Dee

Nov 2

A walk in his shoes

            Every time I come to the mall, I miss her. Every time I sit at this very table, by myself, I still smell her. I am old now, and I knew I would out live her…but sometimes I still cannot believe it. I sit at the same spot, drinking the same juice out of my Styrofoam cup every Thursday morning. I put on my tortoise shell reading glasses, and grab a paper from Louise, the food court janitor. Today, I decided to dress up. You never know what kind of opportunities can strike at the Cherry Lane mall. Ha, yeah right. Considering I am in dress pants and wearing a polo shirt underneath my favorite green sweater, I am quite comfortable. Sometimes I forget where I am, and start daydreaming. I never really read the newspaper. It depresses me. I wonder now, what my two children are doing, and if their children are having a good day at school. Suddenly looking up from my daydream, I notice there are some considerably young people amongst the rest of us seniors. I wonder what they are doing. Attending to my newspaper, I go to turn the page. My big hands do not cooperate as well as they used to. It takes me a minute, but I finally grasp the page and turn it. I scratch my white hair as I read the classifieds. “Female Escort Wanted.” That’s something you don’t see every day. Or maybe I just don’t pay much attention. The sounds of the food court seem to whir together, between the laughing and chatting of those who have friends, the beeping of monitors at the fast food stations, and the clinking of change as people pay for their coffee and meals. I wonder where my friends have gone. Maybe I should give my kids a call, and see how they’re doing. It has been roughly an hour, and I realize I should start heading home. Although I live alone, there is a hefty amount of laundry to do each day, as my cat sheds enough for twelve! Making sure nobody is looking at me; like a spy I slowly take off my reading glasses, tuck them over my shirt, and quietly shuffle out of the food court, still missing her.

Dee

Nov 2

The Chat

“Really?” I glare at Bobby.

He doesn’t even look up from that stupid newspaper he has in his hands.

After a momentary pause, he yawns “Yes, dear?” still not looking up.

“What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I am not sure what you are talking about, Ashley.”

He knows damn right what I’m talking about. “You know damn right what I’m talking about.”

            “If this is about me not coming home until late last night…I’m sorry but I told you I had a staff pa-“ at this point, I am enraged.

“I KNOW. You had a staff party. But you did EXACTLY what I told you not to do. You got stupidly drunk and drove home. You’re not a teenager any more, get over yourself! I knew I should have made you take a cab, or carpool.”

“Look,” he starts, “I know I messed up but I didn’t wreck the car, and you are exaggerating, I was not that drunk…”

“You stumbled into bed and smelled like you had been bathing in tequila.”  He knows that he is an idiot, right?

“I know I’m an idiot.”

“You were supposed to pick up milk for the kids cereal.”

Now Bobby is sheepish. “I’m in the doghouse aren’t I?”

I always get the last word. “Woof.” I sneer. And with that, I turned out the light, and went to sleep.