n. She sat frozen on the couch with the phone still off the hook beside her. The time
just seemed to pass her by these days without her knowing what time or even what day it
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was. She seemed to be living outside of her body, numb to everything but the pain in her
heart, in her bones, in her head. She was just so tired . . . Her stomach grumbled and she
realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Had it been yesterday?
She shuffled into the kitchen wearing Gerry’s dressing gown and her favorite pink “Disco
Diva” slippers, which Gerry had bought her the previous Christmas. She was his Disco
Diva, he used to say. Always the first on the dance floor, always the last out of the club.
Huh, where was that girl now? She opened the fridge and stared in at the empty shelves.
Just vegetables and yogurt long past its sell-by date leaving a horrible stench in the fridge.
There was nothing to eat. She smiled weakly as she shook the milk carton. Empty. Third on
his list . . .
Christmas two years ago Holly had gone shopping with Sharon for a dress for the annual
ball they attended at the Burlington Hotel. Shopping with Sharon was always a dangerous
outing, and John and Gerry had joked about how they would once again suffer through
Christmas without any presents as a result of the girls’ shopping sprees. But they weren’t
far wrong. Poor neglected husbands, the girls always called them.
That Christmas Holly had spent a disgraceful amount of money in Brown Thomas on the
most beautiful white dress she had ever seen. “sh*t, Sharon, this will burn a huge hole in
my pocket,” Holly guiltily said, biting her lip and running her fingers over the soft material.
“Aah, don’t worry, Gerry can stitch it up for you,” Sharon replied, followed by her
infamous cackle. “And stop calling me ‘sh*t Sharon,’ by the way. Every time we go
shopping you address me as that. If you’re not careful I might start taking offense. Buy the
damn thing, Holly. It’s Christmas after all, the season of giving and all that.”
“God, you are so evil, Sharon. I’m never shopping with you again. This is like, half my
month’s wages. What am I going to do for the rest of the month?”
“Holly, would you rather eat or look fab?” Was it even worth thinking about?
“I’ll take it,” Holly said excitedly to the sales assistant.
The dress was cut low, which showed off Holly’s neat little chest perfectly, and it was split
to the thigh, displaying her slim legs. Gerry hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. It
wasn’t because she looked so beautiful, however. He just couldn’t understand how on earth
that little slip of material had cost so much. Once at the ball, Ms. Disco Diva overindulged
in the alcoholic beverages and succeeded in destroying her dress by spilling red wine down
her front. Holly tried but failed to hold back her tears while the men at the table drunkenly ③本③作③品③由③③網③友③整③理③上③傳③
informed their partners that number fifty-four on the list prevented you from drinking red
wine while wearing an expensive white dress. It was then decided that milk was the
preferred beverage, as it wouldn’t be visible if spilled on expensive white dresses.
Later, when Gerry knocked his pint over, causing it to dribble off the edge of the table onto
Holly’s lap, she tearily yet seriously announced to the table (and some of the surrounding
tables), “Rule fitty-fife ov the list: neffer effer buy a ’spensive white dress.” And so it was
agreed, and Sharon awoke from her coma from somewhere underneath the table to applaud
and offer moral support. A toast was made (after the startled waiter had delivered the tray
full of glasses of milk) to Holly and to her profound addition to the list. “I’m sorry ’bout
your ’spensive white dress, Holly,” John had hiccuped before falling out of the taxi and
dragging Sharon alongside him to their house.
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Was it possible that Gerry had kept his word and written
