Lit in Progress

Joseph was worried. There were only four members there, and the meeting started three minutes ago. He traced the first button of his jacket cuff with his forefinger absentmindedly. He wouldn’t be asked to say anything because he never was when they were making money, which they were. He pulled on his studious, attentive look which had served him well in the many years since its development during his undergraduate years. Jamie, his daughter, was at a concert with her group.

His wife – his ex-wife – was coming down to visit them in three days and four hours. On the dot. She would say that her girl had grown so much, and that Leonard should really do something about his skin. Because that was what she said.

Joseph thought about his trip to Chicago in two weeks, as he nodded to an idiotic assertion one of the board members made. Jamie had said she wanted to go with him. She was so transparent.

Although he didn’t want her to, he knew in his mind that she would talk him in to it. In point of fact, he did want her to. He just wasn’t sure he wanted her to go with him.

Joseph shrugged, twisted his neck. The jacket seemed to fit well, but the pants were still too loose in the waist. They gaped, rustled quietly, settled. The tailor’s fingers snatched and pulled, smoothed. He settled back onto his heels, listening to the sounds of fabric and fluorescent lights. Outside, the street was moving with people and cars like insects – not far away, a bluejay yammered on a dead neon sign. He thought about his car, and his daughter wrecking it. It hadn’t happened. Yet. But it would. He thought about his son and the girls he brought home. He thought about his son and the girls he didn’t. He turned his mind from these things and thought instead about Canada.