The Honeymooners
Fiction Friday
He wondered, would she let him sleep in? Ever? Where did she get all her energy? It was only day two, and they’d already seen everything there was to see on the island.
She was shy about mentioning that the warmth of his sperm excited her, after all those months of trying to keep it out with condoms. The unpackaged sex gave her blasts of energy. She was ready to shower and go!
Let’s stay in the hotel today, he said, we’re paying enough.
She thought they were being ripped off. She did some quiet negotiating with the hotel manager and got them free breakfast.
He was worried about the wedding gifts they had left piled up and unopened at his best man’s apartment, in a robbery-prone building where the buzzers didn’t work.
She told him all the checks and cash were in her parents’ safe.
He said, “You’re a smart cookie.”
She noted that he hadn’t called her pretty. She was developing an ache in her neck from keeping her good profile turned toward him.
He said he didn’t care where they went for dinner.
She thought, it’s starting already, he doesn’t care. She wanted to eat a movie-size box of licorice candy. Was she pregnant already? No tests for sale in the hotel lobby store. No licorice candy either.
That night they got sick from the seafood at the I-don’t-care-beach shack. They got on their knees and leaned over the one toilet in their hotel room, shoulder to shoulder, sometimes crown to crown. She insisted on being on his right. “If you’re going to watch me throw up at least see my good side,” she said hiding that little bulge where her nose met her cheek.
When it was all out of them she peeled off her smelly sundress, and he let his shorts drop. They flopped sweatily onto the bed. He threw an arm over her. It felt heavy but she left it there. He told her he thought both her profiles were beautiful.
Ronni Sandroff writes micro stories about the human comedy. www.ronnisandroff.com
