By Sarah Gamutan
My soul escaped, wanted another blast - a party animal which hailed from a stag party that had happened two nights ago. I guessed married men didn’t exist. I just shrugged, sauntered with Jen as we carried the luggage, brought it to the dresser, locked the closet and breathed deeply after such a day. I had met a man next door who was so laid back.
I just recalled how he brought it up. “Didn’t you ever get sick of it? The fuck- ups?!” he had exclaimed when I threw the wedding ring into the sand that same night I had arrived. He had preached like I hadn’t gone to a counselor in my five years of marriage. I wondered what I had missed.
I’m glad Jenny was here with me, in her party pants and red stilettos. “Here, take your pills. This will make it less painful,” she convicted.
“Thanks, Jen.” I paused, then asked “Is there something fucking wrong with me? I know I was a bit under the weather these past few days, but wouldn’t be it more painful to see your husband slowly going away, getting colder?”
She just sat holding her glass of wine and asked for a light. I made a monkey jump to hand her a lighter.
It was an addictive night, but it didn’t make me better. Though the room was warmed by the fire in the fireplace, a gust of wind from the window made me cold. If I were the mistress, I would be so lucky. I had to argue that sometimes things didn’t work out for the good.
Copyright ©2011, 2012 Sarah Gamutan. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.
Sarah Gamutan's poems have been published in many online literary journals including Carty's Poetry Journal, Western Australia Poets Inc. , The Beat, Literary Kicks, Haggard and Halloo Publications, The Camel Saloon, Rainbow Rose, Voxpoetica and The Sound of Poetry Review. She lives in Philippines where she works as a Customer Support Associate by night and a poet at heart by day.