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18
For a long beat or two, Patty and I wait for Jake to enter the bedroom. I wait for the door to slam behind him. When it finally happens, I go to the dining room and help myself to another drink. My body is so electrically charged, my nerve endings feel exposed and frayed. How’s the Talking Heads song go again? “Don’t touch me, I’m a real live wire.” I down the drink and pour another.
Patty approaches me.
“Don’t you think you should take it easy?” she says. “You were a dead man this morning. You seem to be forgetting that.”
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