A Nice Guy 2

But, of course, her errant mind imagined reaching out a hand and playfully pinching one nipple, kissing him as he flinched with the pain and pleasure.

Stop it, Debbie, she told herself.

Randy said something, but her daydreaming mind had missed it.

“What’s that? Sorry, daydreaming,” she said.

Randy rattled a cart out of the clustered bunch and pushed it. Debbie put her hand on its edge, absently guiding it. The grocery stores air conditioning blasted them. Debbie wore a thick enough shirt that it didn’t matter, but she knew Randy’s nipples would be even more prominent. She’d have to resist looking. Or tweaking.

“I said do you want anything or just keeping me company?” he asked.

They weaved through the bakery’s fresh bread loaves and bins of gooey cookies.

“I’m sure I’ll find something. I’m in need of a carb,” she said.

“Who isn’t?” Randy tossed a wide loaf of Italian bread into the cart.

Neither spoke for a minute, and the oppressive silence got to her. She had to say something, but what she actually said came out before she could stop it.
“How are you guys? Really.” Debbie asked.

Randy paused, then answered, “We’re fine, pretty much. She–”

Debbie halted the cart near the cloudy lobster tank. Resigned to their fate, a dozen Cockroaches-of-the-Sea waited for death on the bottom. “You forget I lived with her for two decades. My sister is a bitch, Randy. A high octane bitch. That’s it. I see how she treats you. So let me rephrase and no bullshit, all right? How are YOU doing? Just YOU.”

Randy didn’t answer right away but stared at the floor. She knew he wavered between a dissembling lawyer-answer and a real one. Debbie knew which before he spoke. His eyes suddenly shimmered.
“I…I want a divorce,” he said. He shook his head, amazed that the words fell from his mouth. “Oh my God. That was the first time I ever said that aloud. I want a divorce.”

He slouched on the cart. It didn’t look like just a weight had been lifted from his shoulders but an entire goddamn elephant.

“Feel a little better?” Debbie asked.

“I do. Except for the stink of this tank,” Randy said. They sauntered the entire length of the candy aisle before speaking. It was six o’clock, but no one else surfed the grocery store besides them. In fact, they hadn’t seen anyone since walking in. Not even a stock boy or clerk. A ghost-town grocery store.

It’s horrible,” Randy said. “She’s changed.”

“Nope. She hasn’t changed. You’re just seeing her for WHAT she really is.Maybe for the first time.”

She thought he might argue the point but he only shrugged. “You’re right. Christ, five years. Only TWICE in the last fucking—ah, Never mind. That’s too much.”

Debbie stopped the cart once again. Randy’s shoes bashed against the rollers. He winced. “We’re friends. Say it,” Debbie demanded.

Randy spit the words. “We’ve only had sex twice in the last year.”

Debbie’s mouth fell open.

“Twice?” she said. She knew it was bad but not this bad. Her sister was sadistic. That was inhumane. “Fucking bitch!” Debbie said. She kicked the cart.


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