Page 2 of One More Chance

“That’s so much more than I needed to know,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me. My face involuntarily scrunches up and I gag.

“Oh, come on! It’ll make it more special. But I also know myself, and thus another reason Cora and I should stay here while her brother stays in the cabin with Gentry,” she says, giving me a knowing look.

And I know my sister too. She’s not one to keep her hands off Gentry. They’re electric. This entire ordeal will certainly be a challenge for them. So at the very least, they need distance.

“I didn’t know Cora was bringing anyone,” I say, wanting to change the topic to anything other than their sex life.

“She convinced her brother to come with her because she has an awful track record in the romance department and didn’t want the pressure of finding a date. She tempted him with an open bar. He’s single, you know,” Lyla says, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes at her. “Okay, that’s my exit cue. I’m going to bed.” With that, I turn toward the kitchen door and wave over my shoulder at Lyla, who’s still jabbering on about Cora’s little brother. But I’m not listening to any of it. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a leper. A leper with some other sort of disease affecting his genitals too. As a matter of fact, he’s a leper with diseased genitals and hairy moles all over his back.

Since Charles left, I’ve taken up stock in the middle of the bed. Which is exactly where I tuck myself in now. I glance around my room. This used to be the room Gentry was staying in for a while. I decided to keep the dark green paint job and black curtains he left behind. Well, I kindly requested he leave the curtains. I liked the calming effect of the dark palette. It didn’t feel too manly. Just comfortable.

I flip from my left side to my right, trying my best to get comfortable. My long blonde hair cascades over my shoulders and I take it between my fingers. Every now and then I consider cutting it but can never work up the courage. My entire life, I’ve never had more than a trim. When I started dating Charles, he would frequently remind me that short hair was not my look and I should keep it long for both our sakes. A very small part of me occasionally got the urge to cut it just out of spite, but then I’d think better of it.

At some point I fall asleep, with white wedding gowns twirling in my head. I can’t see the woman’s face or hair. Just wisps of white flowing outward and falling all over everything.