How quickly a hole-puncher can ruin a clean piece of paper.

A Story by Al M.

Jim sat an appropriate distance away from the display case. He didn't want the saleswoman to become overly enthusiastic. Still, he felt confident that he wanted to make a decision today. This was his fifth week of shopping; after being at 9 different stores, he had finally narrowed down his list enough to make a decision. A mid 50's looking woman came up to him. Her name tag said "Carole".

"Anything I can help you with, sir?" She smiled. She had a tiny bit of fuchsia lipstick on her right front tooth.

****

she glared at him over the rim of her vodka drink. the ice clinking against the sides, her eyes narrowing like a cartoon villainess'. It had been 5 years and 3 weeks since their first date. 6 years and 1 month since they had first met. 5 years flat since the first time they had sex- that time that she knew she would never f**k another man as long as she lived.

He ducked in the door and tried to avoid her stare- he could tell from her voice on the phone when he had called after work that she wasn't sober; she probably hadn't been since early in the afternoon. It's not that she was a drunk, in fact, she was a very responsible, and overall kind person, but on her days off from work, she would proclaim it a "free day" and spend 14 hours drinking on the couch and watching marathons of bad reality t.v. On these days, she would eat nothing, and lie when he would ask her about what she did today. She would usually says something like "Made some scrambled eggs, went shopping but couldn't find anything, then worked out, went for coffee with Mandy, ate a salad, paid some bills, vacuumed, and then opened a bottle of wine and made a light dinner", when what she meant was "Debated taking a shower, was going to go to a movie but instead watched a wedding show on the women's channel, made a few bloody mary's, made one more, drank two bottles of wine, then called my mother about what a terrible boyfriend you are."

He caught her eye by mistake.

"How was your day, Honey?" She emphasized "honey" in an antagonizing way. She almost had to shout over the television and the music she had blaring from her computer.

"It was okay, thanks." Jim answered. He moved from the living room and into the kitchen; Sara liked to call it a "kitchenette", rather than admit to guests that they simply had a tiny, barely functioning kitchen. When they had company, Sara would say things like, "yes, it's small, but it's so US", or "We just have so many memories here, we'd feel like sell-outs leaving this place just to find somewhere bigger." To be honest, Jim loved when she said this- it made them look like bigger people, not into material things or images, yet he knew if Sara had the chance, she would move them both into a McMansion in some hick town 40 minutes outside of the city in which they had met. Jim told Sara countless times that they could move somewhere else, but he was convinced she liked staying where they were just to add another thing to her list of complaints about their relationship.

"You know, it would be nice if you would surprise me once in a while." She cracked her knuckles and tried to give him an "I'm disappointed in you" look, but instead just looked drunk and confused.

****

Falling in love was easy for Jim and Sara. It happened by mistake one day at Sara's sister's bachelorette party. Sara was a free spirit, drunk off tequila shots that the other bridesmaids in the wedding forced her to take. She sang Fleetwood Mac on karaoke and stumbled around. He heard the bridesmaids hoot when she fell into his lap in what seemed to be a poorly-executed dare. "Hello, gorgeous" she smiled at Jim. He smelled a warm mixture of tequila and beer and peeled a sticky strand of hair off of her forehead. "Hello, drunk lady." He chuckled back to her. Over the next 2 hours, Jim got Sara 4 glasses of water and fried mushrooms. She was sobering up a bit while the other girls all blacked out, fell down, and ultimately left her at the bar with a total stranger.

"…and that's how I got this scar." She lifted her head and pointed to a long white crack on her jawline. He couldn't stop his index finger from tracing the rough line that lead from the tip of her chin all the way to her right earlobe, yet he already forgot the accident that left her with this beautiful flaw. She looked around the bar for the first time in 45 minutes and realized her party was gone. Jim hadn't noticed them leave, though that must have been the first clue that he was interested in this girl- the noise level in the bar had dramatically decreased.

"S**t." She looked at the little gold watch on her wrist. It was an ugly thing with a rose etched on the band. 3:30.

"I can get you a cab." Jim offered.

"No, I'm staying with Elise." She shook her head realizing she'd need to explain. "One of the girls in that group." Sara had told Jim earlier in the night that she currently lived about an hour outside of Chicago but was planning on moving to the city for a new job.

He felt bad for her. She looked lost. He could tell she was probably very pretty. Tonight, she was… pretty. The dancing and drinking had probably changed her appearance a bit. Her blonde hair was looped into a lop-sided ponytail, her eyeliner had smeared underneath her eyes, she was shiny with sweat, but that smile. That was gorgeous.

"I haven't seen 3 AM in a long time." She said. She had also earlier confessed to being a bit of a homebody. He found that adorable. While he enjoyed his nights out and saw 3, 4, even 5 AM regularly, his ideal girlfriend would be able to tone him down; show him the beauty of cooking dinner and watching TV and drinking wine at home.

****

He busied himself by putting his thermos and tupperware container from his lunch into the sink and he heard her get up from the couch and enter the kitchenette.

"Do you even remember the last time you took me out?" She leaned against the door frame and held her drink close to her face with a limp wrist. He had his back to her, but could perfectly picture the look on her face. The look her old high school best friend drunkenly coined the "Nemesis" eyes when she came to stay with them two years ago. He, after 4 bourbons, told the friend that he knew exactly what she meant. Sara laughed it off immediately, but threw her earrings and ugly gold watch onto the dresser the minute they were alone and jabbed her finger into his chest telling him how disrespectful it was to take the side of a b***h she hadn't even spoken to since 2007. He wished he could explain that he was only trying to make a good impression on what he thought was an important friend from her past. He wanted to tell her how, honestly, Sara and Janie's constant quoting of stupid movie lines was bad enough, but the two of them acting like it was some private joke that only the two of them understood was unbearable. He'd much rather never seer Janie again. Yet, he sympathized with her a bit. Did she need his sympathy? Surely she did, dealing with years of friendship with Sara. It's possible she's still recovering from the judgment and sarcasm and "Nemesis" eyes.

*****

He fumbled for excuses he could use as dates. "we went to that IMAX in January." It was now March. "Taking your niece to see a penguin IMAX isn't a date, Jim." She smiled, as though she enjoyed watching him desperately search for the reasons why he still deserved her. She took a long drink from her cup- it could be water, could be vodka, she liked being mysterious. "Maybe someday you'll love me again." And she tried to look enticing when she said it. It only read "pathetic." By the time Jim had finished washing his thermos and all of the empty glasses, Sara was passed out on the couch; cell phone in hand, mouth partially open, and still, to Jim, stunning. He covered her with a blanket that smelled like their friend John who wore too much cologne, and went to bed. Perhaps she'd be Sara in the morning.

She rarely was anymore.

****

He stumbled from his bed to make coffee. His apartment was messy; laundry hadn't been done in two weeks and his cat had probably s**t under the bed. The floors felt sort of sticky under his bare feet as he rubbed his eyes and made his familiar 20 step trudge to his kitchen. A fuzzy figure stopped him as he rubbed his eyes and remembered last night. She was small and curled under a blanket an ex-girlfriend had made for him. Her bare feet stuck out from under it. Rings from shot glasses lined his cheap coffee table. They had been up until 7 AM talking, dancing, and drinking wine from shot glasses. All Jim had in the house was a bottle of cheap Shiraz, but Sara insisted that the

"best and funnest way to get to know someone is over shots!" so that's what they did. He quickly recalled all his new information.

3 brothers

Paralegal

Divorced parents

Hates Chinese food

Loves puppies

When she's rich (or super poor) her bed will be a giant bean bag

Allergic to raspberries

Thinks she's really funny

She stirred. She smiled. She freaked out momentarily wondering where she was. "S**t." She grasped the side of her head like she thought it may have fallen off. Then she relaxed as she stretched her legs out. "Hello, scoundrel." He forgot that she had nicknamed that last night.

****

When he woke up, she was already awake. It was their day off together. She used to always make pancakes on Sunday. Today, she was sitting on the couch in her pajamas drinking coffee. She had made only enough for herself. He peeked out from the bedroom. She sat Indian-style on the couch. When he opened his underwear drawer to get dressed, he uncovered the small velvet box and opened it, rubbing his thumb over the tiny little diamond he could afford. He bit the insides of his cheeks while he started unloading his clothing into duffel bags.