Lit in Progress

Flo held the storm door open with her shoulder. With plastic bags of groceries hanging like bat wings from her arms, she jiggled the key in the lock until the knob turned. Her entry sounded like static over a cell phone, and jingle bells from Christmas-time department stores, and the cheering of die-hard fans at a losing college football game. “How you doin’, hun?” she asked her grey cat Roger, eyes laughing from behind plastic glasses at the way he sprawled on his back, looking like a dog.

Flo’s tanned hands moved slowly over the keys of her old upright, working through a Dixie Chicks song note by note. She mouthed the words as her fingertips pressed the keys; she didn’t hear Marienne come in and was startled to see her sit down out of the corner of her eye.

Marienne looked small sitting in the cordoroy-covered chair. Flo smiled toothily over her shoulder and finished the chorus. She turned, swinging her legs over the bench like cranes.

“How’s it goin’, kiddo?” she asked, leaning forward, her hands on her knees.

“Okay I guess.” Pause. “I spent the day at the bookstore. I saw Lenore again. She’s, she’s nice. Do you know her?”

“Yeah, we go to the same church, Lenore and me. She’s sweet, huh? I wonder when she’s due.”

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“What do you say to going out tonight,” Flo asked, her hair swinging as she tilted her head to one side.