Favors
A novel by Tom Ahern
For the fireman’s daughter;
for Steve M., with his true-life tales of corruption;
... and always Amen for Simone Joyaux, my principled wife:
none of these things would have happened on her watch.
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PRESCRIPT
The most painful thing Phil Gambardella had felt in his five years of marriage to Celie was the ache inside his gut each time he couldn’t get up the nerve to ask her, Would she, could she "make love"?
In his mind "make love" meant "fuck" of course. He was male.
In his mind she always said no. So he rarely if ever asked.
No matter what approach he imagined, it was always no. In his mind.
He froze. Into mute smiling inaction.
He couldn’t remember if she ever really had said no. Maybe once. For medical reasons.
But that was enough. He didn’t have the guts to ask her again after that. For at least the last year, since the, their, baby died. Jesus wept.
Just a year ago, their marriage had been a bonfire of hope.
Now it was cold ash. No warm bodies.
Phil’s first waking thought each day: sadness, loss and resignation. He was happy for a moment when he wasn't awake, but just. Then the thought switched on in his brain's attic: he was due only sadness, loss and resignation. So he then and there each morning served himself a tiny cupful of just those three ingredients. He had grown quite comfortable with the whole thing.
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