I'm setting this thing to go off on Monday.
Mary,” says Glen, walking into the kitchen. “How was your day?” she
responds with a kiss. The kiss was the suggestion of a therapist they
saw a few years ago, the solution to the awkward and often resentful
reunions they were having. “The kiss” was a Band-Aid on their bruises
that reminded them to be gentle with each other. It worked in those
moments, but they also could have used a pitcher of margaritas for
whomever broke down and did the dishes first, expensive gifts for Glen
who always took out the trash, and oral sex for Mary who cleaned toilets
she never herself dirtied.
was just about to fix dinner. Have you eaten?” Mary asks staring into
the fridge. “No. I haven’t,” Glen replies, taking the plastic ware
out of his lunch bag and placing it in the sink. “We’ve got that pasta
and salad meal, I know. That’s easy.” “That doesn’t sound very
exciting, but I don’t really care too much,” Mary quips. Glen puts on
the water and sets the whole wheat spirals and colander on the counter.
“I’ll go get us some cherry tomatoes.” Mary puts some pre-made salad
mix on a couple plates and set out the olives, feta, and olive oil
before going into their room to change.
isn’t home, so they break their “No Eating in Front of the TV” rule
before Mary knits and Glen reads, both with the TV on. Sunday is the
only night with “TV worth watching,” as that fellow on NPR puts it, but
neither of them welcomes what would fill the silence turning the TV off
would create. There is still another hour of sunlight, and Glen knows
he should go weed his garden, but that thought doesn’t sound very
appealing. Still, he goes outside.
Mary isn’t sure her plan to knit all the hats and scarves, maybe even an actual sweater, that she bought yarn for before last Christmas is really as good a way to spend her summer vacation as she thought even last week, but she isn’t anywhere near ready to be thinking about next year’s syllabus and she needs something to distract her from thinking of Christina.
2 hours ago