Buttercup

I sat exhausted, sipping on wine and scanning recent pics for a thread to lay itself bare. Sometimes there are no threads. So I sat to write a letter to my wife’s lawyer. I kept it cold and private. All the while it swirled with a surreal quality. My ex-wife maintains a distance of an ex-wife’s necessity; the lawyer crafts his language with a lawyer’s cadence; I resist the urge to lay myself bare - All of it hostile in its self righteous accord - all of it trash. I wrapped it up and met Butter at the bar.

Her soft eyes and milky skin met mine with a hesitant ease. I’m used to it now. We drank and talked among friends and when enough liquor had numbed the hesitation we fucked in the girls bathroom. My cock was so hard it hurt and I nearly exploded just unzipping my pants but we made it through some initial thrusts, went at it hard for a few minutes and decided to continue later when we could lay together. I was exhausted and she was just starting which meant she needed to talk. I sat back and massaged my throat and stroked my beard thinking, “this is how a man gets run down and biblical plague sets in.” I looked into her eyes and felt her soft hands and wrists up to where the needle pierced the vein and a small dot remained.

“They’re gonna cut both of my eye lids. It will leave a scar.” Orbital tumor.
“Tell them to keep the cuts small. Talk to the surgeon.”
“They know. He already says my skin is perfect for healing. They’ll make the cut on the crease in my lids.”
“Yea.”
“Yea.”
“You know, this may make me ugly. I mean this is some fucked up shit, I don’t know what is going to happen but I’m giving you the option to bail. I totally would not be offended if you wanted out. I’ll be in Canada for months.” I was offended with the thought of leaving.
“I don’t choose my friends for whether or not they get sick. It is what it is buttercup.”
“Yuck, that’s what my Dad says, it is what it is.”
I shrugged.
“Baby.”
“Let’s go doll.”
“I’m gonna get another drink. If you need to go, you can go. I know you’re travelling in the morning.”
I looked at her with raised eyebrows and a sideways smile. “OK. I’m out then.”
“No, stay.” Drunk.
“You’re selfish darlin’.” She knew it. Drunken behavior.
And it goes.