She smacked the arm attached to the hand which was buried under my baggy silk shorts and told me I better wash those fingers before I ate my breakfast. She giggled a little at her own attempt at humor then continued to the fridge for the juice and more fruit. I didnt laugh and I didnt wash my hands. This was not the time for funny business or acceptable personal hygiene.

I knew I could not put off the inevitable and I felt a little lump in my throat begin to form as I followed K with my eyes while she returned to her seat at the table. How things got to this point I still have not been able to figure out although I am not surprised that they have. I am the knucklehead in this family . . . I am the one with the self-destructive addiction . . . I am the one who cyber stalks fan fic writers . . . I am the one who is cheating on my wife with an imaginary yet unbelievably real *****-text partner . . . I am the one who is crushing on my shrink and my ER doc. . . I am the one who is killing our relationship . . .so how could K do this to me? And how could she be so calm, so cucumber cool, so collected as she sits and reads the paper as if nothing were wrong.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes tightly. I had practiced these words over and over again in my head the night before as K slept so soundly. (COME ON BEACH . . . YOU CAN DO THIS.YOU HAVE TO DO THIS.) I talked to myself for just one quick moment and new it was time . . .time for K to face the music . . .to walk the plank and confront the BEACH . . .

Yea, I know what day it is K, but what I dont know is what HER name is,. I angrily and sarcastically blurted out knowing that I would scare her and perhaps catch her off guard, catch her in a lie.

Whose name, babe? she asked without looking up from the paper, in that calm, cool, collected voice.