen sent up hot drafts of midnight air through the floorboards. It was a long-reach or a pretzel-twist; she went for the twist and sent the socks into the air with enough verve to never have to see them again.
“Cmon Earl!”
Not a sound.
“I can hear you down there, Earl! Hell, I can smell you down there, Earl!”
She loved the smell of him. She'd told him when they'd met, and reminded him frequently. He reminded her that she also loved the smell of buffalo manure. And turpentine. And car exhaust..,
“Earl, your not making things better here! Your making them worse! You know what I'm like when I don't get sleep!”
Lily knew Earl. She’d seen the results of his efforts in just about every arena. It was all bleak, except for his lovemaking. He excelled in that area, or maybe he didn't - she'd had nothing to compare it to - but she liked to believe he did. She pushed her pillow against some of the possible outcomes of her cajoling, the threats, the looks, and began to regret the sudden lapse in what had been endless patience with her man.
“Put down the shotgun and come on up here before you hurt yourself!”
Nothing on top of exhausted nothing. It would end badly. She thought it but was too drunk and tired and worn out to do much more than roll over into the heat.
End of part 2
“Cmon Earl!”
Not a sound.
“I can hear you down there, Earl! Hell, I can smell you down there, Earl!”
She loved the smell of him. She'd told him when they'd met, and reminded him frequently. He reminded her that she also loved the smell of buffalo manure. And turpentine. And car exhaust..,
“Earl, your not making things better here! Your making them worse! You know what I'm like when I don't get sleep!”
Lily knew Earl. She’d seen the results of his efforts in just about every arena. It was all bleak, except for his lovemaking. He excelled in that area, or maybe he didn't - she'd had nothing to compare it to - but she liked to believe he did. She pushed her pillow against some of the possible outcomes of her cajoling, the threats, the looks, and began to regret the sudden lapse in what had been endless patience with her man.
“Put down the shotgun and come on up here before you hurt yourself!”
Nothing on top of exhausted nothing. It would end badly. She thought it but was too drunk and tired and worn out to do much more than roll over into the heat.
End of part 2
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