Id known David for a long time; we were at school together. Wed always been the best of friends and we look so similar that we have often been mistaken for brothers. But theres one big difference between us; while I have stayed single, Dave married his long-term girlfriend, Gina.
Now Gina is a lovely girl. She has long dark hair that frames a pretty face and a nice trim figure. Theres definitely a little bit of Italian in her – from her errant fathers side I think – and this shows most in her fiery temperament. Dave and Gina had been trying to get pregnant for many months without success, and this had not improved her mood; everything that went wrong was Daves fault – or mine, if I was around – and, to be fair, the constant aggravation was beginning to wear a bit thin.
It was a Saturday night and, as usual, Dave and I had imbibed of a few alcoholic beverages at our local bar. Hed told me that Gina was also going out – a "girls night" as hed described it, and I hoped that when we both returned to his house for a nightcap, that her evenings entertainment would have put her in a good mood for a change.
Both Dave and I sighed exhaustedly as we entered his house to the usual sounds of complaint from Gina.
"What time do you call this?" She chastised us. "Where have you been? Who have you been with? How much have you had to drink?"
The tirade of questions seemed endless.
But there was a subtle difference in Ginas voice. It was as hard and as patronising as usual, but there was a lilt or possibly a slur to her words. It suddenly dawned on me that the Daves usually very sober wife had drunk a few too many glasses of Chianti!
Doing his best to ignore her accusing eyes, Dave fetched two beers from the fridge and we both slumped down in the lounge to enjoy them. Gina was up in a second, her hands on her hips and yelling at my friend.
"So, wheres my drink then?"
I was a little surprised to say the least. Apart from the occasional half glass of wine w... Läs hela novellen
