Read Online Better Off Without Him by Dee Ernst - Free Book Online

vaguely remembered, was an electrician, short and red-haired. Wore a Rolex. Ben turned to Aunt Lily. “I’ve put all your bags in the guest room. Have a pleasant visit.”
    Aunt Lily was visibly flirting. “Why thank you, my dear man. And who are you again? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    “This is my plumber, Ben,” I explained, sinking wearily into a chair. “Ben, this is my Aunt Lily.”
    Ben actually walked over and kissed her hand. “A pleasure. May I call you Lily?”
    “Oh, but of course. So, you’re Ben? Why, the girls have told me all about you.”
    I looked over in alarm. “The girls? My girls? Have told you all about Ben? What have they told you?”
    Lily was smiling mischievously. “They’ve told me that he has the most marvelous ass. My dear man, could you possibly turn around and bend over?”
    Ben was, understandably, speechless. MarshaMarsha looked at me in complete amazement, took a deep breath and spoke, very heartily.
    “Ben, are you done in the basement, or are there still a few things to finish up?”
    Ben smiled woodenly and backed out of the living room. I think that only his iron will prevented him from clasping his hands protectively over his marvelous ass.
    Aunt Lily was craning her neck to watch him disappear around the corner. “My heavens,” she said, “if I were twenty years younger, I’d ride him hard then rub him down slow.” She smiled wistfully. “Then I’d ride him again.”
    Before I could say anything, not that I was capable of reasonable speech, but still, Patricia came back in, carrying a tray laden with sandwiches and, thank the Lord, another pitcher and some more glasses. She had broken out the second string as far as the martini glasses went – the shorter ones, smaller bowls, thicker stems. Still perfectly adequate, of course.
    “Now, Lily,” she said as she handed Aunt Lily a plate of food and began pouring, “tell me all about the Martians.”
    “Well, they’re not really Martians,” Aunt Lily said, nibbling the corner of something topped with melted fontina.
    My shoulders slumped in relief. Thank God. Of course, there were no Martians. She probably was thinking of the conservation group that camped in the park last year to protest the spraying of the white-winged moth or something.
    “Well, of course there are no Martians coming,” I agreed, gratefully taking a very tiny sip.
    “No. I don’t know what they’re called, exactly,” Aunt Lily continued. “Their planet, you see, is very far from here. So Mr. Knapper, you know, from down the hall, just called them Martians. But I’m sure they have their own proper name. You know, like the Muslims and the Iowans do.” She sipped her martini and nodded in appreciation. “Excellent, Patricia. I really needed this. And the sandwich, too. I did interrupt something, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Mona dear. A celebration, perhaps? Is it someone’s birthday? Or just a girls’ get-together?”
    “Brian left me,” I blurted. “Today. This morning. For another woman.”
    Aunt Lily stared at me. “Really?”
    “Yes.” I drained the entire contents of my glass without a blink.
    Aunt Lily put her glass down and sighed. “Well, thank heavens for that. You’re lucky to be rid of him, Mona dear. He was without a doubt the worst husband ever.”
    Patricia, I could see, was visibly moved. That didn’t happen to her very often. Her lips actually parted and her hand, bringing her glass up to her lips, stopped midway.
    “Aunt Lily,” I sputtered. “I thought you liked Brian!”
    “Oh, I do dear. Very much.” Lily had put her plate of food down on the coffee table to take her drink from Patricia, and was now squinting at the sandwich selection, her hand wavering between the cold proscuitto and the hot blue cheese. “He’s so charming. Funny, but not too obvious. Good at parties. And he’s generous. That necklace he gave you a few months ago? Very well done.” She was frowning and she looked up at me.