9.18am
With my elbows propped on the dining table, I gripped my coffee and deeply inhaled the rich aroma to psych myself up. The morning had begun no differently to any other old Sunday, but I was damned if I was gonna let it end the same ho-hum way - I’d shoot the caffeine straight into my veins if it’d give me a boost up.
I glanced at Mac across the table. Oblivious. Surprise, surprise.
Well, let the tally begin. His little book of lies was about to score some points.
“If I asked you to, would you lie to me?”
He peered at me over the top of his newspaper, his black frames perched low on his nose, like an uppity professor’s. “Why would I do that?”
Deflection. That deserves half a point.
Well, let the tally begin. His little book of lies was about to score some points.
“If I asked you to, would you lie to me?”
He peered at me over the top of his newspaper, his black frames perched low on his nose, like an uppity professor’s. “Why would I do that?”
Deflection. That deserves half a point.
I stirred in a sugar cube, pretending to think. How many would he score today? Then said, “Because I asked you.”
He raised an eyebrow at me - smug as always. “Wouldn’t it defeat the purpose of lying if you knew I was?”
“That’s not the point.” I sipped the coffee slowly, to resist the urge to throw it in his face. What would he do if I did? Would he strike out with his fists again, or would he let the rage simmer until he was good and ready to erupt? The bruise on my hip was just fading to a murky shade of mustard this weekend.
He sighed now, clearly thinking this was one of my just because arguments. “What’s the point, then?”
“Doing something for me, because I asked.” I poured him a cup. “Coffee?”
“No, just tea for me this morning.”
I smiled. She prefers tea, doesn’t she? “Your tastes have changed, hey?”
“Stomach isn’t feeling so great.”
“Hmm.” Good. “So, you would lie, if I asked?”
“You know how I feel about lying.” He gave his newspaper a flick and continued reading.
Evasion. Let’s give this one full point.
“Well,” I stood and took my mug to the sink. “I’m heading to the store. Busy day.”
“With what? It’s Sunday.”
“The turf we bought last week. Gotta lay that down, then plant some roses. Wouldn’t it be nice, when we come back from our trip, to see some buds?”
He grunted. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be here with the upset stomach.”
Sure you will. I headed to the bedroom to change.
“Gypsy.”
I turned, but he kept reading.
“Don’t forget my tea before you go.”
