And So He Goes -- short story

  And so he goes

“I told you. The glasses go on that side. This row is for the cups. The small bowls go up the middle.”

“What’s the difference? They wash anyway.”

“That makes it easier to take them out.”

“If you say so.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8.

“Look, she’s your mother. I wouldn’t expect you to go see mine every goddam day. Besides, she never liked me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll pass on your regards. I may not be back in time to make you lunch, though, so fend.”

“I’ll go for dim sum.”  

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8.

“You’ve set it for 74. That’s fine for you. For your office. But mine is sweltering. I can’t breathe. Why don’t we set it at 71 and you can wear a fleece.”

“But I’m so cold. Look, I’m shivering. It’s our big windows. Great view, but it lets out the heat.”

“So let’s compromise. 72, right?”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8.

“You put my Keith Haring socks in the dryer again. They’re shrinking.”

“Sorry. I forgot. Anyway, if you’d cut your toenails they’d last longer.”

“I’m not talking holes. It’s the shrinking. You never pull out my socks for the dryer.”

“I forgot. Maybe you might do your laundry sometime.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8.

“I already sent them a donation. I did it online. Two hundred bucks. That’s enough for us.”

“Well, I didn’t know that. Anyway, they took the trouble to phone. I felt I had to give them something.”

“So long as they don’t expect that much next year.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8.

“So if you don’t like my garlic sausage, my pickled herring, don’t the hell eat it.”

“I don’t. But the smell. I wish you’d just eat it when I’m not here.”

“So we’ll have separate meals. Fine.”

“That’s not the point. Besides, there are effects. I have to live with it. And you know that it gives you gas. The smell. I have to live with it.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8. 

“Excuse me. It slipped out.”

“Jesus! That was loud! I almost dropped the plate.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Other people control their sneezes. I don’t know why you can’t. Look: I’m still shaking.”

“It’s the human condition.”

“Well, your condition anyway.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8. 

“The lamb shoulder was on sale. Half off. Not previously frozen. Couldn’t resist.”

“But it’s so tough. And there’s so little meat on it. You want lamb, get a chop. A loin. I could make an osso bucco. Even meatballs. This is just bone and gristle. I’ll do what I can but remember — next time — the sale price isn’t everything.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. She slept — unbroken — till 8. 

“It starts at 7. Let’s leave by 6:30.”

“But it’s 10, maybe 15, minutes from here.”

“You can’t trust the traffic. The bridge may be up. Better early than late.”

“But we don’t have to be there at the beginning anyway. There’ll be enough food.”

“I just don’t like being late. It’s disrespectful.”

“So you’d rather wait in the car for 10 minutes.”

“I respect other people. They said start at 7; we should make sure we’re there at 7.”

At 4:30 he said he was popping out to the deli for bagels. Poppy, for breakfast.

When he hadn’t returned by 10, when the National came on, she knew he was gone. “Like a long-legged fly upon the stream,” she mused, before drifting off. She slept — unbroken — till 8.