Apologies

There’s only one way to comfort a widow. But remember the risk.
Excerpt from the notebooks of Lazarus Long
Time Enough For Love, Robert A. Heinlein



Silently, Mal pulled the door behind him, easing the latch back into its slot with nary a click. He hoped Missus – Nope, had to use her real name now, specially seeing as they’d – Misty. He hoped Misty could keep sleeping as he’d left her, like it was the first peaceful night she’d had maybe since she ‘n’ Mister’d come to the Post, certainly since he’d been shot, or so she’d told Mal over that fifth – or was it sixth? – whiskey. Whichever, he’d been clear enough when she’d asked him to see her home, and clear enough when he’d accepted.

It’s not like it’d been hard. Mal padded out onto the porch and set to pulling up his boots, then chuckled to himself – OK, it had been very hard – but then he’d always admired Missus – Misty – and any flirtatious exchanges he could get in when visiting the Post had always made them both smile, though under the watchful eye of Mister every time before now.

Still, the words of the note he’d left her kept running around his head, just like they had been all night long:

“Don’t be mistaken in my leaving. I’m not sorry for making love to you last night, and I’m not sorry for making love to you this morning. I’m not even sorry for leaving you, sleeping so peaceful-like, and I’m not sorry I can’t say when I’ll be back because we both know that counting on anything like that in this ‘verse will only make us both sorry.”

Mal allowed himself just one more moment to look behind his eyes and see her again, all splayed legs, bared breasts and tangled sheets, then moved on in the direction of Serenity, the prospective client meet he couldn’t miss, and the inevitable ribbing he wished he could.




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