But today, Joe Starling, a lifelong parishioner in Father Bruce's parish, had come into my office and asked me to begin divorce proceedings. Though on opposite sides of the divorce issue, Father B. Starling, these two were doomed from the day he got on bended knee. 'I have nothing against marriage, as you will soon see. 'I'm certainly not gloating,' I objected, reaching over to move another patron's beer, which was in danger of being knocked into Father B.'s lap. 'I take it you lost again, Father?' Mick said, adding a slice of lemon to my sparkling water. And Father, I'm going to strike that last moniker from the record.' I smiled generously. 'Marriage ain't what it used to be,' the priest grumbled. 'Stop being a sore loser and buy me a drink.' 'Sad thing is, she believes it, Mick.' I rolled my eyes. 'We shepherd people through life's hard times, guiding them through an emotional minefield, the voice of reason when reason is lost.' 'You and I are actually a lot alike.' He responded with a groan, which I ignored.

'Now come on, Father,' I continued, sliding onto a stool next to him and tugging my skirt so as not to flash him. Father Bruce, my longtime friend and the immensely popular pastor of the island's Catholic church, could often be found here. The good father and I were at Offshore Ale, Martha's Vineyard's finest bar, a dark and charming little place in Oak Bluffs and a favorite place for locals and tourists alike. After all my hard work, you swoop in and ruin everything.' 'You're taking it harder than I thought.' 'It's not ridiculous! It's great advice.' 'Listen to her with that ridiculous line,' he said to Mick, the bartender. 'Sometimes our hearts just need time to accept what our heads already know.'

'I know it's sad, but sometimes, divorce is just the euthanization of a dying relationship.' I patted his shoulder, then adjusted his white collar, which was just a bit off center. The man with the negative attitude sat at the bar, looking as if he was living a bad country-and-western song-no woman, broken truck, dead dog.

My one and only by kristan higgins