Day 308 – Meditation in the Backwaters of Outer Space – Part 9

I am really sorry for this. I am literally falling asleep whilst writing. Soemtimes I have closed my eyes a few times when writing this and found myself writing about what I was dreaming! which is completely different to what I am meant to be writing about. If you come across any bars or bartenders in the kitchen, that’s not meant to be in there…

Word count: 644

Straight from the honeymoon to his doorstep: the flight home from bliss must have been fantastic for them, knowing full well the hours they were going to steal from Jack. It was awful. No amount of spirits, of the liquid variety, could bring his happiness back. There was no stopping them – either of them. At some point during the honeymoon they must have assimilated and become the same person, except twice as infuriating – if that were at all possible.

Jack was sat, cornered, in his sofa, like a pathetic mouse afraid of a cat that clearly was not in the mood to chase its food. They were talking of showing honeymoon pictures. Jack drank his drink in larger gulps. They had no stopped talking about the wedding and the honeymoon since they had poured into the house, briefly asked Jack how he was, and claimed the other sofa for their own kingdom. They had seen the historical thing of whatnot, they had been down that famous lane, walked along those sunset beaches and done all those things that everybody else does when they are on holiday, but that everyone pretends they were the soul adventurers in their chosen article of vocational pleasure.

Jack was bored. Jack was very, very bored, but he knew that this was the best the night would offer. Soon the conversation would turn. They were not here for some nonsensical reason. They were not here because they wanted to be or wanted to be with him. They were here to tell him off. Emma was probably here to kill him for sleeping with her sister. They were nearing the end of their holiday chat, at least Jack guessed, judging by the fact that it was now three hours in.
“It was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Shame to be going back home, actually.”
“I know, it’s a real shame but I couldn’t get any more time off than that. Plus if we leave that place who knows what might happen to it?”
They were referring to their new cottage, which was in the latter stages of being built. Jack crossed his fingers and mentally begged god, “Please catch fire, please catch fire.”
The awkward silence fell. Emma was humming some forties song under her breath. Jack was getting angry now. The thin guise for why he was here was waning. The time would come for him to mount his horse of defence and charge like a kamakazi maniac without a hope in the world.
“About my sister, Regina,” Emma had sought the first move. “You hurt her.”
“Only a little – but not intentional. Not at all.”
“I trust you on that one, but it’ still not sitting right with me.”
“Listen, I was drunk, she was drunk…”
“My sister doesn’t get drunk….”
“Yes she does, else why end up with me?”
Emma sighed, “She has had some feelings for you even before you two met.
“What, how?”
“Through what I told her?”
“What did you tell her – that I’m some sort of French lover?”
“Of course not! I just told her funny stories about you. I thought you would appreciate being talked to for once instead of talked at.”
“Listen, I’m sorry for the way it started, ended and whatever has happened with her now. But I’m just going to get some tea on, anyone else?”
“Yes please, some tea would be great,” Jack’s brother piped up.

“That’s cool, I’ll sort that out.”

Jack got up and hobbled to the kitchen. He stuck the kettle on and then opened the window. This was it. No matter how much pain he was in, he was going to bed down and get through that gap into safety, wherever that might be. Emma would insist on a search party being organised if he didn’t return the next day, but Jack had no intention of disappearing…

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~ by S.G. Mark on August 10, 2012.

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