Part 2 of 4. All parts written.
Heroine Addiction
Part 2
Barry
I don't remember how I got there, but I was filling my vehicle with gas because I'd driven so long it was almost out. I looked up my location. I was now an hour away from my wife's sister's house, which meant I was two hours away from my wife. And I don't think I got there the most direct way either. I decided to pay sis-in-law a visit.
Knocking on her door with donuts and coffee at 6 am on a Sunday morning was going to add an unusual chapter to the family scrapbook.
Betty opened the door tired, confused, and a little angry. Perplexity replaced them all as she saw it was me.
"Barry!?" What the...? Oh, just thank God you're alright," her demeanor changed as she gathered her thoughts. She stopped to look at me again, "You are alright, aren't you?"
I hesitated. I know it was a minute before I could control my face. Incredible sadness seemed to seize me before I could reign my emotions in. She looked at me with pity, which allowed my anger to resurface and take over. Watching my response, just made Betty's expression grow stronger in reaction.
"Come on in. Tom will be down soon," Betty took my hand and led me to a chair in the kitchen taking the coffee and donuts away from me as she started to gather the items we needed to partake. That was confusing as everything we needed was in the bag, I'm not sure why she placed out her own things. I guess women just want what they want. I suddenly felt sympathetic fear for the unused condiments and paper cups in the bag she planned to discard. It seemed they and I shared a common fate. I reached out and gathered them back to me. They were now my soul mates.
I finally responded to Betty stating her husband, Tom, would soon be down, "Good, I think it'd be best if you were both here at the same time." I must have sounded like the State Trooper at the front door telling the family members of the traffic accident that had taken the life of their loved one. Betty went stiff and chewed on her lip.
She surveyed the two bags I now clutched, "You want some donuts and coffee, Barry?" Betty asked quizzically.
"No. I got into town around three hours ago. I've been camped out at a waffle house. I'm stuffed. I just kept ordering so I could keep my table. I knew I was going to get you up early so I brought a peace offering." Pointing out my offerings I bobbed my forehead at the donuts, then sympathetically towards the bundles in my protecting arms, drawing a confused look from my sister-in-law.
"Barry what is it?" She asked, concern written across her face.
"Well, this may be the last time I barge into your home at 6 am on a Sunday with coffee and donuts." I wasn't sure that sounded as negative as I intended.
"I hope so," Tom's happy voice sounded from the doorway as he walked into the kitchen. He took one look at me and his jovial air evaporated.
Betty saw my resolution sag and jumped in to prop me up, "Oh, damn it, Berry, don't think like that! Tom's kidding! You're welcome to barge in on us every Sunday morning the rest of our lives," my wife's sister quickly added. Tom was alarmed by the offer but knew to keep silent.
He headed over to the disposable paper condiments I brought. He smiled and took the bags from my clenched fists, he seemed to treat them gently. I felt I had met a kindred soul. God bless him, Tom used them to make himself a cup of coffee.
"Why are you using those? We have nice cups and mugs." Inquired Betty knowing she'd stumbled onto one of those rare glimpses into how the other gender actually thinks.
"And now we don't have to wash them." Tom replied as jovially as a man could, pre coffee at six AM on a Sunday morning.
"You would really use those over our mugs?" Betty asked petulantly knowing Tom was a mug man: another gender difference. Then she added, "I was going to throw them away."
"Throw them away? Before you use them? What's the point in that?" Tom asked more alarmed by this news than the offer to have me over every Sunday and six AM.
Betty seemed to come up a little short on that one.
"Tom, someone else manufacturing trash doesn't make it my moral imperative to use it."
"No, but to litter spuriously is, well, moral turpitude, n'est pas?"
I thought that was an outstanding rebuttal, especially for a Sunday morning, coffee or not.
Betty was still thinking it through. She'd boxed herself in, what was she going to do, argue the positive points of non-spurious littering? Tom was happy, he seemed to have won a debate for a change.
"Don't throw them away, honey, they're perfectly good." Tom saw Betty was uneasy about the entire subject now. He tried to back pedal, "I'll take them to my office. We'll use them there if you don't want them." I was buoyed! I was simpatico with the poor unloved, unwanted paper cups and condiments. Why should they be deemed evil merely for the crime of being unloved? Tom had redeemed me. My beautiful wife might not love me anymore, but I could still do good for someone.
Tom looked at his wife's growing frown. In her mind she could see Tom recounting the discussion to all his co-workers and telling them how he won this argument with his wife and saved the planet from her selfish slothfulness. Maybe the other women there would be swayed. Dear Lord, by this time next year everyone could be using paper cups! Her face had become sour.
Tom couldn't read her mind, but he could sure read her expression. "You're right, Betty. I'll ditch them, they'll just clutter things up and get in the way." He threw the bag across the room into the trash bin pretending to be a sportscaster, "He sinks two at the buzzer to win the game!"
He looked at me, "Barry?"