Cool Tuesday

Jenny. First you tell Barbara and me that you can't write dialogue, and then you write this scene in the priest's office. Now I know you can write dialogue.

Packing a suitcase: It was a good old suitcase. Still in okay condition. The locks and the clasps all worked just fine. Hollace was putting in a handful of boxer shorts, fitting them in the corner next to his tee-shirts. There on the bed was a bunch of socks.

Jeanine called out from the living room. "How're you coming with that suitcase?" Hollace noticed a sulky edge in her voice. He wished that she would have come into the room before saying anything.

"A few minutes yet," he said. "Just a few minutes." He wanted to get out of this place in the worst way, but he wasn't going to be rushed. Just cool your jets, he thought, making his mouth go tight and grim. The vacation had gone badly. The family picnic, which was never easy, had degenerated into name-calling and humiliating handshakes. It wasn't his fault, dammit. No way was he going to cave this time. Nor was Hollace looking forward to the long drive back. Not in Friday traffic. Not with gas so expensive. And Winnetka was going through a record heat-wave. There were rolling blackouts, exhausted people were gathering in high school gymnasiums for a little relief. No, this vacation had gone right into the toilet. So just cool your jets.

Hollace folded over his sweaty shirts and laid them in the suitcase. Then he stuffed the socks in around the edge and closed it up. Hollace glanced around the room with the dumb clown painting and the broken air conditioner. He walked the suitcase out into the tiny living room. Jeanine was standing at the window, staring out across the highway. Big, threatening clouds were hanging up in the sky.

"I think we're in for some rain," she said.

"Yeah, maybe we can drive though it," he said, opening the door, walking out. But that was the last thing he said. The Riviera was tilting at this very slight angle and he knew. The tire was flat.

Bob ;-)