It began as a bit of fun, I’ll admit it.
Tom was over at our place to watch the game on television. Usually, both he and his wife, Fran, would be over, but Fran was down south taking care of a sick sister, so it was just my good friend by himself with Dee and me.
I asked my wife for a minor favour. “Would you get us a beer, darling?” I asked, and Dee gave one of her smart-arse, uppety kind of replies.
“What am I? A maid? Get your own beer.”
I hadn’t thought it was too much to ask, but my wife flounced out of the room.
Tom muttered, “It’d be a cold day in hell before I’d let Fran get away with talking to me like that.”
I didn’t say anything, and we turned back to the game on television. But I considered Tom’s words and thought about the way Fran treated him. I had to admit that Fran did always seem to treat Tom with a certain . . . what? . . . respect? That and something more. Certainly there was plenty of love, and she always gazed at Tom with admiration, even a bit of deference.
I sighed as I rose out of my chair. “You want a beer, too?” I asked my friend.
“Sure, ” he said, and I thought I detected just the slightest snort of disgust when he said it.
Dee was in the kitchen, but I didn’t say anything as I brushed by her and got two beers, simply giving me a smug look and a wry grin. After Tom and I had settled in, we started to watch the game.
(more…)
