By Rachel Rossano (Divorce/Ice Cream/Delightful)
Trina slammed the front door of the apartment hard. Three books fell off the shelf next to it.
“I need ice cream!”
“What happened this time?” Her roommate, Janelle, sauntered into the living room wearing her Marvin Martian PJs with a book in hand. She plopped on the already sagging couch. Two volumes, large tomes on Tutor England, committed suicide off the sofa’s arm landing in a heap of fanned pages and twisted spines.
“He blew it! That is what. I want ice cream.” Shedding scarf, mittens, hat, and coat in her trek to the kitchen, Trina headed straight for the icebox.
“So, it is final?”
“You ate the Rocky Road!” Trina whined.
“It’s in the back left corner, behind the veggie burgers. What did he do?” Janelle called from the couch.
Plucking out the half gallon of ice cream, Trina pried off the lid, grabbed a fork from the dish strainer, and dove in to the cold goodness. The icy sweetness drove away the bad taste in her mouth after a meeting with her father’s latest soon-to-be-ex.
He always wanted her to get to know his new girlfriend or wife. “Welcome them to the family. Make them feel a part of the familial unit,” her father would beg. Then the end inevitably came. Three times now she was left to pick up the pieces, support the ex as a friend, and run communication lines between the two offended parties.
“How final is final?” Janelle appeared in the doorway to watch the decimation of her roommate’s diet.
Trina slowed to relish the melting silky sweetness in her mouth. “Divorce.”
“How delightful. What will she get?”
“Nothing, per usual. There is always an iron-clad pre-nuptial agreement.”
Janelle shook her head sadly.
“This is the last time.” Trina waved her fork. “When he asks this time, I am saying no. I will meet her, but that’s it. No girls-only lunches, shopping trips, or spa days. I will only socialize with her at family functions. I can’t take this drama.”
“He has the next one lined up already?”
Trina stabbed a cluster of chocolate covered peanuts. “A young thing, barely old enough to have finished college.”
“Poor child.”
“Hardly.” She scraped the bottom of the carton. “I think this one has his number. She is holding out for the ring, the money, and the heir.”
“Oh, an expert gold digger.”
“She can have it. I don’t want it.”
“I see a lot of Rocky Roads in your future.”
“Nope.” Trina tossed the empty carton into the garbage can and snapped the lid closed.
“This time he is truly on his own.”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“Move across the country.”
Janelle peered at Trina. “You wouldn’t leave me high and dry. I can’t afford the rent on this place by myself.”
“Don’t worry, Janie. I will pay my half of the rent. I got that temp job in Colorado researching for the famous author working on his super-secret next best seller. It is a legitimate excuse to be unavailable, plus a great paycheck and free lodging.”
“Good bye Rocky Road.” Janelle lifted her book like a champagne glass.
“Hello, life of my own.” Trina lifted her fork.
“We should celebrate. More ice cream, my treat.”
“Deal, but lose the PJs. I refuse to be seen with Marvin in public.”
Trina slammed the front door of the apartment hard. Three books fell off the shelf next to it.
“I need ice cream!”
“What happened this time?” Her roommate, Janelle, sauntered into the living room wearing her Marvin Martian PJs with a book in hand. She plopped on the already sagging couch. Two volumes, large tomes on Tutor England, committed suicide off the sofa’s arm landing in a heap of fanned pages and twisted spines.
“He blew it! That is what. I want ice cream.” Shedding scarf, mittens, hat, and coat in her trek to the kitchen, Trina headed straight for the icebox.
“So, it is final?”
“You ate the Rocky Road!” Trina whined.
“It’s in the back left corner, behind the veggie burgers. What did he do?” Janelle called from the couch.
Plucking out the half gallon of ice cream, Trina pried off the lid, grabbed a fork from the dish strainer, and dove in to the cold goodness. The icy sweetness drove away the bad taste in her mouth after a meeting with her father’s latest soon-to-be-ex.
He always wanted her to get to know his new girlfriend or wife. “Welcome them to the family. Make them feel a part of the familial unit,” her father would beg. Then the end inevitably came. Three times now she was left to pick up the pieces, support the ex as a friend, and run communication lines between the two offended parties.
“How final is final?” Janelle appeared in the doorway to watch the decimation of her roommate’s diet.
Trina slowed to relish the melting silky sweetness in her mouth. “Divorce.”
“How delightful. What will she get?”
“Nothing, per usual. There is always an iron-clad pre-nuptial agreement.”
Janelle shook her head sadly.
“This is the last time.” Trina waved her fork. “When he asks this time, I am saying no. I will meet her, but that’s it. No girls-only lunches, shopping trips, or spa days. I will only socialize with her at family functions. I can’t take this drama.”
“He has the next one lined up already?”
Trina stabbed a cluster of chocolate covered peanuts. “A young thing, barely old enough to have finished college.”
“Poor child.”
“Hardly.” She scraped the bottom of the carton. “I think this one has his number. She is holding out for the ring, the money, and the heir.”
“Oh, an expert gold digger.”
“She can have it. I don’t want it.”
“I see a lot of Rocky Roads in your future.”
“Nope.” Trina tossed the empty carton into the garbage can and snapped the lid closed.
“This time he is truly on his own.”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“Move across the country.”
Janelle peered at Trina. “You wouldn’t leave me high and dry. I can’t afford the rent on this place by myself.”
“Don’t worry, Janie. I will pay my half of the rent. I got that temp job in Colorado researching for the famous author working on his super-secret next best seller. It is a legitimate excuse to be unavailable, plus a great paycheck and free lodging.”
“Good bye Rocky Road.” Janelle lifted her book like a champagne glass.
“Hello, life of my own.” Trina lifted her fork.
“We should celebrate. More ice cream, my treat.”
“Deal, but lose the PJs. I refuse to be seen with Marvin in public.”
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