An Affair to Dismember Read Online Free PDF

the house, I was face-to-face with Betty Terns’ kitchen, a museum piece from the late 1960s in all its avocado-green glory. Wow, there was a lot of linoleum in that room.
    At the table were Betty and two youngish women who I assumed were her daughters. One I recognized as the bitch from earlier. She was the one angry at Christy, who had just been released from jail. Rob didn’t introduce me. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten about me altogether. His attention had shifted to the gleaming light in the small room beyond the kitchen. A big-screen TV was broadcasting a baseball game. He walked toward it as though in a trance. I watched in fascination and irritation as he took a seat in a recliner and leaned back, feet up. Obviously Rob was one of the Terns kids who wouldn’t leave the nest.
    I stood at the entrance to the kitchen, hoping that somehow the women hadn’t seen me and I could turn around and go back home, but I wasn’t so lucky. The three women were genuinely pleased I was there and gave me all their attention. Even though I had never taken any notice of them, they knew who I was.
    “Oh, Miss Burger,” Betty said. “I am thrilled you came by. This is so sweet of you, to give your condolences in person.”
    Betty Terns was small. The top of her head reached not far above the midsection on my five-foot-sevenframe, and her hair was bleached blond. Very bleached. Clorox bleached. And she was clearly not averse to wearing as much pancake makeup as she thought she needed. I bit my lip, awash in shame. I was supposed to be giving my condolences, and all I could do was mentally critique the physical attributes of the poor widow in front of me. How would I feel if she could read my mind? Poor lady. She had just lost her husband, for goodness’ sake. I looked at her with fresh eyes.
    Geez! She was skinny. Really, really skinny. Clearly the woman hated food. I fantasized a moment about giving her a few of my extra pounds. I could give her five pounds for her rear alone, and then both she and I would look so much better.
    “Honey? You went out on me for a moment there.”
    I blinked. Betty’s big blue eyes were staring up into mine with concern.
    “Sorry. I was just thinking of your husband.” Good save but terrible lie. I was going to hell for sure.
    “You are so sweet, Miss Burger. Won’t you sit with us? We were just talking about my Randy, bless his soul.” Well, well. It turned out that I wasn’t the only liar in the group.
    “Thank you, but please call me Gladie.”
    “And I’m Betty, and these are two of my daughters, Jane and Christy.”
    I shook their hands and sat down. Christy smiled from ear to ear, and I noticed she was missing more than a couple of teeth near the back of her mouth. Jane’s smile was more circumspect and a lot more hygienic.
    “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. I had heard the phrase on TV and didn’t know what else to say.
    “That’s where he died. Right there,” Christy announced.
    “Excuse me?”
    She pointed at me. “Where your arms are. His headhit right at that spot on the table. It split his head open like a melon.”
    My arms flew off the table as if they had been electrocuted, and I backed up in my seat.
    “His head didn’t split open like a melon. It was dented, like it was bashed in,” Jane the “bitch” added for good measure. “Besides, his head might have hit there, but he didn’t die there. He died on the floor.” She pulled out a cigarette from a pack on the table and popped it between her lips.
    We were interrupted by banging from another part of the house.
    “There he goes again,” said Christy.
    Betty turned to her. “Would you please tell your brother to stop that noise and come here? We have a guest, and he’s being plain rude.”
    Christy sighed loudly and shuffled out of the kitchen.
    “Peter thinks we might have termite trouble, and so he’s been digging in some walls,” Betty explained to me.
    “Yeah, right,” Jane