You and Darla have a tipsy dinner of mac-and-cheese and wine

"Ah ha ha!" Darla laughs. "She said what?"

You finish your mouthful of mac and cheese casserole and wash it down with a sip of wine.

"Mandy said she was going to steal Brian back for their anniversary," you tell the nail stylist you'd gone home with to keep her company tonight. "I said I'd be pleased to lend him to her as long as she brought him back in one piece."

Darla hiccups. "That's...that's very modern," she says.

"Well, I did steal him off her," you say. "Married him. Still got him after twenty years. At least when he's not out on the road driving a truck and poking his floozies."

"Don't ask, don't tell?" Darla says. She twists a lock of auburn hair between her glitter-enameled fingernails.

You shake your head. Your brown hair, free of hat, hairband, or waitress cap, falls over your face, and you push it back. "No, I know who they all are," you say. "Well, most of them. We promised each other before the Lord, that we'd never let another man or woman keep us apart, or be more important than each other. So when he's on the road, he can dip his wiener in his lady friends' foo-foos, and I can get with a lady, or a fella, as long as they know the deal. No tricks. No fooling."

"Foo-foos?" Darla says, giggling. "Wieners?"

"I can't help how I was raised," you say. "I could say lady parts. But most of the other words, they're either too medical or too crude, and the Good Book doesn't really help, you know. 'Loins' or 'Thigh' or something. Even the Song of Solomon goes hazy below the waist. So, well, I settle for cutesy."

"So," Darla says. "You promised you were gonna, ha ha, kiss up on my foo-foo?"

"I surely did," you say. "And I meant every word. I'm good with washing up the dishes and finding someplace comfy. Or some ladies, you know, they like to start in the shower. I don't mind either way."

"I'm good too," Darla says. "Let's get the dishes washed and leave 'em in the draining rack, that's good enough."

You help Darla tidy up the dinner pots and dishes. She starts letting out little giggles as your fingers touch while you're working at the sink. You have to put a hand on her back when she gets a little unsteady.

Maybe it's good you're not going to try and take a shower.

"Let's leave the rest, hon," you say, steadying her from behind. "Show me where we're gonna go."

Darla leads you to her bedroom. It's done up in bright contrasty colors, with a striped bedspread. There's an empty glass on the nightstand.

"Let me get a couple glasses of water," you say. "Be right back, hon."