Irma sat down, and I handed her the deck. She shuffled the cards and began to tell me how she and her husband would play strip blackjack to keep the ...omance going. I said to Irma, that sounds like a challenge. Irma said, yes it is. We're gonna play stip blackjack and the winner gets 3 wishes after the game. Irma dealt the cards. First had she wins, so I take off my socks and shoes. She deals the second hand, and I lose again, so I take off my pants. Next hand I win. She's only wearing. It seemed surreal to be doing something so normal after the events of the last few hours. I found my thoughts preying on me: what had happened, what a terrible attack this had been and how it could have been Lisa or me in that car. I looked over at her and she was huddled in her seat, not looking out. She was crying again. Reaching over, I opened the glove box and pulled out a packet of tissues. After I closed the glove box and gave them to her, I just put my hand on her leg so she could feel. After an extended quiet, Sam said, ‘Sherry, what I’m about to say is going to sound crazy, but wait until I’m finished before you say anything.’ With apprehension in her voice, she said, ‘All right, Sam.” ‘You can’t stay here tonight. It’s not safe. And I don’t want you to go away.’ He kissed her hair, then continued, ‘I have two weeks vacation left, and I could take them starting today. So what I think we should do is pack some of your stuff and have you move in with my mother for a few days.. I knew I was making a mistake, but at that moment, I didn't care, and couldn't have stopped myself if I had. "Oh, I hear you. What makes you think it has to be about you? Does everything have to be about you? Can't I have my own pain? Does the world have to be all you, you, you? I can take care of my own damn self without a fucking therapy session every time you think I have to share my goddamn feelings!" Fresh tears spilled from my eyes, and I shut up to try and hide. Hide the pain they.
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