Katie shook her head slightly and blinked, a frown creased her brow and her face settled into an expression that had become all too common lately. She pushed the faded cotton curtain over the sink aside, and peered out through the dusty glass towards the long unpaved drive that led from the old blacktop road up to their house. A dented red F-150 bumped up the drive followed by a cloud of brownish yellow dust that blasted furiously from beneath the tires only to slow, lose interest in the whole business and end up drifting aimlessly off into the cloudless summer sky. Before the truck had even stopped, the passenger door was flung open and her neighbor Mark jumped out and ran towards the house, tension written in every deep line of his weathered face. An instant thrill of fear ran through Katie. ‘Oh god…oh god…’ she thought, and she ran to the door and flung it open. Mark was breathless, his voice urgent and Katie found herself grabbing her purse and following him back to the truck. ’ PARTY! PARTY! Our Saturday night dinner party started on Saturday afternoon, with everybody sitting around our backyard patio, sipping drinks and, by the time that we were on our second round, telling stories. I heard about funny things that Marty and Marilyn did when they were dating, how Marilyn became the unofficial mother figure for their ‘gang,’ and about the time they all went to Colorado together to a custom car show and Marty rented one motel room, in which all the guys slept on the floor in sleeping bags while Marty and Marilyn shared the bed, and how embarrassed Marilyn was to be seen in bed with Marty because they weren’t married yet. Then there was the story about the afternoon of their wedding reception. The guys got drunk and put a black bra on the statue of Venus in the garden where the reception was held. Gordon added one last detail, ‘Nobody ever knew whose bra it was!’ ‘I knew,’ said Marilyn. ‘It wasn’t yours, was it?’ ‘No. Remember Geraldine, my bridesmaid?’ ‘It.
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