Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cJQpt-0001TU-B0 for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Tue, 20 Dec 2016 12:16:33 -0800 Received: from [69.162.73.135] (port=38948 helo=pullsmeup.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cJQpo-0001Sd-L2 for lojban@lojban.org; Tue, 20 Dec 2016 12:16:32 -0800 Date: Tue, 20 Dec 2016 13:39:03 -0700 Message-ID: <169c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed.2673943-c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeedplojban@lojban.org.1> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Mime-Version: 1 From: "Cynthia Harrison" Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Subject: Play to win 300K this Christmas weekend: 1124237 To: X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / the only chance youll have

for ter breakfasts, steelcut stuff that took forty minutes to cook, and cow coffee with an egg, which was something Michael actually did like, though he didnt much like her method of letting the pot boil over onto the stove before she dumped the cup of cold water in to clear it. Michael said he expected that the boilingover bit worked better with a campfire, and couldnt she just grab the pot before it bubbled up and went all over everything? The answer was no, she couldnt seem to, though she always cleaned up her messes afterward. Zee filled a coffee mug with the KJ and started to recork the bottle. Then, seeing how little was left, she dumped the rest of the e into the mug. She carefully placed the bottle into the trash compactor, then flipped the switch, waiting for the pop and the smash. The bag was almost full, so she removed it and took it out to the deck, walking all the way back down the stairs in her bare feet, placing the compacted bottle into the bottom of the garbage bin, not with the recyclables, as she would have preferred, but with the regular trash, so that there would be no evidence of the bottle. It wasnt that Michael minded her drinking, but he definitely minded her drinking an oaky California chardonnay.

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She walked back up the stairs and ran a bath, letting the water get as hot as she could stand. She went to her closet and grabbed her ter bathrobe, a worn terrycloth thing shed stolen from some spa Michael had taken her to when they first met, which shed later felt guilty about and sent a check to the hotel to cover its cost. If this was going to be a snow day, then let it be a snow day, she thought. It certainly was cold enough in this house to imagine snow on the roof. She filled the tub as high as she could and slid into the water. She took one gulp of the e, then another, then finished the cup. When the falling feeling hit her, the slackening of muscles, a momentary release that came and went fast, she glided under the water, letting it into her ears, her mouth. She pushed her legs wide and let the heat fill her. As her head finally began to quiet, she forgot about Lilly, and the intimidating wedding planner, and Finch, and finally about Michael and the gnag feeling of guilt she felt most of the time now when she thought about the wedding and everything she was supposed to be getting done. ZEE DIDNT REALIZE THAT SHE had fallen asleep until she saw Michael standing above her in the bathroom. How long had it been? The water had gone cold, the sky outside was dark. She stood up and grabbed a towel. I didnt hear you come in, she said, wrapping herself in the terrycloth robe. He just stood there watching her, his expression difficult to read.

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She could tell he had something to say, something important from the look of things, but she wasnt ready to talk. Give me a minute, will you? Zee said, and Michael turned and walked out of the bathroom. She went to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of socks, so her feet wouldnt leave more prints on the wood floors. She put on a sweatshirt and jeans. She found him in the kitchen. He was eating a piece of salmon. She recognized the O Ya box. Whats all this? she asked him. Ive been calling you. You didnt answer either phone. Sorry, she said. Sorry seemed to be the word that started most of her sentences these days. The wedding planner quit, Michael said. But shes charging us six thousand dollars for her time. He held out the tray to her. I figure these are worth about half a grand apiece. She shook her head. She wasnt hungry. She felt a little sick. For that price she should have sent the sake, too, he said. She walked over and hugged him, holding on for longer than she wanted. He didnt return the embrace. Im sorry, she said. Ill pick up the expense. Its not about the expense, he said. She could see him considering before he continued. I have to ask you an important question, he finally said. What question? Do you not want to get married? His question caught her off guard. Why would you even ask me that? Come on, Zee. A long silence followed. The truth was, she didnt know. She didnt know if she didnt want to get married at all, or if she just hated the process. The big wedding was clearly something he wanted. She could count only about five people she would even invite. Maybe I just dont like the wedding planner. She knew that much was true, though it was all she seemed to know. She felt suddenly foolish for the snow day and guilty that shed made him feel bad.

Well, youve solved that problem, Id say. Oh, come on, she said. She reached into the box theyd sent over and pulled out a piece of sushi. She would take a bite, and then she would tell Michael how much she liked it and that she thought theyd found the perfect food for the wedding. Its really good, she said. Great, actually. She didnt have to lie. The phone rang. Zee didnt move to answer it. She could follow his thought process. Michael was a game theorist and as famous as Mattei in his own right. He was paid to predict what groups of people would do. As a result, Michael always seemed to know what she would do before she did it, even when (as was so often the case these days) she had no idea herself. Dont answer the phone, she thought. She didnt say it. It would have been stupid. And it would have been futile. As she stood there with him, she felt as if she were the one who was the game theorist. She knew exactly what he would do. Michael picked up the phone on the fifth ring. Yes? he said into the receiver. Zee could tell that it was Mattei. Then, so she continued to feel his earlier reprimand, he went on, No, evidently Zee does not answer her cell. He listened to Mattei for a moment, and then, at her direction, he walked over to the TV and flipped it on. What channel? he asked. Then he handed the phone to Zee.