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Who is that young brunette? Is David whispering in her ear? Janet rushes outside, gasping and gulping in the frosty air, and sees the dark clouds unfurl from the bright full moon. She walks over to it for a closer look. A few minutes later, Janet slowly opens the front door, and notices David and the brunette have disappeared. Conversations are suddenly being hushed among the now-tipsy and giggling party-goers, who huddle together, not acknowledging her entrance, and avoiding eye contact with her.
She walks over to the dessert table, slices herself a large piece of pie, and releases the belly she has been sucking in all night as she walks to a chair in the corner, and sits down alone.
As she takes her first enormous bite of delicious cream pie, Janet closes her eyes, and visualizes the large stone now hiding in the trunk of their car. Her next chapbook is slated to launch in spring by Finishing Line Press. In addition to writing and reading constantly, she works full-time with high school students with special needs.
That night, she would slice the berries directly into our bowls at the table, her turquoise mood ring catching the light. Even dulled by gin, my mother sparkled. We sprinkled heaping spoonfuls of sugar over the berries before passing around a carton of heavy cream. He always thought he was right. My husband preferred strawberries pulled from the plant and devoured on the spot with no adornments, warm from the sun, their green leafy tops tossed into the soil to fertilize the next crop.
