WEEK FORTY
My marriage ended, as so many marriages do, at a bridge party.
We had been playing bridge with Jerri and Tom Krebs since we all met at college. Tom - who was the first to drop out - was a used car salesman, but he had long ago made it clear that he would not set foot in a house where people thought it was okay to make fun of his profession, so Gertrude and I usually got the jokes out of our system before he came over. Although she had gained some weight over the years and the six children, Jerri still retained some of the beauty that had made her the third runner up in the Miss Cheektowaga Cherry Festival Pageant of the Year Cough Cough Cough Ahem.
Gertrude had put them off for as long as she could after I had returned, but she had finally run out of excuses. Jerri and Tom seemed eager to come over; if I had to deal with six children, I probably would have been, too.
"Pass," Tom said once we had settled at the bridge table we usually set up in the den and the first hand had been dealt. "Did you see the latest?"
"Pass," I said. "What latest?"
"Pass," Jerri, whose cut had paired her with Tom to begin with meant that she sat opposite him, said. "Tom - don't start."
"Don't start what?" Gertrude asked. "One club."
"The photo supposedly taken at a secret CIA prison," Tom told her. "Pass."
"Supposedly?" I asked. Gertrude had warned me against saying anything that would upset Jerri and Tom, but I couldn’t let the comment go without saying something. Realizing that several seconds of silence had elapsed, I added: "Pass."
"Harry, please!" Jerri stated. "Pass."
"Do we want to play a contract at the one level?" Gertrude asked. We all agreed that we didn't, so we threw in the hand and Harry shuffled and dealt a new hand.
"Pass," I started. "You talking about the photo of the naked men in the shape of a Christmas tree?"
"Phil, let it pass."
"Pa -"
"Sorry, that wasn't a pass," Jerri interrupted. "I was just making a comment. One diamond."
"Okay, well, I still pass."
"Yeah," Tom said. "That's the one. Pass. Obviously, it's a fake."
"Why do you say it's a fake?" I challenged. After a few seconds, Gertrude reminded me that I hadn't bid. "What? Oh. Pass. So. The photo - why do you think it's fake?"
Jerri threw in her cards. "What was that for?" Tom asked.
"We passed out another one level contract," Jerri told him.
"Fuck the one level contract!" I was getting fed up with the game. They all looked at me as I added, "Why do you think the photo was fake?"
"Well, obviously," Tom coldly informed me. "This is the United States of America. We -"
"Say we don't do that."
"What?"
"I dare you to say that America doesn't do that."
"That's what I was going to say."
"Motherfucker!"
"Phil, that's enough!" Gertrude tried to interject. She may as well have tried to stop a run-away freight train with a limp noodle.
"What's it to you?" Tom, his voice rising, hotly asked.
"I WAS THE ANGEL ON TOP OF THE TREE, MOTHERFUCKER!" I shouted. "I KNOW THAT WE DO THAT BECAUSE WE DID THAT TO ME!"
After several seconds of silence, Tom quietly asked, "Assuming that’s true, what did you do?"
"I’m sorry?"
"You must have done something to be treated that way. After all, if you’re innocent, you have nothing to fear."
"Bullshit! I was innocent, and they took me away and did that to me anyway!"
Tom chewed on this for a second, then stated with some finality: "If you say so. Still, arbitrary detention of citizens is the price we pay for freedom!"
Jerri, rolling her eyes in disgust, rose. She gave a Tom a commanding nod of the head, and he got on his feet. "Well," she quietly sniffed. "That was...interesting. Gertrude, thank you for another delightful evening. Phil...if you'll just get our coats, we'll be on our way."
"But, we haven't even played a hand!" Gertrude mildly protested.
"Do I have to make an excuse for why we're leaving early?" Jerri shrilly asked. "Because, I can, Gertrude. I can, and I will. So, tell me: do I really have to make an excuse for why we're leaving early?"
"No."
Soon after Jerri and Tom left, I was kicked out of the house.
SOURCE: Harpo’s
[http://harpos.org/archive/2012/10/07/dd-9000040]
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