It was cold outside. Mid January in the prairies: freezing snow being pelted into your face by freezing wind. Even though I’d long been out of the wind and snow I couldn’t quite get rid of the chill that had settled deep in my bones. And though I attributed my discomfort to the weather, I wondered if it wasn’t in part due to the strange conversation I’d had with Cynthia earlier that day. Did she really expect me to find someone willing to carry her child? I mean what was I supposed to do, just visit SurrogatesRus.com and order them a uterus to house their child? Did she honestly think it was that simple? And even if it were, the thought of her and Horrace being parents seemed a little… a little unusual for lack of a better way of putting it. More than unusual, it seemed downright disturbing. But then I wondered, perhaps Cynthia was driven to her insane work schedule and standoffish demeanor by her inability to become a mother. Perhaps her failure in one aspect of her life had left with her with a desire to overachieve in her career. Perhaps all of these things that made her seem so cold and aloof were really just manifestations of her vulnerability.
Or perhaps she was just a bitch. Perhaps I was over thinking this. Hard to say which. Either way, though, it seemed a rather ridiculous proposition. And though I commanded myself to just do as she asked and put those thoughts to rest, they seemed to keep on turning up. So I found myself up late that night drinking tea and wearing my favorite terry cloth bath robe online searching for information on surrogacy in Canada.
I walked into the office the next day, tired, but successful in my mission. Though I didn’t have actual names of potential candidates, I had the numbers of several agencies, which would at least be a starting place for Cynthia. But even as I handed her the portfolio of the various agencies, I realized that somewhere amidst my tossing and turning last night, the idea had taken hold. It had implanted itself somewhere, somehow, deep inside my brain. And I couldn’t help but think to myself: what’s forty weeks? Forty weeks and I could, potentially, be debt free once again. Forty weeks and I could give someone else the joy, the miracle, of a new life. Forty weeks, in the scheme of things, was really not that long. I’d gone to school for four years, some 208 weeks, carrying around heavy ass text books to which a six or seven pound baby paled in comparison. And labor? These days alls you had to do was get an epidural and it was all smooth sailing after that.
I gave her the file, and she perused it without even once looking at me. I debated about whether I should bring up the whole idea or just wait a little while. When she was done flipping through the pages she gave me a dismissive nod and said “thank you” while tucking the file into a drawer. It was hard to say if she was pleased or not. I almost lost my nerve. I mean, why should I be doing her any favors? I had my fingers on the doorknob when I turned around and began to speak.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Bad Day
Yesterday my friend arrived. I don't know why they call it that. Friend?? More like enemy. Arch nemesis. But what can you do?? It's just so frustrating, especially when I work in a clinic where it seems every crack smoking whore can get pregnant, but I can't. Perhaps I should start shooting meth. Argh.
But at the same time, there is a small amount of relief in knowing. I think the worst thing is not knowing if your pregnant or not, trying not to get your hopes up but at the same time avoiding alcohol and caffeine 'just in case'. So at least I know. I'm going to go out tonight with my husband and sister in law and brother. And believe you me, there will be no avoiding of alcohol or caffeine. Hopefully, this will be last month of drinking. I know its only been two months of trying (one, really), but I honestly don't think we'll try for much longer. As it stands now Gage will be ten before this hypothetical baby is born. Payton will be three and a half. We need to finish our family soon. I don't want to have another one once Payton is already four and in playschool and somewhat independent. The whole idea of having another one was to have it really close to Payton so that they could grow up together, share a room, etc. But that gap is widening and widening.
Yesterday I went on IVillage, and when I logged on it said "Hello Randine. You are thirty weeks pregnant", because I had entered my due date and that on there when I was pregnant with Reid. I obviously hadn't been back on there since I lost him. It made me so mad. I was like "I should be having this baby in ten weeks! Not sitting here doing pregnancy test after pregnancy test, all of which are negative, at best a 'weak positive'.
But such is life. Oh well. And the worst part is that I now have another month of cleaning kitty litter. At least.
And as if that wasn't enough. The damn Brick called last night. Our boxspring came in but the matress is still on back order until Wednesday. I'm beginning to think this so called bed doesn't exist. Anyways, I shall go now.
Cue "Bad Day" by Daniel Powder.
And fade to black.
But at the same time, there is a small amount of relief in knowing. I think the worst thing is not knowing if your pregnant or not, trying not to get your hopes up but at the same time avoiding alcohol and caffeine 'just in case'. So at least I know. I'm going to go out tonight with my husband and sister in law and brother. And believe you me, there will be no avoiding of alcohol or caffeine. Hopefully, this will be last month of drinking. I know its only been two months of trying (one, really), but I honestly don't think we'll try for much longer. As it stands now Gage will be ten before this hypothetical baby is born. Payton will be three and a half. We need to finish our family soon. I don't want to have another one once Payton is already four and in playschool and somewhat independent. The whole idea of having another one was to have it really close to Payton so that they could grow up together, share a room, etc. But that gap is widening and widening.
Yesterday I went on IVillage, and when I logged on it said "Hello Randine. You are thirty weeks pregnant", because I had entered my due date and that on there when I was pregnant with Reid. I obviously hadn't been back on there since I lost him. It made me so mad. I was like "I should be having this baby in ten weeks! Not sitting here doing pregnancy test after pregnancy test, all of which are negative, at best a 'weak positive'.
But such is life. Oh well. And the worst part is that I now have another month of cleaning kitty litter. At least.
And as if that wasn't enough. The damn Brick called last night. Our boxspring came in but the matress is still on back order until Wednesday. I'm beginning to think this so called bed doesn't exist. Anyways, I shall go now.
Cue "Bad Day" by Daniel Powder.
And fade to black.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
HGP4/5
Here is the next installment of my book.
PS-- the dog and I had a much better night last night. He slept really good and only woke up once to go potty. Thanks for all of your encouragement and support (ie-- does Petland have a refund policy?))
The office was closed for two weeks in December. I wasn’t particularly keen on going back to work after two weeks of relaxing, but there I was on Tuesday morning, in the office of perpetual curry, reading my emails and sipping my Vendi Latte. Our relationship with Starbucks was symbiotic: it seemed apparent that Gem Stones would crash and burn without a constant infusion of caffeine and sugar, but it was also true that Starbucks would not be staying afloat, much less thriving, without us and our little vice.
Shortly before noon I walked down the hall to her office, where I had intended on reviewing with her some of the financial documents she had requested from the last quarter. Only to be informed by her secretary, a plump lady named Delores that Cynthia was out of the office.
“Out of the office?” I asked, incredulous. Had there been some sort of a natural disaster? She was never out of the office. Not on weekends, not on holidays.
“Out of the office.” Delores repeated, typing up a document.
“When will she be in?” I asked, expecting to be informed that she was out on a lunch date or some such thing, and would be in shortly. But that was not the case.
“I don’t know when she’s planning on returning,” Delores replied curtly.
“But these documents,” I protested, shoving them under her nose.
“They’ll just have to wait,” she said, shoving them back to me.
“O-K,” I said, turning around, more than a little annoyed. Never mind that I worked my ass off over the last few days, which were supposed to be my holidays, to prepare them. She said she wanted them ‘hand delivered’ first thing in the morning. And then, conveniently, she isn’t here. Just freaking lovely.
A week later she returned to the office, pale and even more gaunt looking than before, which I had hereto now thought utterly impossible. I was summoned to her office to deliver the reports, and after waiting only half an hour in her ‘antechamber’ (half an hour! Today was my lucky day) Delores finally led me to the inner chamber.
She was sitting behind the desk, dragging on a cigarette. Though it was supposed to be forbidden in this building, she was the CEO so what was I going to say? Her eyes were sunken, with dark circles under them. Her size two power suit seemed too big on her frame. She looked, behind that grand mahogany desk, like a child playing dress up. Minus the cigarette, of course.
I handed over the documents wordlessly. Obviously, she was in a dark mood. Now was not the time for chit chat.
She gave them a cursory glance and then, passing them back to me, instructed me to fax them to the accountant.
That was it? That was had me in a frenzy the last few days of my vacation? God damn her.
“Have you any experience in management?” she asked, right before I was going to leave.
“Management, uh, well, no. Not really,” I answered, totally caught off guard. What kind of a question is that supposed to be? Why in the name of God would I be working here making a very modest income if I had management experience? Was she going to promote me? Was that what this meeting was really about? And there I was, wearing a red turtle neck sweater with a pair of Old Navy khakis and scuffed shoes. The best look I could pull off given my scarce budget, and the fact that I had no idea that I would be having this watershed conversation with her today. No idea, in fact, that I would even encounter her at all today. Her return to work was unexpected to say the least. There were rumors that the company was going under. Rumors that she had been embezzling money into an offshore account and was now living in the Cayman somewhere, sipping on some non alcoholic drink while our paychecks bounced left right and center. And then, all of a sudden there she was. With the usual clipped remarks and hassled expression. It was as though she hadn’t been gone at all.
“I’m thinking about taking a break,” she began.
“A break?” I asked, guffawed. Was this the same woman?
“Do I stutter?” she asked, blowing a cloud of blue smoke into my face. Okay, no, this was the same woman. Clearly.
“No, sorry. I, I guess I’m just surprised to hear you say that,” I answered.
“I suppose you are. But to be honest, Kristina, things are not going well at home for me,” she began tentatively.
Oh no. Oh no. I so do not want to be having this conversation. I mean, what could I possibly be expected to say to a woman who had previously told me not to discuss personal matters with her.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all I could say. I certainly didn’t want to pry. Perhaps this whole pregnancy thing was unplanned. I knew she didn’t have a maternal bone in her Burns-esque body!
“As is everyone. The truth is Kristina, that Horrace and I… well for some years now we have been trying to have a child. But it seems that that is not to be,” she said, lighting another cigarette while simultaneously butting the other one.
“Oh, Geez. That’s very… sad news,” I said. Why is she telling me this? Did she think that we had struck some kind of a bond at that dreadful party? This was so uncomfortable. I pulled at the neck of my turtleneck, which suddenly seemed very itchy, though it was made of cotton, not wool.
“Yes, sad indeed. Anyways, Horrace and I are looking into some alternative methods of procuring a child, and we now have our heart set on surrogacy. It seems the fastest route to go. And the child can still be our biologically. And we certainly have the financial wherewithal to pay for any legal expenses,” she said.
Procuring a child? She was taking about it like it was akin to acquiring some exotic new vaccine.
“Certainly,” I agreed.
“Precisely. Research this for me. Discreetly. Put me in touch with any and all available candidates. Have a report ready for me by mid afternoon tomorrow. If we can work together on this, shall we say, project, there could be some incentive for you in the future.”
And that was how it began.
PS-- the dog and I had a much better night last night. He slept really good and only woke up once to go potty. Thanks for all of your encouragement and support (ie-- does Petland have a refund policy?))
The office was closed for two weeks in December. I wasn’t particularly keen on going back to work after two weeks of relaxing, but there I was on Tuesday morning, in the office of perpetual curry, reading my emails and sipping my Vendi Latte. Our relationship with Starbucks was symbiotic: it seemed apparent that Gem Stones would crash and burn without a constant infusion of caffeine and sugar, but it was also true that Starbucks would not be staying afloat, much less thriving, without us and our little vice.
Shortly before noon I walked down the hall to her office, where I had intended on reviewing with her some of the financial documents she had requested from the last quarter. Only to be informed by her secretary, a plump lady named Delores that Cynthia was out of the office.
“Out of the office?” I asked, incredulous. Had there been some sort of a natural disaster? She was never out of the office. Not on weekends, not on holidays.
“Out of the office.” Delores repeated, typing up a document.
“When will she be in?” I asked, expecting to be informed that she was out on a lunch date or some such thing, and would be in shortly. But that was not the case.
“I don’t know when she’s planning on returning,” Delores replied curtly.
“But these documents,” I protested, shoving them under her nose.
“They’ll just have to wait,” she said, shoving them back to me.
“O-K,” I said, turning around, more than a little annoyed. Never mind that I worked my ass off over the last few days, which were supposed to be my holidays, to prepare them. She said she wanted them ‘hand delivered’ first thing in the morning. And then, conveniently, she isn’t here. Just freaking lovely.
A week later she returned to the office, pale and even more gaunt looking than before, which I had hereto now thought utterly impossible. I was summoned to her office to deliver the reports, and after waiting only half an hour in her ‘antechamber’ (half an hour! Today was my lucky day) Delores finally led me to the inner chamber.
She was sitting behind the desk, dragging on a cigarette. Though it was supposed to be forbidden in this building, she was the CEO so what was I going to say? Her eyes were sunken, with dark circles under them. Her size two power suit seemed too big on her frame. She looked, behind that grand mahogany desk, like a child playing dress up. Minus the cigarette, of course.
I handed over the documents wordlessly. Obviously, she was in a dark mood. Now was not the time for chit chat.
She gave them a cursory glance and then, passing them back to me, instructed me to fax them to the accountant.
That was it? That was had me in a frenzy the last few days of my vacation? God damn her.
“Have you any experience in management?” she asked, right before I was going to leave.
“Management, uh, well, no. Not really,” I answered, totally caught off guard. What kind of a question is that supposed to be? Why in the name of God would I be working here making a very modest income if I had management experience? Was she going to promote me? Was that what this meeting was really about? And there I was, wearing a red turtle neck sweater with a pair of Old Navy khakis and scuffed shoes. The best look I could pull off given my scarce budget, and the fact that I had no idea that I would be having this watershed conversation with her today. No idea, in fact, that I would even encounter her at all today. Her return to work was unexpected to say the least. There were rumors that the company was going under. Rumors that she had been embezzling money into an offshore account and was now living in the Cayman somewhere, sipping on some non alcoholic drink while our paychecks bounced left right and center. And then, all of a sudden there she was. With the usual clipped remarks and hassled expression. It was as though she hadn’t been gone at all.
“I’m thinking about taking a break,” she began.
“A break?” I asked, guffawed. Was this the same woman?
“Do I stutter?” she asked, blowing a cloud of blue smoke into my face. Okay, no, this was the same woman. Clearly.
“No, sorry. I, I guess I’m just surprised to hear you say that,” I answered.
“I suppose you are. But to be honest, Kristina, things are not going well at home for me,” she began tentatively.
Oh no. Oh no. I so do not want to be having this conversation. I mean, what could I possibly be expected to say to a woman who had previously told me not to discuss personal matters with her.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all I could say. I certainly didn’t want to pry. Perhaps this whole pregnancy thing was unplanned. I knew she didn’t have a maternal bone in her Burns-esque body!
“As is everyone. The truth is Kristina, that Horrace and I… well for some years now we have been trying to have a child. But it seems that that is not to be,” she said, lighting another cigarette while simultaneously butting the other one.
“Oh, Geez. That’s very… sad news,” I said. Why is she telling me this? Did she think that we had struck some kind of a bond at that dreadful party? This was so uncomfortable. I pulled at the neck of my turtleneck, which suddenly seemed very itchy, though it was made of cotton, not wool.
“Yes, sad indeed. Anyways, Horrace and I are looking into some alternative methods of procuring a child, and we now have our heart set on surrogacy. It seems the fastest route to go. And the child can still be our biologically. And we certainly have the financial wherewithal to pay for any legal expenses,” she said.
Procuring a child? She was taking about it like it was akin to acquiring some exotic new vaccine.
“Certainly,” I agreed.
“Precisely. Research this for me. Discreetly. Put me in touch with any and all available candidates. Have a report ready for me by mid afternoon tomorrow. If we can work together on this, shall we say, project, there could be some incentive for you in the future.”
And that was how it began.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Sleepless in Seattle
Well, here we are. The first day down of my greuling three day work week. Yesterday, as you know, was a holiday. I took Friday off so that I could go to the lake this weekend for some much needed R&R. I am very much looking forward to that and will thank my parents in advance for their willingness to babysit.
Last night was a long night. Baxter, in his short time here, has grown to love us very much. So much that, in fact, the mere idea of us sleeping three feet away from him in a bed is very, very distressing to him. We put his kennel in our room. He cried at first, but then, he usually does and he usually quits after about ten minutes or so. Not the case last night. He carried on for quite some time. And then, when the crying stopped, we breathed a sigh of relief. Only to find out that the worst was yet to come. After the crying he went into this kind of low pitched howl. It was then that I moved his kennel into the kitchen. This proceeded for quite some time. Eventually it stopped. Only to be replaced by a high pitched howl. It was at this point that I moved his kennel into the basement. This was at about five am. I had slept nary a wink and was all too aware that the alarm clock was going to go off all too soon. When Gage (who, by the by, sleeps in the basement) woke up this morning he said that his ears hurt from plugging them all night long so hard. It would have been sad if I had the energy to feel sorry for him. So I'm not sure what we'll do tonight. If he's like that again I think we may end up with two dogs in bed with us. Poor Geoff, who never wanted this dog in the first place, was the first to say 'maybe we'd be better off if we let him sleep with us'. It would be funny in an ironic sort of way if only I had the energy to laugh.
So that's that. Never buy a dog on impulse. Just fight the urge. Not to mention the fact that I had to get up and take him outside at two, four and six o'clock. I keep telling myself that he'll be a lot better in a month or even in a few weeks. I can only hope.
And on to other news. I did another pregnancy test today and it was more of the same-- weak positive. I'll just test again on Thursday. Fun fact about HcG: it doubles every forty hours for the first ten weeks of pregnancy, at which point it stabilizes. So that is all for now. I shall go to bed and I pray to God that I can get some sleep tonight. Peace out.
Last night was a long night. Baxter, in his short time here, has grown to love us very much. So much that, in fact, the mere idea of us sleeping three feet away from him in a bed is very, very distressing to him. We put his kennel in our room. He cried at first, but then, he usually does and he usually quits after about ten minutes or so. Not the case last night. He carried on for quite some time. And then, when the crying stopped, we breathed a sigh of relief. Only to find out that the worst was yet to come. After the crying he went into this kind of low pitched howl. It was then that I moved his kennel into the kitchen. This proceeded for quite some time. Eventually it stopped. Only to be replaced by a high pitched howl. It was at this point that I moved his kennel into the basement. This was at about five am. I had slept nary a wink and was all too aware that the alarm clock was going to go off all too soon. When Gage (who, by the by, sleeps in the basement) woke up this morning he said that his ears hurt from plugging them all night long so hard. It would have been sad if I had the energy to feel sorry for him. So I'm not sure what we'll do tonight. If he's like that again I think we may end up with two dogs in bed with us. Poor Geoff, who never wanted this dog in the first place, was the first to say 'maybe we'd be better off if we let him sleep with us'. It would be funny in an ironic sort of way if only I had the energy to laugh.
So that's that. Never buy a dog on impulse. Just fight the urge. Not to mention the fact that I had to get up and take him outside at two, four and six o'clock. I keep telling myself that he'll be a lot better in a month or even in a few weeks. I can only hope.
And on to other news. I did another pregnancy test today and it was more of the same-- weak positive. I'll just test again on Thursday. Fun fact about HcG: it doubles every forty hours for the first ten weeks of pregnancy, at which point it stabilizes. So that is all for now. I shall go to bed and I pray to God that I can get some sleep tonight. Peace out.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Just call me Shleprock
For those of you wondering, the reference to Shleprock apparently dates to a nintey seventy something SNL episode (back in the day when the show was actually funny and when we as a society were not too lazy to abbreviate Saturday Night Live to SNL). Being WAY before my time, I never saw such episode. But apparently, the character was this fellow named Schleprock and everywhere he went a rain cloud was overtop of him, dousing him in rain 24/7. Anyways, I guess my dad used to joke with my uncle that they were the Schleprock brothers. It seems as though they have passed that trait down to the next generation.
I phoned the Brick today. And you absolutely won't believe this. Another delay. Shocking. Apparently, it should be in within a week or so, heavy emphasis on the word should. Its just so frustrating. If they would have told me at the outset that it was going to take this freaking long I would have just went somewhere else.
And my baby Payto has been sick. I had to take her to Emerg last night. She was running a fever. She was pale. Her lips were just cracked and dry. She was lethargic, barely more than waking up all day. But they tested her urine and did a throat swab. Nothing came back positive. So they say its just a virus that will run its course. She actually seems a bit better now.
And that cute little dog is wreaking havoc on this house. He barks a lot. He's crazy. He bites and chews. Even baby Paytons hands are all bloody now. We all have blood on our hands.
So, all in all, between the cleaning up dog doo, feeding jello to an inconsolable child and having my feet chewed to shit, it has not been a great weekend. The phone call with the Brick was just the icing on the cake. Call me Shleprock.
To cheer you up, I will attach a picture of my Payton (feeling a bit better and sporting her new sunglasses which she's quite fond of wearing, though I personally, have seen no sun). I will also attach a picture of the Bodylogic 3000, my new bed which should be coming any day now, theoretically. Perhaps by the time the kids go to college!!!
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Meet the new addition!!!
ITS A BOY!! Weighing in at three pounds, we took our new baby home yesterday. We weren't really planning on getting another dog. I took the kids to Petland to look at the dogs. Payton loves going there. She gets so excited. And we saw this little fella. He's a Pug/Boston Terrier cross. As soon as I saw him I just fell in love. We asked the 'pet counsellor' if we could hold him. He was so happy to get out of his little cage, he was going wild kissing us and wagging his tail. And I just had to have him. Just look at that little face. I was actually going to just bring him home and surprise Geoff, but then I thought he might be a tad bit angry. Escpecially when he sees the price tag. ($1088.00). So I came home, begged and pleaded until he finally relented. So now we have a new puppy.Unfortunately, I've forgotten what it's like having a new puppy. He chews everything. My hands are bloody. I had to get up at 3:30 this morning to take him outside. He sniffed every possible surface before finally choosing a spot to do his business. He's not getting along with the other animals. They hate him. We have to watch him every second so he doesn't get killed, because he doesn't realize that he's smaller than they are, he lips off to them, barking and such. But, just look at that face. They say that once out of being a puppy, he'll be a really good, low maintenance dog. They don't need much exercise, are pretty sedentary, will reach a maximum weight of fifteen pounds, and need virtually no grooming. He also loves the kids. His little tail just wags when they're around. And he can really get Payton going, giggling and giggling. So I think it will work out fine. I just hope that the kids didn't have their heart set on college. There's nothing wrong with being a janitor. It's a very noble living. Besides, law school is such a bore. We'll all be much happier this way. Right??
Friday, February 16, 2007
HGP3
After composing myself, I muttered my congratulations, which were not received very well either. She took a long drink of her ice water, and then regarded me with an icy gaze. “I do not wish to discuss such personal matters any further.”
To which I nodded my understanding, though inside I was seething with anger and frustration. Why? Why did she insist we come to these functions so that we could ‘get to know one another’ when we are not permitted to discuss personal matters? What were we supposed to do? Sit there and stare at each other?
And though it seemed that things could not get any worse at that point, they did.
“So, Krissy, tell us about the wedding,” Constance said, apparently wanting to change the subject, a look of hopeful expectation on her face. Goes to show how close we are. The wedding was scheduled to take place four months ago.
“Well, it, uhm, was cancelled, we uh, didn’t exactly see eye to eye.” On the issues of faithfulness and monogamy, I added to myself.
“Didn’t see eye to eye? Well, by God, my dear girl. Do you think that anyone in this whole country would be married if they waited until they ‘saw eye to eye’? Marriage is all about compromise,” Horrace said with a laugh. I looked at my Chardonnay with longing. Damn you for being so close yet so far away. I wondered vaguely how much compromise there really was in the Jacobson marriage but suppressed the thought.
“Yes, I suppose,” I answered flippantly, not really wanting to get into the details. And that was pretty much the end of that. There was no more conversation: just a few strained words here and there. We ate our meals quickly and quietly, and immediately afterwards I excused myself. Never to return again.
To which I nodded my understanding, though inside I was seething with anger and frustration. Why? Why did she insist we come to these functions so that we could ‘get to know one another’ when we are not permitted to discuss personal matters? What were we supposed to do? Sit there and stare at each other?
And though it seemed that things could not get any worse at that point, they did.
“So, Krissy, tell us about the wedding,” Constance said, apparently wanting to change the subject, a look of hopeful expectation on her face. Goes to show how close we are. The wedding was scheduled to take place four months ago.
“Well, it, uhm, was cancelled, we uh, didn’t exactly see eye to eye.” On the issues of faithfulness and monogamy, I added to myself.
“Didn’t see eye to eye? Well, by God, my dear girl. Do you think that anyone in this whole country would be married if they waited until they ‘saw eye to eye’? Marriage is all about compromise,” Horrace said with a laugh. I looked at my Chardonnay with longing. Damn you for being so close yet so far away. I wondered vaguely how much compromise there really was in the Jacobson marriage but suppressed the thought.
“Yes, I suppose,” I answered flippantly, not really wanting to get into the details. And that was pretty much the end of that. There was no more conversation: just a few strained words here and there. We ate our meals quickly and quietly, and immediately afterwards I excused myself. Never to return again.
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