The Penalty Box

The Penalty Box by Deirdre Martin Page B

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Authors: Deirdre Martin
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coaxed.
    â€œToo embarrassed.”
    â€œDon’t be silly, Katie. C’mon.”
    Katie reluctantly opened her eyes. Paul was sitting Indian-style on the grass, looking worried. “Are you okay? What just happened?”
    Katie averted her gaze. “I didn’t eat all day because I was so nervous about tonight, and then I sucked down three glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and voila! I turned into the fabulous new Tipsy Tillie doll! Just kiss her and she throws up on the grass! Batteries not included!”
    â€œOh, Katie.” He put his hand out but Katie rolled out of reach. “It’s okay. Really. But why were you nervous?”
    â€œBecause I was seeing you ,” she muttered.
    â€œI’m flattered,” Paul replied softly.
    â€œAnd I’m mortified.” She whipped off the scarf around her neck and handed it to him. “Do me a favor, will you? Strangle me.”
    â€œQuit hiding behind jokes and talk to me.”
    â€œI’m not hiding,” Katie insisted, acute embarrassment burning through her at being so transparent. When he didn’t take the scarf, she retied it around her neck and rose unsteadily on her feet. “I really need to go home.”
    â€œWhy don’t we try this again?”
    â€œWhat, a date?” Just shaking her head made her eyeballs feel like loose marbles rolling around in her head. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œWhy the hell not?” The edge of anger in his voice as he hurriedly gathered up their picnic foods and threw them into the basket got her attention. “So you drank on an empty stomach. So you threw up. So big deal.”
    â€œI don’t know, Paul.” She took a few unsteady steps. “I have to think about it.”
    â€œWhat’s to think about?” he demanded, slamming the picnic basket shut. “Katie?”
    â€œPaul, I really need you to get me home.” The wine was making her temples pound and her stomach was still doing the samba. All she wanted was to crawl between the clean, crisp sheets of her childhood bed.
    â€œNot until you tell me what you’re thinking.”
    â€œI’m not thinking, Paul. I’m drunk. And humiliated. And ashamed. And—”
    â€œI’ve got the picture.” Taking her arm, he slowly walked with her to the car, opening the door for her. “We’ll talk about this when you’re feeling better.” He leaned down, face close to hers. “I’m not letting you off the hook, Fisher. Don’t forget it.”
    Katie just groaned and looked away.
    Â 
    Â 
    â€œ Aunt Katie? Why do you keep popping aspirin?”
    Katie looked over at Tuck, anxiously bouncing along the brick path beside her. They were on their way to visit Mina at Windy Gables, the rehab facility. Katie loved the way these places always seemed to have names conjuring up images of serenity: Windy Gables, Seven Oaks. As if all the residents were peaceful, contented folks. She supposed it made sense, though. What else could you call it? Detox Acres? Cold Turkey Meadows?
    â€œAunt Katie has a headache. It’s no big deal.”
    The last thing she’d wanted to do when she got up that morning with the hangover from hell was drag her ass out of bed, but she’d promised to take Tuck to see Mina, and there was no way she was going to let him down. Besides, she wanted to see Mina, too. It was the first time since her sister had been admitted that she was allowed to have visitors. So here she was, sunglasses keeping the glare out of her eyes, aspirin not working nearly as well as she would have liked. It didn’t help her mood when she’d come down to breakfast to find her mother pacing the kitchen floor like an expectant father.
    â€œWell?” she demanded eagerly, following so close behind Katie as she went to get coffee that Katie could feel her breath on her neck. “How was your date?”
    â€œIt was great!” Katie

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