He wished he hadn’t drunk so much the night before. Puking is such a turn-off. But it happened. C’est la vie. That sure sounds classier than “What the fuck”. The only redeeming aspects were that a) she was as drunk as he was and b) his condo had two bathrooms. Now, sitting at the dining room table, his hand gripping his coffee cup like it contained gold, he simply stared at the ash tray beside him. There they were, the butts. Hers had her lipstick on them, that shade that drove him crazy. What woman smokes unfiltered Camels? She does.
He heard the shower running.
“Better get her a toothbrush.” Walking to the bathroom he found the stock of new toothbrushes in the vanity and put one on the counter. Beside it, he placed a cup of coffee, cream with sugar. He liked anticipating her needs, and what was this, their third date? He worked quickly, the noise of the shower, muffling the minimal noise he made, the opacity of the shower curtain preventing her seeing him. Completing the little tasks, he went back to the table, sitting down just as the shower turned off. He heard her bustling about in the bedroom and was surprised when she crept up, kissing the back of his neck. He noticed her perfume first. When she came in to his view, she was wearing one of his white dress shirts she found hanging in his closet. Crisply starched, she had rolled the sleeves a couple of turns. The shirt was long enough on her to cover her butt.
“Thank you. That was sweet to bring me coffee, and just the way I like it. You remembered. I thought you were too drunk to even remember your own name. And the toothbrush. Not too hard to figure out my mouth tasted like the bottom of a bird cage. Where did you sleep? I woke up alone in that big bed.”
“The couch. Just because you were too drunk to drive home and you crashed here doesn’t entitle me to a freebie.”
“Your Mama raised you right. You aren’t a pig.”
“How about we move your car before they tow it, then go to that diner up on Broad for breakfast?
“Sounds like a plan.”
To be continued.