She said

So what did Donnie do, after texting me four or five times throughout the day to say he was actually taking care of dinner for once? He came home from work an hour late with a sack of damp hamburgers.

“Wow,” I said. “Shitty fast food. You shouldn’t have.”

He flashed me this weird, triumphant smile – I love him, I really do, but he’s an idiot – and he threw the bag on the table as he turned on the TV. I unwrapped the food and grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard.

He sat there in virtual silence, ignoring me as I tried to choke down this so-called meal. Then, all of the sudden, he yelled “Oh, shit!” and leaped across the table to grab the remote – only he was in such a panic that he knocked it right off the table and sent it clattering across the tiles.

I looked up at the TV just in time to see the burgers we were eating – marked down to like two for a buck – before he pulled the damned plug out of the wall.

The funny thing was, he looked at me like he was busted. Who really cares if he spent a buck on a couple of burgers instead of… what, three or four bucks? It’s not like he cooked an actual meal, like I do every other night.

Even so, I guess he thought he was in trouble, and he figured he’d better try and get out of it. So he looked me right in the eye – I swear to God – and said “So, later on tonight, you want to, um… you know?”

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