Now or Never

Lindsay stared at the half drunk glass of white wine in the flimsy plastic cup and stepped back, her outstretched arm slowly retreating back to her hip pocket, as if burrowing into a protective warren, hiding from voracious predators. Except the danger was a 2003 Pinot Grigio Erik brought to Shelley's 40th and knowing how Erik gets at celebratory functions, this would be the first of maybe a dozen or so cups he would plow through over the course of the evening. If Lindsay tried to keep pace she'd be flat on her ass within the hour. Erik could drink. Maybe it was his Irish/Scottish/crazy Viking heritage that programmed it into his DNA because it was beyond anything Lindsay had ever encountered in a partner before. Sure they liked a good bottle of wine together but half a bottle on their first date over of a shared plate of curry fries at the local somehow evolved into two bottles a night, three nights a week in order to help them both unwind from their difficult days at work. Three years in and they were no closer to starting a family than the evening of their first anniversary when Erik told her how much he wanted to have kids. Timing was everything, money was everything, owning a home was everything. Everything was everything except the thing  they didn't want to talk about or have to actually deal with in the reality of their relationship. Erik was a sloppy drunk and Lindsay hated waking up thick and slow, like she was swimming through mud. How long is too long, Lindsay  wondered, before she just got stuck, complacent in stasis, mired in bitterness and anger, frustrated by not moving forward? They used to laugh. A lot. She's not getting any younger and unlike the wine Erik adores, she's not looking to be cellared and only enjoyed with age.

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