Reservations?

(Originally written for a short-short fiction course focusing on dialogue)

The little white man turned into a flashing yellow hand and both Veronica and Morgan stopped. The noise of the traffic couldn’t drown them out.

“I can’t get over that! What has gotten into him?”

Veronica continued with her rant, “Oh yeah, listen to this one. Yesterday I called him, like I usually do, just before I come home to let him know I am on the way and for him to know when to start making dinner. When I asked him he replied, ‘the only thing I am making for dinner is a reservation.’”

Veronica left only a brief gap in her speech, just enough for Morgan to slip in, “What a complete ass!”

“I know! He hasn’t worked in the past 4 months, and here I am working my butt off to pay OUR bills, to decrease OUR debt, to put food on OUR table and he can’t seem to get off the bloody couch to make dinner, especially this one night. I can’t afford to pay for his father’s birthday dinner at a restaurant. Why can’t he make a nice dinner?”

Veronica’s voice drowned out the traffic.

“I ask him to do laundry and his excuse is that he couldn’t figure out how to sort the clothes. I ask him to wash the dishes and yet I come home to find the pile in the sink getting bigger. I ask him to vacuum the floors and he does one room.”

Veronica stopped to catch her breath and jostle her purse back on her shoulder.

“But when I ask him what he does all day he proceeds to tell me the latest episode of Oprah and how to visualize my stress away.”

A car passes with two young guys who can’t pass up the opportunity to honk. Morgan smiles back, but Veronica, completely oblivious.

“Or he says, ‘I walked the dog and we had a great run at the beach for almost 4 hours.’ I just don’t know Morg, do I call it quits? Do I tell him how I feel? But why should I tell him how I feel all the time? I am sure he knows how I feel.”

“Christ!” Missing the crack in the pavement Veronica’s left sling-back got caught and snapped off the 2-inch heel.

“Damn, I just bought these." She picked up the heel from the sidewalk and clasped it in her hand.

"Cheap bastards! Oh well, only one more block to go.”

The two continued to walk, Veronica on one heel and one tippy-toe.

“Anyway, what do you think Morgan, I could really use some advice. Any ideas, feedback, comments, anything. Arggh, goddamn shoes.”

Morgan just followed along and was thankful they had reached Veronica’s condo.

“Well, here I am and back to the mayhem. I wonder what my ‘mister’ did today. Or perhaps I should say what he didn’t do. I suppose I will get the synopsis of the Oprah show, and with any luck I’ll get some advice on how to improve this god awful relationship or maybe some ways to remember my spirit. Anyway, thanks for the talk Morgan.”

And even before Morgan could say good-bye, Veronica flew into the lobby and was gone.