CHAPTER 59
Lary wakes up on the sofa, a cat on her head, and a dog on her feet. It’s now two weeks since Roger had revealed his wonderful news. The evening before, she and Pumpkin had gaily waved him off in his driveway before the limo took him to the airport for his divorce trip to the Dominican Republic.
Across her living room stands her new fake Christmas tree bought impulsively on her way home from shopping the other day. She had assembled it at two in the morning. It poses now in all its decorated glory, listing to the right.
Dried red wine splotches across the new beige carpet, bought to impress one Señor Manuel José Garcia de Ortega. A trail of chocolate brownie crumbs encircles the tree. ‘Tis the season to be jolly.
“Well, I jolly well better get off my fat ass then,” she tells
