A Poem for What's Her Name by Dani O'Connor

Author:Dani O'Connor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781883523787
Publisher: Spinsters Ink Books
Published: 2007-02-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I slept hard and actually felt rested when I woke up Monday morning. I lay in bed for a few minutes before getting up to bask in the fact that I was still in love and still living in our amazing home. I looked around the room and saw the art and knickknacks we acquired over our years together. Then something struck me funny. I could literally see them, it was light in the room. My alarm was set for five, so it was supposed to be dark when I got up.

“Aaaaargh! Fuuuuccckkk!” I screamed and glanced at the clock. 8:42.

I overslept almost four hours? That was impossible. I had two alarms and the coffeepot set. I took a deep breath—no, no smell of coffee. I pulled the covers over my head and soccer kicked my legs.

“This is a nightmare, this is a nightmare . . . the last two days have just been a nightmare. Today is only Sunday.” I was almost in tears.

I regained my composure and turned on the TV. “Good Morning America” was on. Shit.

“Son of a bitch! Aaaarrrggghhh!” I screamed again, scaring the cat.

“Oh my gawd! She’s alive and pissed!” Someone shouted from the kitchen. The someone, of course, was my partner in crime who was also apparently late for work.

“What the hell is going on?” I shouted back. “Is it Groundhog Day?”

“I got you babe—now come here, woodchuck-chucker.” She caught the movie reference. She was seated on the kitchen floor surrounded by my personal boxes from the attic. The sight was quite adorable. Kitty was weaving in and out of boxes and my sweetie was wearing a cowboy hat, cowboy pajamas, bunny slippers and a green wool scarf. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why am I home when it’s daylight on a Monday? Why aren’t you at work? Why are you going through those bullshit boxes of useless crap? Why don’t I smell coffee? Did you feed the kitty?”

“Wow. You sure curse a lot and ask a lot of questions. Kitty is fed, I will make a fresh pot in a minute, the boxes are full of wonderful stories and poetry written by my favorite author, I didn’t have anything major to do today, and you called in sick.”

I stood there dumbfounded. She answered all my questions, in reverse order, but I liked all the answers. I walked to the fridge and poured some orange juice.

“Oh.” I said with a feeling of relief. “Did I really call in sick?”

“You played dueling alarm clocks all morning and seemed to have no intention of getting up. I got tired of your crawling over me to hit snooze, so I turned off the alarms and got up. I called your secretary at seven thirty and told her you were sick. Did you know that you have only called in sick twice in the past four years?”

“Yes, and both times were because you dragged me off for a three-day weekend. What did she say about my not being

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