Abyss (Songs of Megiddo) by Daniel Klieve Read Free Book Online

seeming to relax a little. But still he appeared insistently determined to pull at the top of his tie. It did briefly occur to me that if he’d actually listened to me instead of being the stubborn little masochist he so enjoyed being, he wouldn’t have had to deal with it at all. I’d told him that he could unbutton his shirt down to his stomach and leave it untucked for all I cared. I’d more-or-less meant it, too.
    “You don’t have to worry about it on my account. I’m Australian .” My reasoning had been. “As long as there’s beer at the reception, I’m good.” Meg – our constant companion through most of the planning and discussion – had, without looking up from a magazine she was reading, held out a fist for me to bump. With a reluctant eye-roll, I’d acquiesced.
    “Stop acting like guys. Why don’t I ever get to be the guy?” He’d snarked. I’d almost choked on a mouthful of beer.
    “You ...don’t want an answer to that. Trust me.” Meg had shaken her head, looking up from her magazine to meet his eyes. He’d held up his hands, as if to say: ‘try me’.
    “Okay fine,” I’d shrugged. “How about ...you don’t like sports? And you even use the term ‘sports’ as a catch-all instead of specifying a particular sport?”
    “ And I’ve actually heard you use the phrase: ‘making love’ without a hint of irony.” Meg had added, joining in.
    “Not while he’s been with me , right?” I’d recoiled in mock-horror. Meg had placed a hand on my knee; her shaking head and playfully sombre eyes conveying the news. “Oh, gross, Naithe...”
    “ You have, too!”
    “In private.” I’d clarified: “And only when you wouldn’t put out, otherwise,”
    “Ugh ...I dunno what’s worse; that I’m hearing my best friend saying that about my nephew, or that it actually sounds like it worked,”
    “Oh, it definitely worked,” I’d smirked, winking at her.
    “Yeah. It kinda did...” Naithe admitted with a sly little grin.
    “Appalling. Have some self -respect, lady.” Meg had mocked; the comment directed at Naithe. “Who’s gonna buy the cow when the cow gives it up for free?” I’d burst out laughing.
    “I’ve got one, ” I managed to compose myself long enough to interject: “How about...‘cause all your favourite alcoholic drinks are fruit-flavoured?” I took a demonstrative and uncouth swig of beer; swiping over my lips with my forearm for effect.
    “I hope you get scurvy.” he’d stated, as if it were a universally held understanding that avoiding the disease was directly causally linked to imbibing girly alco-pops. If he’d been able to keep a straight face, I probably would have just about died laughing.
    “Not just fruit,” Meg had amended. “ Weird fruit. Tangerine...pomegranate...kiwifruit – ”
    “ – For one thing, I like a lot of different drinks – ”
    “ – Not beer.” I’d interjected.
    “Hey.” He’d pointed in my direction, as if to say: ‘Wait your turn, at least’. “And another thing: Kiwifruit is weird now?”
    “It’s named after a calf -high, flightless bird.” Meg had deadpanned. “Yeah: it’s fucking weird.”
    “Also: you don’t like violent video games...you can change diapers with, like, a professional level of skill – ” I’d listed off, before Meg cut in with:
    “ – And you were born with a vagi – ”
    “ – Hey. Enough. No more.”
    “That’s what she said.” Meg had snorted. Naithe had just rolled his eyes. “And see? You don’t think sexist jokes are funny.” Meg had lamented.
    “It wasn’t that sexist, and it wasn’t funny: period.” He deadpanned.
    “Ha. Period.” Meg chuckled.
    “Are you eight?” Naithe exhaled – hard – with exaggerated exasperation. Meg just held out a hand, indicating: ‘exhibit A’.
    “It’s not looking good, Miss ...” I’d agreed.
    “Fine. Whatever. Do you want to wear the tux?” He’d snapped at me: “You can wear the tux if you want to.”
    “