First Fight
Image by Dewald Van Rensburg from PixabayLynn stormed down the beach, sandals clutched in one hand.
“Come on, Lynn, please come back to the restaurant. You can
order something else!” Greg said. He stopped at the sidewalk’s edge, not
wanting to get sand in his shoes if he didn’t have to.
Lynn whipped around and pointed her sandals at Greg
accusingly. “No! This is a sign from God!”
Greg cocked his head to the side and shaded his eyes to see
her better against the setting sun. “Aren’t you being a tad overdramatic?”
“No, Greg. That tentacle moved. You saw it. And I swear to God
it winked at me.”
“It’s the citric acid in the ceviche. It can cause twitches
sometimes. Anyway, octopuses don’t even have eyelids, Lynn. Octopi. Octopuses?”
“Three days, Greg! Three days we’ve been married, and they
have been the worst three days of my life!”
“Honey,” he said. “Look around you. We’re in paradise.” He
demonstrated by turning around, taking in the crystal blue ocean, the mesa
across the strait, the long stretch of virgin sand, and the luxury hotels that
catered to their every need. “No one could hate this place without trying.”
“Oh. So, it’s my fault. Was I trying to get attacked by that
shark while we were snorkeling?”
“That was a nurse shark, and it wasn’t within—”
“And getting sunburned?” She took off her sunglasses. The
bright white circles were clearly visible, even in silhouette.
“I did offer you sunscr—”
“And what about our bed?”
Greg’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong with our
bed?”
“It’s so comfortable, we both fall right asleep! This is not
how I imagined our honeymoon.”
His shoulders sank. “I’m sorry, Honey. What do you want to do?”
Her anger softened. “Well, this was our first fight. So…
make-up sex?”
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