A Movie With Shannon

“I’m starving,” John said. He put his suit jacket on the back of the wing chair. A damp breeze fluttered through the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“I didn’t make anything,” Linda replied. She paused her Netflix show and put down a bag of chips. One of the actors was frozen in a grimace. She glanced at her watch. 8:13. “Since I didn’t know what time you’d be home.”

“I see.” He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. She hated it when he rolled his sleeves like that. Linda noticed one of the buttons was missing. She wondered if she kept the extra.

He strode through their living room, walking past Linda on the sofa. He went into the kitchen, and she followed. He sat down at the kitchen table.

“I’ll make something now, if you want,” Linda said. She stared at the back of his head. His summer highlights were fading, and his hair was a bit unkempt. She made lasagna on Thursdays, but that would take too long. She grabbed last night’s dinner. “We have plenty of meatloaf left.”

“That’s fine.”  He took out his cell phone, texting something.

“The historical society had a meeting today. We decided on a new fundraiser.  Selling cookies.” She took a hair tie off of her wrist and did up a ponytail.

John didn’t look up.

“I said, ‘If the Girl Scouts can sell all those cookies, we can, too!’ and everyone laughed.”

John looked up for a moment, and then he bent his head down to text something more.

“And one of the other board members, he runs a pizza shop in town, he got us a vendor. The bakery next door to him. To bake all the cookies.”

John swiped at his phone. From where she was standing, Linda couldn’t see what he was doing.

“John?” Linda paused.

John continued typing on his phone.

“John!”

John looked up at his wife.

“How was work today?”

“Busy,” John replied. His phone’s screen lit up.

“They are working you too hard.” Linda made several thin slices.

“It’s fine.”

“All this overtime will be nice,” Linda said, as she diced the cucumbers. She hacked at them, her arm swinging up and down. “Maybe, maybe we could take a vacation when it calms down.”

“Our client wants a lot of last-minute changes.” John looked at the phone. Linda caught a smile as his fingers typed something.

“I see,” Linda said. “It’s just, it’s just that you’ve been gone for a while now.”

“You heating up that meatloaf?”

“I’m making sandwiches. With the cucumber-dill dressing that you like.”

“Great.”

“But we ran out of bread, so I’m putting it on a dinner roll.”

“That’s fine.”

“I don’t see why they can’t get you dinner,” Linda said.

“What?”

“Dinner. Since you have to put in all those extra hours.”

“I’ll suggest it,” John said. He glanced back at her, and she thought she saw a brief look of irritation. But she could have imagined it.

“But it’s fine, I am making these sandwiches.” She tossed the knife into the sink, and it clattered against the metal.

“Do you always have to be so loud when you cook?” John asked.

Linda paused. “If you don’t like how I cook, then maybe you should make your own sandwich.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sorry, nothing,” Linda said. “So what kind of changes do they need?”

“I’d like some of that potato salad you made a few nights ago.”

“Okay.”

“And a pickle,” he said. The cell phone lit up again.

“Okay. What do you want to drink?”

“A beer.” 

“You really should answer that text message,” Linda said, as she rummaged through the refrigerator. “Could be some more last-minute changes.”

“It’s fine,” John said.

“I see,” Linda said. “So, who else is on this project with you?”

“Just a bunch of people from the office,” John said. He resumed text messaging.

“What about that girl Kelly?”

“What about her?”

“Is she on that project with you, too?”

“Is that meatloaf sandwich ready?” John asked. No mistaking it this time. John was irritated. He always got cranky when he was hungry.

Linda set the plate and a beer in front of him and sat down. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Is she on the project with you?”

“Who?”

“The girl Kelly,” Linda replied.

“You forgot the pickle.”

“You need to text me if you’re going to be late,” Linda said.

“Whatever. Where’s my pickle?”

“I’m going out tonight. With Shannon.”

“Right now? It’s 8:30. And who’s Shannon?”

“You didn’t come home last night until I was in bed.  I figured you wouldn’t care if I made plans. Since you’re not going to be home anyway.

John sighed, and he put down his phone. He opened to his mouth to say something.

“She invited me over to watch a movie. After her kids went to bed.”

“I’m not okay with that,” John said.

 “I really don’t care,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, if you don’t like it, then I really don’t care.” Linda got up, stood over him.

“Are you really going to start a fight right now? I just got home. I’m tired.” John picked up his fork.

“I know. With your project. Last minute changes.” Linda got a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, opened it, and drank the entire bottle.

“How did you meet this Shannon?” John asked once she was finished.

Linda rummages through the utensil drawer and got a fork. She sat back down. “Why can’t you text me if you’re going to be late?”

“Is she on the historical society committee with you?”  John’s face was flushed.

“Who?”

“This girl Shannon. The one you’re going to the movies with.” He put down his fork with a clatter.

“Are you going to eat?” she asked, as she stabbed a potato off of his plate and ate it.

“Are you going to answer me?” John’s face was pinched. He tracked her movements, eating his potato salad.

“It’s fine,” Linda said. 

“I asked, are you going to answer me?”

“About what?”

“Is Shannon on the historical society with you?”

“What does it matter if she is on the historical society with me? Yes, she’s on the board. She owns her own business, John. A woman who owns her own business. And she raises her kids by herself. Her husband died.” Linda stabbed another potato.

“Stop eating my food!”

“There’s plenty of potato salad left.” Linda said. “So, tell me, is Kelly on this project with you?”