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The Unicorn 2
#TheWritingProject
It was two in the morning, and she told me in no uncertain terms I was spending the night. I’d been up almost twenty hours by then, and it sounded like a great idea. We managed to wake Steve enough to get him into bed, then I went into the guest room and crashed. It was ten before I woke up. I found Jen and Steve at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Jen looked just as gorgeous as ever, and Steve still looked a little green around the gills. I grinned.
“Man, am I ever hungry. I think I’ll make some breakfast. Red hot sausage, eggs with peppers and onions, covered in hot sauce. Better yet I’ll make my famous breakfast chili, and pour it over the eggs and potatoes. Greasy, fried potatoes, if they’re not dripping when you serve them, you’ve done it wrong. And the eggs have to be runny, so the hot chili can finish cooking them and soak the flavor in. How ‘bout a big bowl, Steve? You can wash it down with a Bloody Mary, with a few extra shots of tabasco sauce. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.”
Steve got progressively greener, until he jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I yelled at his retreating back. “Redneck wisdom here, Steve. Just because you bring a case of beer doesn’t mean you have to drink a case of beer. Now, how about breakfast?”
Jen swatted me on the arm, grinned, and then toasted bagels, with jams and cream cheese. It almost made Steve go back to the bathroom. I probably drank four cups of coffee. They bought the best, and had a maker designed by NASA. I think it even factored in barometric pressure while it brewed. Steve was back on the couch again when Jen took me back to my truck.
“I had a great time last night. Thank you. It’s been so long since I left the house for an evening that didn’t have an agenda other than having fun. I envy you.”
“Why, because I live a simple life? I probably make in a year what Steve makes in two or three days. I have to worry about bills, paying a mortgage and a car payment, wondering if my job will hold up or if I’ll be out on the streets if there’s a downturn in the economy. If Steve stopped bringing in money today, you could still live the same lifestyle you have right now for the rest of your life. Like the guy said, money won’t buy you happiness, but it will buy you the best brand of misery.”
“You think I care about any of that? I made enough off modeling that I’d never have to worry about what Steve has. I quit modeling with one goal: to find a good man and have a family. I’m trying to get Steve to start a family, and for three years in a row he’s said maybe next year. My clock is ticking honey. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Really? Are you even thirty yet? Relax, Jen. You have all the time in the world.”
Believe it or not, that was the first conversation I remembered when I found out he had died. No one notified me; I heard it on the nightly news like everyone else. I drove straight over, only to find the place...
It was two in the morning, and she told me in no uncertain terms I was spending the night. I’d been up almost twenty hours by then, and it sounded like a great idea. We managed to wake Steve enough to get him into bed, then I went into the guest room and crashed. It was ten before I woke up. I found Jen and Steve at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Jen looked just as gorgeous as ever, and Steve still looked a little green around the gills. I grinned.
“Man, am I ever hungry. I think I’ll make some breakfast. Red hot sausage, eggs with peppers and onions, covered in hot sauce. Better yet I’ll make my famous breakfast chili, and pour it over the eggs and potatoes. Greasy, fried potatoes, if they’re not dripping when you serve them, you’ve done it wrong. And the eggs have to be runny, so the hot chili can finish cooking them and soak the flavor in. How ‘bout a big bowl, Steve? You can wash it down with a Bloody Mary, with a few extra shots of tabasco sauce. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.”
Steve got progressively greener, until he jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I yelled at his retreating back. “Redneck wisdom here, Steve. Just because you bring a case of beer doesn’t mean you have to drink a case of beer. Now, how about breakfast?”
Jen swatted me on the arm, grinned, and then toasted bagels, with jams and cream cheese. It almost made Steve go back to the bathroom. I probably drank four cups of coffee. They bought the best, and had a maker designed by NASA. I think it even factored in barometric pressure while it brewed. Steve was back on the couch again when Jen took me back to my truck.
“I had a great time last night. Thank you. It’s been so long since I left the house for an evening that didn’t have an agenda other than having fun. I envy you.”
“Why, because I live a simple life? I probably make in a year what Steve makes in two or three days. I have to worry about bills, paying a mortgage and a car payment, wondering if my job will hold up or if I’ll be out on the streets if there’s a downturn in the economy. If Steve stopped bringing in money today, you could still live the same lifestyle you have right now for the rest of your life. Like the guy said, money won’t buy you happiness, but it will buy you the best brand of misery.”
“You think I care about any of that? I made enough off modeling that I’d never have to worry about what Steve has. I quit modeling with one goal: to find a good man and have a family. I’m trying to get Steve to start a family, and for three years in a row he’s said maybe next year. My clock is ticking honey. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Really? Are you even thirty yet? Relax, Jen. You have all the time in the world.”
Believe it or not, that was the first conversation I remembered when I found out he had died. No one notified me; I heard it on the nightly news like everyone else. I drove straight over, only to find the place...
