Sprawled diagonally across the bed, Peg watched the ceiling fan whirl off-kilter. The long stem of the fan wobbled.
This doesn’t look safe. If it falls, it will kill me. Who would know? No one will miss me for days.
On the chair next to the bed, Nipper watched her watch the fan. “Why should we get up?” She lifted her knees and shoved her feet back under the sheets. “This is luxury, lounging in bed. No early-morning walk to jam in before the job. No alarm. No reason to make a pot of coffee – just for me. Unless you would like some? No, don’t get started, it’s an addiction.” The dog cocked his head sideways as she spoke.
“I wonder how they are doing at the old office. I gave them my number in case they had any questions. Maybe I should call them to check in.” She lifted the blanket and sat up. Anticipating some action, Nipper sat up too. “No, they would have called if they needed help. It went fine during the transition.” She plopped back down on the bed. The dog slumped over his paws. Peg looked at the clock.
Nine thirty here… so eight thirty in Chicago. Trudy’ll be back from their walk before work.
She reached for the computer.
“He’s gone where?” The computer screen showed the empty chair, where Trudy’s face should have been.
“Cuba. But only for a week or so.” Peg analyzed the video image of herself that split the screen. She took the rubber band from her wrist and pulled her frizzy hair back in a ponytail. Changing her mind, she shook her hair out of the band and fluffed it with her fingers. Not satisfied, she gathered it into a bun on the top of her head.Ugh. She hit the key to disable her videoconferencing camera. Problem solved. “Can you hear me? What are you doing?”
“I’m putting my socks on.” Trudy’s head popped up and her face appeared on the screen. “Why can’t I see you?”
“I turned off my camera. It’s for your own good.”
“Yes. I have very high fashion standards, as you know.” Trudy pushed her nose up in the air with her pointer finger and crossed her eyes. “What a wad. He’s left you by yourself already? What about I’ll work from home. We’ll be together? BS. What is he doing in Cuba? Fraternizing with Fidel?”
“Fidel is dead, Trudy.”
“Whatever.”
“He’s consulting for a start-up. I’m sure that this is a one-time thing. It’s only for a week or so.”
“He moved you there and now you’re alone. Jesus, I’ve had bad perms that lasted longer than that.”
“It’s okay. I have stuff to do.”
“Like what? Walk the dog. Then what? Thanks to Clark, you don’t have a job anymore, remember? You’ve unpacked that tiny house. You don’t have any friends there… Are you still in bed?”
Peg checked to make sure the camera icon on the screen was still crossed off. She hustled out of bed.
“No!”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“Catch up on reading.”
“Then what?”
“Clean the house. Do yard work.”
“Every day?”
“Walk the dog again… I don’t know. I’m figuring it out.”
“It seems to me you shoulda done that before you moved.” Trudy paused. Her voice quieted. “I miss you and Nipper. I cry every day when we drive past your house. I’m never going to get over this.”
“I miss you and Tucker too.” Peg’s eyes watered.
“Okay. I gotta go to work. Let’s talk later.” Trudy looked away from the camera.
“Okay. Bye.”
Trudy disconnected the signal. Peg looked at the frozen screenshot of Trudy’s profile.
“Not the same as playing with them in person, is it?”
Nipper agreed.
Hi. I’ve tried to call, but there is absolutely no cell phone reception for international calls. The Internet is a joke too. They need so much help getting this set up. Right now I’m standing on a street corner with hundreds of other people trying to get a signal. I’ve attached a picture of where I am. Check it out. It’s crazy. It’s like New Year’s Eve at Times Square. The people here are very nice and ready to learn but I underestimated how much work it will be to set this up. It’s like caveman times. Looks like I’ll have to stay here for at least a couple of weeks, maybe more. I hope you get this. I’ve been dropped three times already. I’ll try to email again as soon as I can. Email me back with news. Love you and Nipper.
Peg opened the attachment with a picture of Clark in a crowd of dark-skinned, young Cubans huddled in masses around their phones. He had a “see, I told you” smile on his face with his palms held up, as if the crowd was on display. She clicked off the computer screen and began to pace the room.
Two weeks? Maybe longer? No communication? Oh, stop being such a wimp. Do you think anyone will feel sorry for you in your house in Key West? I know, but this doesn’t feel like a second honeymoon by myself. Stop.
Peg picked up the calendar propped up on the desk. Above the month of June there was a picture of a smiling man stranded on an island, drinking out of a coconut. The message under the photo read, “Life is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it.”
Right, smile now, Mr. Man. Do you know that coconuts can kill you in a storm? I’m 100% sure you’re not gonna react too well to an 80-mile-per-hour coconut to the head.
She happy-faced the day on the calendar when Clark would return and looked past the condensation on the kitchen windows.
Getting dark. More rain soon.
Her phone buzzed. Her heart leapt. She swiped the device. “Do you want to consolidate your credit?”
Ugh.
Peg tossed her cell phone onto the couch. “I guess I don’t need to carry this around with me.”
Nipper lifted his head at the possibility of something being thrown for him.
“Okay, let’s go for a walk.”
Saturday: Peg and Nipper stood next to the sticky door waiting for the rain to stop.
Sunday: Peg and Nipper sat next to the swollen door waiting for the rain to stop.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: Peg and Nipper lay on the floor next to the stuck door waiting for the rain to stop.