Post by Cannonball on Sept 24, 2006 15:19:31 GMT -5
Sam Guthrie hadn't realised until Brenda had been home to move most of her things out of their small one-bedroomed apartment just how little he owned. Out of the 'kindness of her heart' she'd left him one of the armchairs (for now), the portable TV from the bedroom (Sam barely watched TV anyway) and enough crockery and cutlery to last him until the apartment was sold.
She'd taken the tin-opener with her.
Sam mused on this as he sat there with his tin of beans that he couldn't open, and the loaf of bread that he couldn't toast because she'd taken the toaster AND the oven. She'd left him the microwave, but not even Sam was dumb enough to try making toast in the microwave.
He was still decidedly baffled as to just why Brenda had left him in the first place and, despite it being more than two months since she had first moved back to her parent's house in Atlanta, every time he walked back into the empty apartment it hurt as much as the first time.
Sam took his knife out of his jeans pocket and very carefully began working his way round the bean tin. Beans on toast would have been nice, beans on bread and butter would suffice.
Only then he discovered that there was no butter. Or spread of any description.
It was not turning out to be his day. With a sigh, the young man got to his feet and headed out to his violently orange car to head down to the store and actually do some shopping. As he walked around with his basket, he felt oddly forlorn as he put in his small carton of milk, tub of low-fat spread (Brenda's dieting habits had got to him), packet of tortilla chips and two litre bottle of Coke. It was a single man's basket.
A single man.
When he and Brenda had first got married, he'd spent ages relishing the fact that he was part of a marriage. A couple. A twosome. He had a wife. He loved saying it. "This is Brenda. My wife." The pride was always evident in his voice. Now it was "There's Brenda, my ex-wife."
Almost out of spite, he picked up a family sized bar of chocolate to add to his basket. No single man would be buying chocolate unless it was for their wife, would they?
God, he was becoming bitter.
Rather embarrassed, he took the chocolate back out of the basket and put it back on the shelf.
He paused briefly in front of the cans of beer and considered a six pack. He'd given up alcohol before he'd got married. Not a drop had passed his lips in nearly four years, but right now the idea of drinking himself comatose was oddly attractive.
No, Momma would never forgive him. Their relationship was already in the balance after he'd driven out there this afternoon and told her that he and Brenda had split up. Her hurt wasn't so much the fact that her beloved boy had split from the Georgia Witch, more the fact that he'd taken three months to tell her. Truth was, he hadn't known how to tell her.
She'd cried, he'd cried, they'd patted each other on the back and he'd gone away in his orange monstrosity. Back to his apartment. On his own.
He paid for his purchases and carried them out to the car. He sat in the parking lot for a while, staring over the steering wheel, when the idea came to him.
He'd head up to New York. Go visit his sister. The old jalopy was still tough enough for a road trip. And wouldn't Paige be surprised to see him?
Well - yes, she would - and given that her temper was just as bad as his - if not worse - calling her up first might be a better plan.
Taking heart at the idea, he drove home and ate his cold beans on bread in a much happier mood before he picked up the phone and called up his sister.
She'd taken the tin-opener with her.
Sam mused on this as he sat there with his tin of beans that he couldn't open, and the loaf of bread that he couldn't toast because she'd taken the toaster AND the oven. She'd left him the microwave, but not even Sam was dumb enough to try making toast in the microwave.
He was still decidedly baffled as to just why Brenda had left him in the first place and, despite it being more than two months since she had first moved back to her parent's house in Atlanta, every time he walked back into the empty apartment it hurt as much as the first time.
Sam took his knife out of his jeans pocket and very carefully began working his way round the bean tin. Beans on toast would have been nice, beans on bread and butter would suffice.
Only then he discovered that there was no butter. Or spread of any description.
It was not turning out to be his day. With a sigh, the young man got to his feet and headed out to his violently orange car to head down to the store and actually do some shopping. As he walked around with his basket, he felt oddly forlorn as he put in his small carton of milk, tub of low-fat spread (Brenda's dieting habits had got to him), packet of tortilla chips and two litre bottle of Coke. It was a single man's basket.
A single man.
When he and Brenda had first got married, he'd spent ages relishing the fact that he was part of a marriage. A couple. A twosome. He had a wife. He loved saying it. "This is Brenda. My wife." The pride was always evident in his voice. Now it was "There's Brenda, my ex-wife."
Almost out of spite, he picked up a family sized bar of chocolate to add to his basket. No single man would be buying chocolate unless it was for their wife, would they?
God, he was becoming bitter.
Rather embarrassed, he took the chocolate back out of the basket and put it back on the shelf.
He paused briefly in front of the cans of beer and considered a six pack. He'd given up alcohol before he'd got married. Not a drop had passed his lips in nearly four years, but right now the idea of drinking himself comatose was oddly attractive.
No, Momma would never forgive him. Their relationship was already in the balance after he'd driven out there this afternoon and told her that he and Brenda had split up. Her hurt wasn't so much the fact that her beloved boy had split from the Georgia Witch, more the fact that he'd taken three months to tell her. Truth was, he hadn't known how to tell her.
She'd cried, he'd cried, they'd patted each other on the back and he'd gone away in his orange monstrosity. Back to his apartment. On his own.
He paid for his purchases and carried them out to the car. He sat in the parking lot for a while, staring over the steering wheel, when the idea came to him.
He'd head up to New York. Go visit his sister. The old jalopy was still tough enough for a road trip. And wouldn't Paige be surprised to see him?
Well - yes, she would - and given that her temper was just as bad as his - if not worse - calling her up first might be a better plan.
Taking heart at the idea, he drove home and ate his cold beans on bread in a much happier mood before he picked up the phone and called up his sister.
