Why did I marry her? I watched as the red liquid gushed from the goblet in a blasting torrent down her throat. A few drops, fleeing the glass in utter despair, took flight ultimately to land on the bodice of her white lace gown. Such abomination! I bought her the frock especially for this special dinner at Les Ambassadeurs, the annual awards dinner for my men's club. I wanted my new wife to look respectable. Ha!
I also bought her that beautiful hat. Now it rested askew on her head, knocked about when she threw her arms around yelling at me moments ago.
"Why can't we go to the cabaret?" she'd screamed. "I'm bored"
I grabbed her hand and rubbed it in soft soothing motions. Why I would treat her so humanely is beyond me. She deserved to be smacked about like the tart that she was. In recent months I tried everything within my means to refine her, and this boisterous outrage was the result.
"James, I see you have arrived with your...ahem, lovely wife." It was Harold, an associate from my job at the bank, hovering over our table like an ominous monster.
"Ah, good evening, James. Yes, we have arrived." I smiled faintly and caste a doubtful glance at my wife who had poured herself another glass, emptying the bottle of Cabernet.
Harold leaned close to whisper to me. "James, don't you think you should take her home before she embarrasses you?"
His remark slapped me in the face. Indeed, my cheeks burned red.
A tiny sob issuing across the table broke my stunned silence. I glanced over and saw the hurt in my wife's eyes. She'd heard him, and now, even in her drunken stupor, felt ashamed. Her pain struck my heart. Big brown eyes pleaded with me to defend her, the eyes I'd fallen in love with months ago. My heart danced in my chest and my soul reverberated with the youthful exuberance she so well inspired. I pushed Harold away.
"Certainly not," I replied. "In fact, I believe we'll have another bottle of wine."
We had great fun that evening, she and I. But we were never invited to another formal function. But that's all right, really. We're much too busy dancing nightly at the cabaret.
©2008 JO Janoski