On we go with the story...
The sun creeped in cautiously, illuminating the living room furniture like the opening scene of a play, a little at a time, slowly turning up the intensity and color, revealing shapes and bringing definition to her surroundings. Then a fine, yellow-orange horizon of light appeared halfway up the living room wall, the light broadening and dissipating as the sun rose, filling the room with morning.
Jill lay on the sofa, half awake, watching the shadows change on the wall. Her head was a little heavy, but it wasn't bad enough to call a hangover. She rolled off the sofa and ambled into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, she found a bottle of aspirin, popped the top and tipped two tablets into her hand. She returned one to the bottle, tossed the other into her mouth, and looked around for a glass. Finding none, she pulled back her hair and stuck her mouth halfway under the faucet, turning on the water and taking a swig to wash down the aspirin. She straightened, splashed some water on her face, toweled dry, and sat down on the toilet.
The bathroom had two doors. One opened onto the hallway she'd just come from, though the hallway was more of a rectangular juntion that connected the bathroom, two of the bedrooms, and the living room. The other door was on the opposite end of the bathroom and led to the third bedroom: the master bedroom, where Phil was still sleeping, rather heavily from the sound of his breathing. The door was open, but even though she could look into the room from where she sat, Jill could barely make out the bed. The room was still dark. She had drawn the curtains the night before when she put Phil to bed.
She looked in the closet in the spare room and found an old bathrobe, which she wrapped around her. It was blue terry cloth, and loose strings of cotton hung from it at random points on the fabric. She straightened up the sofa and opened the curtains in the bay window, leaving the sheers drawn.
By the time she had made the coffee, she could hear movement in the bathroom. Shortly after that, Phil shuffled into the living room. She looked over her shoulder at him, and then returned to the business of hunting down cups and teaspoons. He was bleary-eyed and wearing nothing but his underwear and a white t-shirt. With the exception of the night in between, he looked almost the same as when she'd put him to bed. No, that wasn't entirely fair. He did seem a little more rested. Marginally.
"Well, good morning, Sunshine," she said. "Coffee?"
"You know I always hated your cheerfulness in the morning." Phil wandered toward the kitchen, following the smell of coffee.
"It's a great way to start the day. You should try it," Jill said
"I can never be cheerful until at least eleven."
"It's almost noon, Phil."
"Not in Hawaii."
"You're more awake than you look." She opened cupboards, closed them, opened more. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Yeah, some I guess. I kept waking up. But yeah, I suppose I slept some."
Having located the cups, Jill took two that matched and set them on the counter. "You've moved things around in here."
"Yeah. I got bored with it. I felt like a change." Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose with a finger. Then he pinched it, wincing slightly. He scowled. "Any word?"
"On what? Oh, no. But then again, what word should I be waiting for? Should I expect to suddenly hear a little voice from the cupboard?"
"You might."
"Or maybe I should turn on the radio just in case there's news."
"Jill, don't be like that."
"Or maybe you're just expecting a knock on the door."
There was a knock on the door. Jill and Phil looked at each other.
"This is the part where you answer the door."
"Oh. Yes. Right." Phil went to the door and opened it. It was Fred, the maintenance man from the supermarket.
Phil said "Hello."
"I must be going," said Fred. He looked down at Phil's state of undress, blushed, and started to turn away.
"But you've just arrived, Fred. What brings you here?"
"My legs. I walked." He glanced at Phil, glanced down, and looked immediately away. "I don't feel very comfortable speaking with you like this." He glanced at Phil again, and again he turned abruptly away.
"I don't..." Phil looked down at himself. "Ah, yes. Sorry. Just a moment. Jill?"
"Yes?" she called from the kitchen.
"Could you grab me my robe? And maybe pour another cup of coffee?"
"Okay. Why? Who is it?"
"Fred."
"Fred?" Jill returned. Her voice came from a different place behind him. She was moving now.
"Yes. Neighborhood Fred. Friendly Fred. Walking Fred."
"From the supermarket?"
"Yes," Phil said, slightly exasperated. Then it dawned on him.
"Think fast," said Jill from somewhere behind him. As he turned the robe hit him in the face.
"Thanks." He untangled the robe and threw it around him. "Fred, why don't you come in?"
Fred stepped into the house, taking off his hat gingerly, as if it were a precious crown. Phil gestured to the sofa and Fred sat down, holding the hat in both hands. Though Phil had known Fred for years and was used to his eccentricities, he had never seen Fred do anything like this. Fred set the hat delicately on the arm of the sofa. He didn't take his eyes off of it.
"Good morning, Phillip." Fred always called him Phillip. "I came here on an errand." He gestured at the hat. "I believe this is yours."
Phil moved his face closer to the hat.
"Hey!" shouted Marvin, leaping from the hat onto Phil's nose. He gave it a big squeeze.
Phil crossed his eyes and looked down his nose.
"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" He ran his finger lightly down Marvin's back. "Jill?"
"Yes?"
"He's home."
"Phil..."
"What is it?"
"How could you possibly know what Jill was doing while you were sleeping? How can you write about something you didn't see?"
"Artistic license, Marvin. Artistic license."
"I don't understand."
"It means I made it up."
No comments:
Post a Comment