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Sharon was off in the Caribbean somewhere with her quilting group, and I'd exhausted the casseroles in the freezer with a week and a half still to go, so I was hanging out at Buffalo Wild Wings with Frank, watching the NBA finals. LeBron James was on his third foul, and I was on my third margarita. Frank had been saying something about my being in a slump with Sharon away, but I really wasn't paying much attention.
When the Cavs lost the game and my twenty-dollar bet was officially toast, I started to order a fourth margarita but Frank grabbed my wrist. "You've hit your limit, buddy," he said sadly. He picked up the tab and said "You're coming home with me. You can't drive yourself anyway." I grumbled, but I really didn't have the energy to argue the point.
So we wound up at Frank and Kim's house. Kim is this Japanese girl who Frank met and married while he was in the Navy - they make quite the contrasting couple since he's big and hairy and she's petite and delicate. She glared at Frank when he brought me in, and I flopped on the couch while the two of them went into the kitchen. They started arguing about something, but their voices were low and I couldn't make out the details. I'd have left, but Frank had my keys.
Eventually they came back to the living room; Frank went into the back of the house while Kim sat down next to me, taking my hand and holding it in her lap. Her eyes were very serious as she told me, "Frank say you really don't know what to do without your wife around. We take care of you tonight - but you have to not drink so much." Her accent was really cute, and I nodded politely. "Thank you Kim, I can crash on your couch, no problem." She shook her head. "No couch. Guests get a proper bedding so you don't have bad hangover in the morning. Frank will fix everything."
If I've learned anything from twenty years with Sharon, it's that you don't argue with a woman whose mind is made up. Besides, the last margarita was hitting me pretty hard so when she stood and tugged my hand, I got up just a little wobbly and followed her meekly into the back of the house.
I figured Frank was cleaning up the guest room, but what Kim brought me to was obviously the master bedroom. The sheets were turned down, and there was a set of silk pajamas on the foot of the bed that looked roughly my size. Kim spoke up before I could protest. "Honored guest gets best bed - bathroom is in there, brush your teeth and clean the bar smell off you first. You have good night." Then she left, closing the bedroom door behind her.
I yawned, and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I cleaned myself up and even brushed my teeth, then put on the pajamas - they felt odd against my skin, but I was used to my J.C. Penneys specials. I'd thank them in the morning, but right now the pillows were calling out for my head.
