For What it's Worth

Antenuptial

The smell of dried piss and mildew gave way to the sweet, pungent tang of sweat. She was close, almost at the point of no return. A quick look around the cramped tiled room. Even the sallow, brown grime crusted on the lip of the urinal and soggy wads of tissue by her knees weren’t enough to shake two hours of martinis and tequila shots at Sonsie. She didn’t look up as she customarily did with Rob, but began, absent of guilt or further hesitation.

Sonsie was more to Jennifer’s suiting. Open and inviting. Men wore pressed oxfords and women didn’t streak their hair an ungodly red that looked like spray paint. That’s where Sheila led the party after Cosmopolitans atop the Prudential and caviar and salad nicoise washed down with champagne at the Four Seasons. Through it all Jennifer had to wear the white chiffon veil that flopped into her face with each roast incited guffaw.  Continue reading →