“I was pretty sure saying yes to Eddie’s proposal was a mistake the night I met his family. Or maybe I mean The Family. Or maybe I just mean his mother. I saw her watching as we approached. She was wearing a sparking white dress and though she had to have been in her late forties, she had a killer body. Or do I mean a Killer’s body?
When we finally reached her, I barely heard Eddie’s introduction because my eyes were mesmerized by the necklace that covered almost all of her décolletage. Small, sparking rubies were set in a web of fragile, almost invisible gold, so that they looked like drops of blood across her chest.
She broke an awkward silence by making it even more awkward when she said in a husky voice, ‘My eyes are up here.’
My gaze flew to her face, trying to see whether I should laugh, but her eyes, as if another part of her necklace, were spiderlike, assessing what had stumbled into her web. Eddie had turned away, either looking for the quickest exit or someone carrying a tray of cocktails.
‘I was admiring your necklace,’ I admitted.
Her lips twitched a little at the corners when she said, ‘I like to think of the rubies as little drops of blood from all the unsuitable companions I’ve been forced to eradicate from my children’s lives.’
Yes, I would definitely tell Eddie I’d changed my mind about getting married. Only then I heard myself saying, ‘How precious you are. Eddie didn’t tell me about your macabre sense of humor.'”
I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.