Paulette Smalls - Come and get it!

"It really bothers you, doesn't it," Val said, after the waiter had gone. She did not bother to look at her husband, but continued to read the menu. "The fact that I read over the entire menu before ordering really bothers you."

"It takes so damn long!" he protested, realizing how feeble the explanation seemed verbalized. For some reason he couldn't stand it when she did that. It just pissed him off. "It's annoying."

Although he couldn't read her passive expression, there was a quiver of tension in her carefully controlled voice.

"Well, unlike you, I enjoy experimenting with life and trying new things. I especially like to experiment with new foods. Whenever I have the opportunity to try something new, something exotic, I'm going to take it. And if that means reading through every menu I get before I order, then that's what I'm going to do. And if you don't like it, darling… well, that's just too bad."

Doug sipped his martini, refusing to let himself be drawn into another argument. The best way to handle it was to swallow his retort and, finally break the circular chain of bickering which would inevitably lead them directly into confrontation. This was certainly not the place for that, nor was it the day. He had a full afternoon of work ahead of him, and he would need a sound, clear head for that. He gulped his drink, his fingertips turning white as he gripped the glass.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked when Val finally placed the menu down at the side of their table.

"Yes. I'll have fish, I think."

Doug caught the waiter's attention, and they placed their orders. Doug ordered his usual: filet mignon, rare. He also ordered a second drink.

"Are you ready to talk now?" he asked.

"I think so," Valerie said, smiling, looking lovely in her shimmery green silken dress. "Are you ready to listen?"

Doug was instantly on the defensive. "Oh, is that how it's supposed to be? You do the talking and I do the listening?"

"Yes, that's exactly how it's going to be this time," Val said, her voice soft, yet quite forceful. Despite his objections, it commanded his attention. "This time I'm going to tell you how it's going to be, and what we're going to do. And if you don't like it, you're free to divorce me. We're heading in that direction anyhow. One of us has got to try and do something to stop it."

The realization sobered Doug. "Have things gotten that bad, Val? Are we really talking about divorce?"

She nodded her head. Her voice was sad and resigned. "I can't stand fighting any more, Doug. That's all we do. It's like living in a war zone, always tense, always on the defensive, waiting for the next assault." She shook her head. "I can't take it any longer. It's wearing me out until all I want to do is escape… get away from it. I can't live like this anymore. Thins are either going to change… or I'm leaving."

"This is not a bluff, is it? You're serious."

"Absolutely serious."

Doug exhaled. "All right, I'll listen."

Now that she had his attention, Val felt suddenly nervous, knowing as she did what she must say next. As always, when she was under pressure, the craving for a cigarette, the need to have something to do with her hands, was impossible to resist, and she felt betrayed when she realized she had already opened her purse and was rummaging through it. Defiantly she pulled out a fresh pack, opened it, and fumbled with the tightly packed cigarettes until she pulled one out, holding it by the tips of her fingernails. She put it in her mouth, and Doug lit it. Silence hung heavily between them. She exhaled.

"We have to get a separation," Val said.

"No."

"Doug…"

"Absolutely no," he affirmed, his voice rising.

The slow, silent movement of Val's eyes, glancing at the various people sitting at nearby tables, was enough to silence Doug's protests. She crushed out her cigarette with a grinding twist of her fingers.

"A separation, Doug," she said, the note of finality ringing loud and clear in her tone. "A trial one, as I'm trying to suggest, or a permanent one. At this point, that's the only choice you have to make."

He shook his head, dazed. "But I love you!"

"That's irrelevant. It's just as irrelevant as my telling you that I love you. So what? We still can't get along. Love has nothing to do with this."

"But Valerie…"

"You're not going to change my mind, so don't even try. I know what I must do. I've thought this out very carefully." While she spoke, her fingers moved restlessly across the table, arranging and rearranging the silverware. "If you would only let me tell you…"

"I'm sorry. Go ahead; I won't interrupt again."

"A separation," she continued, "in the form of separate vacations. Instead of us both going away together next month, we'll take separate vacations. I'll go somewhere by myself – Florida, maybe – and you can go wherever you want. No questions asked."

Doug looked up, and for a moment their eyes locked. A shiver went through him as he understood the full implications of Val's statement.

"Actually," Val said, her voice hedging nervously, "it will probably be very good for us… healthy for our marriage. We've been married six years, Doug – six years. It's about time that we've had a little break from each other."

"If you say so."

Val nodded firmly. "It will give us a chance to be completely on our own; give us the chance to think and work out our problems. It will help us to decide, Doug… decide if we want to stay married. What do you think?"

Doug shrugged helplessly. "Does it matter?"

Before Val had a chance to respond, the waiter reappeared with their food. They ate in silence.

"Put the bags on the bed."

Carrying two suitcases and an overnight bag, the bellboy managed to unlock the door without putting anything down. He hurried past Val into the room, dropping the luggage onto an enormous king-size mattress. Then he went around the bed and opened the curtain which completely covered the far wall. The curtain revealed a large double glass door, a balcony beyond, and a breathtaking view of a white sandy beach and the wide blue Atlantic Ocean beyond that. Bright clear Florida sunshine slashed in, giving the room a false cheeriness.

"The air conditioner and controls," the bellboy said, pointing, his voice lilting with a noticeable Spanish accent, "are over there, on the wall."

He walked back past Val again, toward the door. On the right side of the room there was another door, leading into the bathroom. He opened the door, leaned in and switched on the light.

"Will that be all?" he asked.

"Yes." As he turned to leave, Val called out. "Wait. There is something else."

He turned back toward Val expectantly, his dark, deep eyes glistening with awareness. Long black wavy hair framed his young, handsome face. The grin which wrinkled his thick, sensual lips was lopsided, purposely sexy, she guessed, revealing strong white teeth. She judged him to be in his early twenties, but maybe he was younger.

"Yes?" he asked.

"What is your name?"

"Luis."

"Here, Luis, this is for you." She handed him a five dollar tip. "Thank you."

His eyes glistened when he saw the money, and the grin widened into a genuinely pleased smile. He nodded firmly to Val.

"Thank you very much, Miss."

"That's Mrs. I'm married."

"Oh. Well, thank you very much, Mrs.," he continued to thank her, even as she led him to the door and urged him out into the hallway. "If you need anything, Mrs., you just call for Luis."

"Thank you." Val closed the door.

The room was a long, wide rectangle, the sliding glass doors and view of the ocean at one end, the door to the hotel room at the other end. On the floor was a thick shag rug, bright ornate, matching the orange and brown curtains which covered the far wall. The huge bed was the central object on the left side of the room, taking up most of the wall. Flanking it on both sides were two end tables with unmatched lamps. Across from the bed was a wall of dressers, all low and modern, except for the last piece which had a mirror. There was a television on one of the dressers, and Val switched it on. Color.