93 Percent Smiling
April 2, 2017
Sunday morning. For some a time to think of hangover cures. For others a welcome ‘lay-in’. It’s a time for cuddles and kisses and sensuous embraces under the covers. For breakfast in bed. For contemplating life, the universe and everything. For going to church, or just listening to the grass grow.
At 1.40 am last Friday morning Gabby and Dee were fiercely arguing. I did not interrupt but remained listening to their raised voices in my bedroom. They had both been drinking and alcohol fuelled their anger.
‘Stop provoking me,’ Gabby yelled at one point. ‘Just stop fucking provoking me, Dee. I mean it.’
Their anger was fast become phosphorescent. The stupid thing was the argument probably began in fun: one or other of them taking the piss in a light-hearted way; but then, because of the drink, offence was taken – that’s usually the way it begins between them.
Oh, how they love, these two. Such volatile individuals. Love and hate, the two sides of the same coin. They only forgave each other Saturday evening. They drifted like a pair of ghosts through Friday evening and Saturday daytime. Then, finally, Saturday evening Dee spoke –
‘Would you mind if I looked at your copy of Cosmo.’
And everything was suddenly alright between them. Communication resumed. They kissed and made up.