“No divorce,” Imogene said, “pass me the butter.”
“You hate me,” said Louie as he passed the butter, “why not just –“
“I don’t hate you.” Imogene smiled. “I loathe you.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Which one first, how about Margo, the office bimbo?” said Imogene.
“Get over it,” said Louie, “I said I was sorry.”
“Delightful, is what you called her.”
‘I never said –“
“Can you pour me some more Pinot, Louie, it is absolutely exquisite. At least you can pick wines, how do you like the soufflé?”
“Margo was a one-night stand. The soufflé is delight- .”
“And your little side business?”
“So I moved a few dollars, the company will never know,” Louie said, “and you got a house. You didn’t complain.”
“Neither did Lena and Francie, and I almost forgot Tiffany. You embezzled to keep those girls shining for the good times. I got the house to shut me up.”
“You’re right. So why the hell can’t you divorce me?”
“I want you to suffer and be miserable. I want you to know every day, every minute, and every second of the rest of your worthless life that I know about your crime.”
“You agreed to talk about divorce tonight,” said Louie, “you made my favorite meal. You said we’d work something out.”
“That makes my decision more painful for you,” said Imogene, “I enjoy your groveling. It goes well with the wine. It is delightful.”
Louie jumped from his chair and wrapped his fingers around Imogene’s throat and shook her.
“If I’m going to jail, you won’t be here to enjoy it,” Louie shouted.
Imogene’s arms flailed. Her left hand found a fork and brought it down on Louie’s arm. He screamed and let go of Imogene and grabbed his bicep. Blood tricked through his shirt and then through his fingers. Imogene shoved him and ran to the kitchen. She returned with a huge carving knife, and charged at Louie like a bull at Pamplona. Louie raised a chair and fended her off.
“Calm down, you pissed me off, Imogene,” Louie, “I don’t like the truth. Calm the hell down.”
“I’d like to cut your heart out,” said Imogene. She threw the knife at him, but he blocked it with the chair.
“Come on,” Louie said, “we’re going to sit down and act civilized and work something out.”
Imogene opened her mouth but said nothing. Louie put his arm around her and looked at her. “All right,” she said, “I can’t fight. Whatever you want.”
“That’s a good girl, honey, it’s best for both of us. Here, sit down.” Louie righted her chair, “Let’s finish dinner and talk.”
“Your arm?”
“It doesn’t hurt that much, not like when you smashed that Limoges over my head while I was watching television. Now that hurt!”
They both laughed and sat down.
“You always watch those damn reality shows, for hours, especially the one about those slimy hoarders,” said Imogene, “and that day was the one about the guy who kept rats in that mess.”
“That was a great one,” said Louie with a smile, “but not as great as this meal.Thank you, Imogene, no matter what happens, you are the best cook. I will never eat a meal without comparing it to you.”’
Imogene leaned towards Louie. “I hope you end up with some blousy babe who puts a hundred pounds on you with her lousy meals,” said Imogene, “and one romantic evening your girth crushes her to death in bed.”
“Is there a better way to go – riding the saddle,” said Louie, and they laughed again. “Any coffee, Imogene? Let me get it” Louie brought two cups and the coffee pot to the table and poured.
“Let me get the desert, Louie,” Imogene said, “I almost forgot about it with all the hilarity around here.”
“Dessert – yes! What’d you make?” said Louie, “You know I like everything.” He followed Imogene into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I don’t see it. What is it?”
“You sit down now, I’ll get the dessert from the oven, and you take these plates and a serving spoon to the table. Go on.”
Louie did as told and sat like a school kid at a birthday party. “From the oven. Did you make a pie? Blueberry – my favorite! No – you made an apple cobbler! You know I love that.”
“Wrong,” said Imogene as she set a serving plate on the table and removed the lid.
“Baked Alaska,” shouted Louie, “My all-time number one! Thank you! I love it – yours is the best! What flavor ice cream did you use?”
“I used Spumoni, Louie.”
“My favorite!”
“I know,” said Imogene, “I’ve seen you eat gallons.”
“Hurry, dish it out – I can’t wait.”
Imogene was about to serve, but Louie snatched the serving spoon and started eating from the server, devouring half the dessert in two minutes.
“Hold on, champ, take a break,” said Imogene, “Pour me another glass of Pinot.”
Louie filled her glass to the rim. “Imogene, this is truly delightful, and I mean that.”
“I’m sure you do, darling,” said Imogene. “I made it special for you.”
“You are a saint,” said Louie through the ice cream, “Don’t worry, no matter what, I’ll split everything with you.”
‘There’s no problem, Louie, I don’t want any split.”
“Why not,” he said as he sat back, looking as if he had just finished the best sex of his life.
“Because in about two minutes, darling, you’ll be dead. I won’t have to split a thing with you.”
Louie started to laugh, but his face contorted. He grabbed at his throat, and then his heart as he fell from his chair to the floor. “Imogene –“
Imogene sipped her wine, and knelt down. “Sorry, Louie, do you still think that ice cream was truly delightful?”