The Potomac — Poetry and Politics - Barbara DeCesare
Winter 2009 - THE POTOMAC

Three Shorts
   Barbara DeCesare

The Last Christmas Party

Nobody’s gonna know, she says, but I know. That’s enough.  John’s my best friend, this is his wife, for chrissakes, we would know, and how do you pretend you don’t know when you know? She’s not stopping for reason, for vodka, what’s a man to do?  All through college I’ve never -- I’ve screwed John’s girlfriends but that was different.  Those girls weren’t important. They weren’t his wife.  But this, gorgeous, what’s she wearing, red thong, little bra that doesn’t cover nipples, just boosts her tits.  How can I, God, do anything but sink into her like a spur?

True Story with Yearbook Photos: Lorain, Ohio 1986

    “What you don’t understand, I, well, we went to high school together...”

    “Yeah I know that, that’s not the issue.  The issue is $6,000 for a clean job.”

    “Yeah, but, this isn’t really, I mean, I’ve never even, I’ve never done anything ...”

    “Ok, Ok, but it’s $6,000.00.  If you want to make it, you’ve got to start somewhere.  Here’s what happens:  He gets in around 11:45, parks his rig over there, and when he walks around to the back, Pop Pop! You go home with $6,000.  No mystery here.  What’s the hold up?”

    “No hold up.  Sorry.”

    “Ok.  Ok.”

Romeo, Romeo

Todd pulled the IV out of his arm and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He grabbed his blue jeans and marched to Lucy’s room.  “Look,” he whispered, “I just can’t go through with it. The kidney, the wedding, it’s all too much. You’ll be fine.  I know it.” Todd slid the ring off her finger, yanked on his jeans and left the hospital, barefoot.  Lucy, from under the oxygen mask and a layer of coma, knew this would happen, hoped for it, and let herself sink deeper away from him, at last.


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