Post by Nott on Jul 20, 2021 18:32:49 GMT -8
“Hey-”
“Greg. Greg. Just say good morning. I swear to god, I’m begging you.”
“Morning, Olive.”
“Thank you.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. The tall, square man tucked his thumbs into his beltloops and looked down, studying Nott’s sharp-toed shoes as he considered his options. She knew it was coming but she couldn’t get the door open fast enough.
“Do-”
“Fucking- Greg. I will not follow your wife for you. I’m not a PI, I’m not some kind of- some kind of- stalker for hire. I am a journalist.” She drew herself up, gesturing from the top of her head down to the rest of her as if saying, ‘look at me, me, a professional.’ “I understand your concerns, I really do, but I am not out here looking to be booked for- for- there’s no way to justify it. Man. I can’t do it. And if you don’t stop asking I will start sprinting away everytime I see you. It’ll break my heart, but I will fucking- fly away from you if that’s what it takes to make you understand I’m serious.”
“No, I get it, I get it, I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m…” He trailed off, eyes still fixed on the ground as if it might offer up some answers.
“I know, I know, I know. I know. But honey. Baby. If you can’t talk to her about this, what- what are you doing. It’s a marriage, you gotta be able to talk to each other.” The lock finally clicked and Nott kicked the bottom right, thrust with her left hand, and hip checked the poorly aligned door open. Backing through it with her groceries, the Wizened shook her head placatingly and started to close the door. “It’s sexy, to want to know people. Start there!”
The door clicked shut in his unconvinced face and she wasn’t shy about turning the bolt. Kicking off her modest heels and straightening them in their space, she trudged toward the kitchen. She didn’t need to follow his wife to be almost certain she was cheating on him, she’d known pretty much from the first time they’d met. But when he was upset Greg drank, and yelled, and broke things- and she was still counting on him to help pick up that mattress.
Sliding the groceries into the fridge according to an invisible grid, she arranged everything in terms of what meal they were meant for and when; vegetables, proteins, dairy all mixed together, back to front. An internal logic that defied outside expectations.
“What do you need a mattress that big for! It’s just you! Not even a hot piece on the weekends. Please, you’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing me. I’m 65 and my phone don’t stop ringing, what’s your excuse!”
“Holy shit, Maria, is that what I’ve been hearing? Text me if you need help getting your hip back in socket. Jesus.”
Maria backed into her apartment with her middle finger held high, but the twinkle in her eye told Nott they were still on for drinks later. There was no better source of gossip in the complex, and she usually had a bottle of something good open.
“Okay, he’ll be by Tuesday sometime after 3.”
“Tuesday doesn’t work for me, I won’t be home.”
“You don’t need to be there, ma’am. If you give permission to enter we can have everything fixed before you get back, you won’t even know we were there.”
“The thing is... I will know. I’ve got this thing, let’s say I’m anxious, about people being in my home when I’m not there. I know your guy, he’s very nice, but I need to be home when this happens.”
“Of course, ma’am, we can find a better time. Just to let you know, trying to match schedules may create a delay in our services.”
“I get that, I do.”
“Okay, let’s see what we can do.”
After a tortured exchange of dates, times, windows and availability, Nott was satisfied. The man on the other end of the line took a breath, a beat to center himself, and asked, “And to verify, as far as you can tell it just stopped working?”
“Yes,” she replied decisively, looking up at the light fixture she’d knocked partially out of the ceiling trying to maneuver the mattress on her own.
Few people were invited in to her home, and setting up a bed with ‘worried his wife was having sex with other people’ Greg was out of the question. Absolute disaster waiting to happen.
“Okay, ma’am, we’ve got that scheduled for you. Was there anything else?” Nott thought she could hear a touch of dread in his voice, and drew in a thoughtful breath.
“...No, I’m set, thanks.” The relief on the other end was almost palpable and he hurried through the appropriate niceties so he could finally hang up.
The Wizened looked down at the phone with a satisfied smirk, and headed for the fridge.
“Greg. Greg. Just say good morning. I swear to god, I’m begging you.”
“Morning, Olive.”
“Thank you.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. The tall, square man tucked his thumbs into his beltloops and looked down, studying Nott’s sharp-toed shoes as he considered his options. She knew it was coming but she couldn’t get the door open fast enough.
“Do-”
“Fucking- Greg. I will not follow your wife for you. I’m not a PI, I’m not some kind of- some kind of- stalker for hire. I am a journalist.” She drew herself up, gesturing from the top of her head down to the rest of her as if saying, ‘look at me, me, a professional.’ “I understand your concerns, I really do, but I am not out here looking to be booked for- for- there’s no way to justify it. Man. I can’t do it. And if you don’t stop asking I will start sprinting away everytime I see you. It’ll break my heart, but I will fucking- fly away from you if that’s what it takes to make you understand I’m serious.”
“No, I get it, I get it, I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m…” He trailed off, eyes still fixed on the ground as if it might offer up some answers.
“I know, I know, I know. I know. But honey. Baby. If you can’t talk to her about this, what- what are you doing. It’s a marriage, you gotta be able to talk to each other.” The lock finally clicked and Nott kicked the bottom right, thrust with her left hand, and hip checked the poorly aligned door open. Backing through it with her groceries, the Wizened shook her head placatingly and started to close the door. “It’s sexy, to want to know people. Start there!”
The door clicked shut in his unconvinced face and she wasn’t shy about turning the bolt. Kicking off her modest heels and straightening them in their space, she trudged toward the kitchen. She didn’t need to follow his wife to be almost certain she was cheating on him, she’d known pretty much from the first time they’d met. But when he was upset Greg drank, and yelled, and broke things- and she was still counting on him to help pick up that mattress.
Sliding the groceries into the fridge according to an invisible grid, she arranged everything in terms of what meal they were meant for and when; vegetables, proteins, dairy all mixed together, back to front. An internal logic that defied outside expectations.
——————
“What do you need a mattress that big for! It’s just you! Not even a hot piece on the weekends. Please, you’re embarrassing yourself. You’re embarrassing me. I’m 65 and my phone don’t stop ringing, what’s your excuse!”
“Holy shit, Maria, is that what I’ve been hearing? Text me if you need help getting your hip back in socket. Jesus.”
Maria backed into her apartment with her middle finger held high, but the twinkle in her eye told Nott they were still on for drinks later. There was no better source of gossip in the complex, and she usually had a bottle of something good open.
——————
“Okay, he’ll be by Tuesday sometime after 3.”
“Tuesday doesn’t work for me, I won’t be home.”
“You don’t need to be there, ma’am. If you give permission to enter we can have everything fixed before you get back, you won’t even know we were there.”
“The thing is... I will know. I’ve got this thing, let’s say I’m anxious, about people being in my home when I’m not there. I know your guy, he’s very nice, but I need to be home when this happens.”
“Of course, ma’am, we can find a better time. Just to let you know, trying to match schedules may create a delay in our services.”
“I get that, I do.”
“Okay, let’s see what we can do.”
After a tortured exchange of dates, times, windows and availability, Nott was satisfied. The man on the other end of the line took a breath, a beat to center himself, and asked, “And to verify, as far as you can tell it just stopped working?”
“Yes,” she replied decisively, looking up at the light fixture she’d knocked partially out of the ceiling trying to maneuver the mattress on her own.
Few people were invited in to her home, and setting up a bed with ‘worried his wife was having sex with other people’ Greg was out of the question. Absolute disaster waiting to happen.
“Okay, ma’am, we’ve got that scheduled for you. Was there anything else?” Nott thought she could hear a touch of dread in his voice, and drew in a thoughtful breath.
“...No, I’m set, thanks.” The relief on the other end was almost palpable and he hurried through the appropriate niceties so he could finally hang up.
The Wizened looked down at the phone with a satisfied smirk, and headed for the fridge.