An interesting juxtaposition

It’s like, you know, my name’s Jennifer and I live with my hubby Marlon in Pasadena. Totally retro neighborhood, don’t you love it? We got ourselves a nifty wifty mid-century pad goin’ on here, like we got the real family thing goin’ on. And boy, aren’t we happy – or weren’t we, ‘til that maggot looked up at the stars one night at the beach when I was visiting Mama and dropped his eyes down on Tiffany. Like they totally got it on, don’t you know? Totally freaked me out, when I read his e-mails that one afternoon he was showering after we got it on …

“Jennifer, darling,” Marlon said from the kitchen. “Time to go to your parents. How long will you be?”

Wish he’d be like quiet now, you know what I mean? I’m writing you this letter, and don’t plan on getting ready for dinner until I’ve told you my story.

“Marlon, honey,” I said, my voice as silky as a spider’s web, “I’ll be just a few minutes longer. You play the piano, honey. I totally get off on that Mozart you were playing.”

That Mozart – I hated it. But it was fifteen minutes long, and sure enough, Marlon started into it a minute later. Not that he didn’t have to, and like, didn’t he know it? After I confronted him about Tiffany and smashed his dead grandmother’s Royal Daultons into his great-uncle Lloyd’s bust, he promised he’d never see her as long as I didn’t leave. I promised I’d never leave, long as he dropped Tiffany. But then, hey, didn’t he promise he’d be faithful until death did we part?

Tuesday was only three days away. Already had my apartment lease signed, ready to go. Marlon was heading out to Malibu for a surfing contest, would be gone until Thursday. And the movers were coming at ten in the morning – already arranged, they’d wait until the green Corvette was out of the driveway before coming up. But until then …

“Okay, Marlon, sweetheart,” I called over the balcony. “I’m ready. Honeybunch, let’s go to dinner. I have a special surprise for you when we go home.”

I giggled.