you're too young & eager to love

This is so meager that it's not really worth posting.

More Claudette bits, just working with her development. Or I was trying to, anyway.

-


When you still taste like wine and your husband, you kiss her. A swift, soft press of your mouth against her cheek. The curve of her stomach is starting to show, and you laugh when you lean back, flourishing your wine glass with a gesture. This is celebratory, and you call her a vessel with mock severity.

-

You do not think Romy a rival.

It is only that you collaborate: in play, in yearning, in life.

-

For your third date, you took your husband to a Gwar concert.

You were surprising then, and you haven’t quite lost the charm now. You don’t like to be confined, you don’t like the labels, or the women in the neighborhood that think you belong because your pencil skirt is Burberry. You still play rock music too loudly; you cut your favorite passages from books and use them as art to hang, framed, on your bedroom walls; your wedding ring is not Tiffany & Co. but a delicate antique.

You refuse to be definable, and your eyes tell Romy this in one simple stare.

-

The first time Hugh leaves for business, you make dinner for yourself. You forget about the other woman living with you, about the child she is carrying for you. You split your serving and make a large salad, improvising.

While you eat, you tell her that a beautiful woman or a beautiful man is the second most dangerous thing in the world.

“What’s the first?” She asks, twirling a piece of ranch-drenched lettuce with her fork.

You smile and refill her glass of ice water.

-