table.
“What else am I supposed to think? He doesn’t pay a lick of attention to me. I can’t remember the last time he even touched me beyond the obligatory peck goodbye.” Caledonia swept her long blonde hair behind her back.
“He never has been the romantic type though, has he?”
“Well, no. He was before we got married. He was romantic and affectionate. Then we got married, and I guess he figured he’d bought the cow but realized he didn’t like milk.” She slumped back in her chair.
“Oh, you . . .” Paprika gently touched Caledonia’s arm.
“I tell you one thing. I know now what Elvis was talking about.”
“What do you mean?” Paprika’s brow wrinkled.
“I feel so lonesome I could die.” Caledonia’s eyes met her best friend’s, and Paprika could see the hurt in them.
“I think it’s ‘so lonesome I could cry ,’” Paprika gently corrected.
“Well I could do that too.” Caledonia propped her arm on the table and dropped her chin into her hand.
“Oh, honey,” Paprika soothed.
“The few times we discussed it, if you could call it a discussion, Phil made it clear I was expecting too much. He said I wanted to live in a romance novel. He said I have it all: kids, a big house, I don’t have to work, I can buy most anything I want . . . ” Her voice trailed off.
“But what good is all that if you don’t have love and affection? If you don’t have genuine companionship?” Paprika said quietly. “You need someone to watch your back.”
“You know, I think if I stood naked in front of the TV, Philetus would tell me I was blocking his view. The only time he notices me is when his laundry isn’t done or his toilet isn’t cleaned.”
“Now you are bumming, aren’t you, sugar? Tell you what do,” Paprika said in her best Southern diction, “why don’t you bake up some of your famous chocolate chip cookies and Oreo fudge brownies and take some to his office. You could surprise him. He’ll love you to pieces for it.”
“You think?”
“I do. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, that’s what my mama always said.” She paused for several seconds and gave Caledonia a mischievous look. “Or through his chest with a shotgun.”
Caledonia laughed. “Did your mama say that?”
“No, I said that.” Paprika smiled sweetly.
“I don’t know.” Caledonia slumped into her chair. “I’m kind of tired of trying anymore. I’m thinking I should have just gone into Louis P. Howe’s law office instead of buying that dress.”
“California, you stop all that negative talk right this minute,” Paprika cried.
“I’d rather be a Carolina than a California.”
“Too bad. California sounds more like Caledonia, and besides, you of all people should know you can’t pick your own nickname.” She stood. “Tell you what. You think Pickle would mind the kids while you and I treated ourselves to a girly lunch?”
Caledonia’s face broke into a smile. “He’s a good boy. He does what his mama tells him to do.”
Paprika and Caledonia walked into the diner, bringing a blast of hot air in with them.
“Is it hot enough for y’all?” one of the old men at the counter said with a smile.
“I’ll tell you what, Clive,” another old man said. “It’s hotter than a spanked baby’s butt.”
“It is that, you old fools,” said Paprika.
Slick called out from the kitchen, “If you think it’s hot out there, you should come slave over a hot stove all day. Then you’ll know hot. It’s hotter than five fat old biddies in an Escort back here.”
“Don’t you worry, Chef,” Caledonia called out good-naturedly, “we won’t order anything . . . ” her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened as she spotted her husband dining with a woman near the back of the diner. It didn’t appear he had seen his wife come in. He and the woman looked to be deep in conversation.
Paprika’s eyes followed Caledonia’s. When she saw the problem, she finished her
“What else am I supposed to think? He doesn’t pay a lick of attention to me. I can’t remember the last time he even touched me beyond the obligatory peck goodbye.” Caledonia swept her long blonde hair behind her back.
“He never has been the romantic type though, has he?”
“Well, no. He was before we got married. He was romantic and affectionate. Then we got married, and I guess he figured he’d bought the cow but realized he didn’t like milk.” She slumped back in her chair.
“Oh, you . . .” Paprika gently touched Caledonia’s arm.
“I tell you one thing. I know now what Elvis was talking about.”
“What do you mean?” Paprika’s brow wrinkled.
“I feel so lonesome I could die.” Caledonia’s eyes met her best friend’s, and Paprika could see the hurt in them.
“I think it’s ‘so lonesome I could cry ,’” Paprika gently corrected.
“Well I could do that too.” Caledonia propped her arm on the table and dropped her chin into her hand.
“Oh, honey,” Paprika soothed.
“The few times we discussed it, if you could call it a discussion, Phil made it clear I was expecting too much. He said I wanted to live in a romance novel. He said I have it all: kids, a big house, I don’t have to work, I can buy most anything I want . . . ” Her voice trailed off.
“But what good is all that if you don’t have love and affection? If you don’t have genuine companionship?” Paprika said quietly. “You need someone to watch your back.”
“You know, I think if I stood naked in front of the TV, Philetus would tell me I was blocking his view. The only time he notices me is when his laundry isn’t done or his toilet isn’t cleaned.”
“Now you are bumming, aren’t you, sugar? Tell you what do,” Paprika said in her best Southern diction, “why don’t you bake up some of your famous chocolate chip cookies and Oreo fudge brownies and take some to his office. You could surprise him. He’ll love you to pieces for it.”
“You think?”
“I do. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, that’s what my mama always said.” She paused for several seconds and gave Caledonia a mischievous look. “Or through his chest with a shotgun.”
Caledonia laughed. “Did your mama say that?”
“No, I said that.” Paprika smiled sweetly.
“I don’t know.” Caledonia slumped into her chair. “I’m kind of tired of trying anymore. I’m thinking I should have just gone into Louis P. Howe’s law office instead of buying that dress.”
“California, you stop all that negative talk right this minute,” Paprika cried.
“I’d rather be a Carolina than a California.”
“Too bad. California sounds more like Caledonia, and besides, you of all people should know you can’t pick your own nickname.” She stood. “Tell you what. You think Pickle would mind the kids while you and I treated ourselves to a girly lunch?”
Caledonia’s face broke into a smile. “He’s a good boy. He does what his mama tells him to do.”
Paprika and Caledonia walked into the diner, bringing a blast of hot air in with them.
“Is it hot enough for y’all?” one of the old men at the counter said with a smile.
“I’ll tell you what, Clive,” another old man said. “It’s hotter than a spanked baby’s butt.”
“It is that, you old fools,” said Paprika.
Slick called out from the kitchen, “If you think it’s hot out there, you should come slave over a hot stove all day. Then you’ll know hot. It’s hotter than five fat old biddies in an Escort back here.”
“Don’t you worry, Chef,” Caledonia called out good-naturedly, “we won’t order anything . . . ” her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened as she spotted her husband dining with a woman near the back of the diner. It didn’t appear he had seen his wife come in. He and the woman looked to be deep in conversation.
Paprika’s eyes followed Caledonia’s. When she saw the problem, she finished her
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