A short story from my book Old Bones.
THE COFFEEHOUSE WINDOW Larry sat beside reminded him of sitting in his car at the carwash. Except, this wasn’t Get Wet Express. This was another rainy day in Ridgewood, at Mabel’s, on Monday, around eight-thirty in the morning, and he sat across his sister Elaine, her lined face drawn up in a smile for a moment before her naked lips pursed and she blew gently at the steam rising from her white cup. Her blue eyes twinkled despite the fact that she had lost her husband a week ago.
“Damn weather,” Larry said. He clutched his cup next to his mouth and felt the heat warm his hands and face. It did not, however, go any farther. He looked at the coffee cup next to Elaine and closed his eyes.
“We’re moving,” Elaine said.
Larry opened his eyes. Elaine grinned at him.
“Stan and I found a place in Tampa. In Florida. I hear the weather is a lot nicer there.”
“Look, Elaine,” Larry said. He felt at odds to have to tell his sister that she needed to see a doctor. She had always been the healthy one in the family. “I need you to listen to me—”
“Although I’m told they get a lot of rain in the winter. But it—”
“It beats the snow,” she said happily, “and I’m getting too old for these terrible winters here.” She glanced at the empty seat next to her. Then she signaled at the waitress behind the counter near the front door.
“We need more sugar,” she said to the teenage girl who left the counter and approached their table.
The girl, whose white blouse and red skirt seemed too large on her short and thin frame, grabbed a sugar container from the table behind Larry and brought it to Elaine with a smile.
“Thank you, honey.” Elaine grinned.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No. Thank you.”
Larry looked up at curious brown eyes.
“Sir?” the girl said.
“Uh, no, I’m good. Thanks.”
The waitress scurried back to her counter, although Larry and Elaine were the only customers in the place.
Elaine sat the sugar container next to the full coffee cup next to her. Then, “You’re welcome, dear,” she said before returning her attention to Larry.
“You were saying?” she asked.
Larry sipped at his coffee before he said, “He’s dead.”
Continue reading “Old Bones: Different Perspectives [fiction]”