I opened a couple bottles of Molson, set one at each of our places and sat at my usual spot.“Mrs Claus thanks us for the suggestion,” I said regarding my phone. “She wants to know if you saw her note about Christmas Eve.”“Tell her my phone has been on the charger and I’ll look at it after dinner.”“She says, okay.” I sampled her stir-fry. “This is really good, Andie.”“It goes together fast -- cooking the rice takes the longest.”“You could serve it over some Asian style noodles,” I suggested. “Those would cook faster.”“That’s a good suggestion.”After dinner we sat in the front room with the television on. Andrea rocked the cradle with her toe while manipulating her phone. “Mrs Claus wants to have another family gathering on Christmas Eve at her place -- a pot luck buffet.” She rolled her eyes. “We just saw your whole family for Thanksgiving.”“I think Mrs Claus wants to show off her new grandchild,” I replied.“Most likely. Do we have to?”“I think she would be deeply disappointed if we. But in this particular case, Joe fell straight down. His knees sort of splayed apart, and his legs twisted him around half a turn. His butt hit his heels, he bounced back up a little, and he toppled left onto his back, his head hitting the floor hard. I looked down on him dispassionately, observing the puddle growing steadily underneath his sprawled, limp body; and several disturbing thoughts ran through my head. I’m not sure why, but as I thought them, I walked calmly toward the bathroom, the gun clutched in my right hand.One: Why the hell had I pulled the trigger? I hadn’t meant to, certainly. Had I? I mean, I couldn’t deny the amount of hatred I had toward the man ... probably more than I’d ever felt toward any other person. And, don’t get me wrong ... I have hated before. There was a man who, five or six years before, had stolen a woman away that I loved dearly. Well ... that’s not quite accurate. Actually, it was I who was trying to steal the woman away from him. But that’s.
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