Utter, utter relief. Defecation used to be something Petunia winced at the thought of even discussing. Today, it was a joyful occurrence. It meant everything was alright, all her woes released from her body in one great cathartic motion.
Somewhere in her mid-30's, somehow, she came across the Bristol stool chart. It was a life changing experience. Consumed now, as she was, with the consistency, shape, color and buoyancy of her relief.
"How are you Peti?" Gladice beemed. She had been beeming since she had her dentures replaced with porcelain caps. A barbie doll's smile on the body of a gollum figurine.
"You look stupid Glady, those teeth are too big, didn't they give options?"
"I look fantastic, it took ten years off, shut up and deal."
Gladice and Petunia had been rubber bridge partners for 5 years. They met in a graveyard.
"So, your husband is dead, huh, mine too."
Gladice shrugged, "it would appear so."
"Did you like him?"
Thinking on this, "not really."
"I didn't really like mine either, sorry for your loss."
"You too."
"I always wished I had married Tim Seres."
"Me Too!!!!"
They were firm friends thereafter, bonded by the conflicting emotions. The loss of someone you love but are thoroughly sick of and their rampant lust for Tim Seres, the international king of rubber bridge.
The year was 1958, London, Tim owned the bridge scene. When Tim entered a room, heads turned, women crossed their legs and cigarettes were lit. Little did they know, when they met in a graveyard many lifetimes later, they had both been there. Vying for his attention, waiting for the privligde of playing with him. Nothing is more attractive to a woman than a man that lives on his own terms, this was Tim's philosophy.
While both women adored this man and they adored his sport, call it circumstance, call it generational, they had never lived on their own terms. Now, with their husbands beneath their feet, they were free. Now, they could live like Tim.
As it's name suggests, rubber bridge is played in rubbers. A rubber is the best of three games. Each game built on a contract and the game won by the first team to score 100 points for successful contracts. A contract is the assurance that you will produce a certain score in a hand as predicted.
Perhaps, that's why rubber bridge spoke to Petunia and Gladice. Their lives were based on contracts.
You marry me, you take care of me and I predict I will have your children. If I am successful you will take care of me and our children for the rest of our lives.
Now, with their husbands in the grave, the stakes were higher, they had new contracts to negotiate. They had been scoping out this bakery for the last three weeks. It was a block from were they met to play bridge. Each morning they would walk past and buy a pastry and a coffee. Unassuming septergenarian bridge players.
They needed money. Their husbands, while loving , had left them nothing but stretch marks, ungrateful children, piles and neurosis. They wanted more.
On their way to the regional rubber bridge tournament one summer day, they didn't show up. A win, but slightly disatisfying for their aponents, a forfeit.
As Gladdy and Peti drove towards their futures with a bun truck and $30,000 cash from the register.
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