Henry squirmed beneath the satin. “The radio?”
“Yes, the radio, then he read about you in the paper--” Elaine twisted her head towards her bedmate in the near-complete darkness. “Henry, you don’t--”
“No, I’d rather not know.”
“Where are you going?”
“The bathroom.” Henry shut the door behind himself and ran the faucet to cover the sound of his retching.
When he returned, Elaine was sitting up in the lamplight. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”
“No, not at all,” Henry told her. “Must’ve been that salmon we had for dinner.” He eased himself back under the covers and turned the light off, and then the two rested in the silence of the room for a full minute before he asked, “So what’s your husband like? Is he old?”
“Why do you ask that?” Pause. “Okay, he is old, but not too. Forty-five.”
“Old enough to be your father. No offense.”
“None taken, Henry,” Elaine replied in a sigh. “Yes, he’s old and overbearing and not too great in bed. At least not as great as some people.”
“Not to pry. Why’d you marry him?”
Elaine paused again, then held her enormous wedding ring over the covers. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, Henry.” Then, after staring at it for a long while, she slowly pulled the ring off and placed it on the nighttable.