The Last Hand
Catherine had always been good at poker. Her now jail bound father, Samuel Braun, had taught her. She remembered one thing he always told her: "When it's crunch time, the last hand is always the hardest." She never heard a saying more true in her life. The last hand was truly the hardest in any poker game coming to an end. Of course the whole game was high stakes, but there was something about that last hand that made any player's skin crawl. A confident player was a bad player, that was her motto.
She sat in her home with a few of her other friends playing a friendly game of poker. The pot was at three hundred. Catherine began to wonder how that amount of money winded up on her table. She thought the pot would be around fifty. Surprise, surprise. There was grocery money sitting right in the middle of the table. It was down to her and Kira, a friend of hers. Catherine really felt the pressure. Three hundred dollars to do with as she pleased if she won.
Kira made her move.
"Four aces."
Catherine felt the tension easing away as she gently put down her royal flush.
"Thank you for a lovely game," she said collecting the pot.
What to do with three hundred dollars? Lord knew she wasn't going to go grocery shopping. She had plenty of food in the house. What stores were open at three in the morning? Wal-mart was open twenty-four hours. She'd go there. It was better than sleeping alone.
She said good night to her friends and watched them all leave. Lindsay was at her friend's house for a sleep over and knew that by now, Lindsay was asleep. She grabbed her keys and stuffed the money in her pocket and headed out to Wal-mart.
The drive was relaxing. When she pulled up, she took the money out of her pocket and counted the money. Three hundred exactly.
She had never been to Wal-mart late at night. It was so peaceful she could cry. Solitude was her best friend although, not to many people pegged her to be a solitary person. There were a lot of things that people didn't know about her. They just assumed that because she used to be a stripper, that she was a prostitute, and a horrible mother. Not so. She only stripped to pay the bills and take care of Lindsay while going to school. It was very hard with a child and an abusive husband in tow, but she managed. That was one thing she and Eddie fought about all the time: money. It was hard living with a get-rich-quick schemer and an impulsive shopper. They fought, but she wondered why it had to be so violent. Money is of no object. Money was never worth buying one hundred dollars worth of cover up for the bruises on her face.
Her marriage to Eddie wasn't all bad. They had happy times too. The time when Lindsay was born, their two year anniversary, birthdays, holidays…it was just the little things in between that made her marriage a bust. She blamed herself for two years after she and Eddie divorced. When he died, she had never felt more guilty in her life. She used work, Lindsay, and shopping to keep her mind off of him. She was always impeccably dressed for work. Wal-mart was actually below her as far as taste went, but it was a store and it was open. She was bound to find something she liked.
Up and down…side to side…to the left, to the right… She picked up things, stared at them and put them down. Walked through aisle after aisle looking for something, but finding nothing. Her frustration boiled within her to the point of tears. She had no reason to be out at three thirty in the morning shopping. She thought that her life was incredibly pathetic.
For a second Catherine thought about what her life would be like without all the painful memories and shameful decisions. Her life would be pie. But she didn't want her life to be pie. She never liked simplicity. She wanted challenges in her life. But now that she had no one except for Lindsay, she figured simplicity may be the best thing for her.
"Cath?" A deep voice called from behind her.
She turned abruptly, pissed off at whoever the stranger was that knew her name.
"Warrick?" She should have known. "What are you doing here?"
"I guess I should ask you the same question," he quipped. "If you must know, I'm here to pick up some beef jerky for one of Griss' bugs. I walked by and I saw you crying in the middle of the aisle."
"Oh," she said rather forlornly. "Well, actually, I was just leaving."
It was strange, she felt that murmur in her heart that was for her a sign of attraction. She found herself staring at him and then looked away.
"Well, I better get back to work," Warrick said casually. "I'll see you."
"Bye," Catherine said shortly walking in the other direction.
"Hey the exit is this way Cath," Warrick called to her.
Why was this so awkward? He was her coworker for God's sake. She'd been working with him for three years. Get a grip Catherine, she thought to herself.
"Oh, yeah," she said smiling the fake smile that she knew that he knew was fake. "My brain's gone to mush lately. When you're flowing like a river you're mind just goes out the window."
Warrick regarded her strangely. "That was a little more information than I needed Catherine. Are you feeling okay? You're acting very un-Catherine like."
"I'm fine," she lied. "Uh, I change my mind. I found some jeans that I really liked over there and I think I'm going to find a matching shirt. I'll see you at work tomorrow night."
She had practically dismissed him. He nodded and went on his way. For one guilty, sinful, and obnoxious moment, she gave his backside a once over and mulled over the things she could do to his body. She quickly regretted it. She was cracking up. Catherine was convinced that she had lost her mind. All after winning a game of poker. Well, it was the real world poker this time. She was in a rut and her pot was her heart and body. She wanted someone to love her. To really love her for who she was. Paul was okay at that, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't fall over dumb and speechless love. That's what she wanted. That's what she needed.
She didn't know what happened with Warrick. She felt something for him that she never felt before. She figured it was out of disparity. Besides, she needed someone around her age. She was thirty six and he was thirty. She felt as if she were robbing the cradle. Who said he felt the same way about her?
She sighed. It was way too early in the morning to be thinking such things. What she needed was a shot of vodka and a bed.
