“So how was your day, hon?”
Jason thought about how to answer. It would be a very dull account.
“I’ll try to make it sound fascinating. I watched TV. I made lunch. Then I ate it while watching TV. I sat on the veranda with the ceiling fan on. I listened to the birds sing...”
“Sounds productive,” said Marianne, pointedly insincere.
“Yeah, I know. I just don’t know what else to do with myself.”
Marianne collapsed onto the sofa in the living room. She was resplendent, even in her gray cut-off sweats and white lounging tank.
“You coulda made dinner!”
Jason turned to the kitchen. “I still could. What d’ya fancy, madame?”
“We could order out.”
“Or order in?”
“Does it matter?”
“It only matters what we order.”
They conferred on places to call, and when the food came they ate together in the kitchen. They filled in the unanswered blanks about the day they'd spent apart. Jason’s story was retold verbatim.
“You need a hobby, Jason. Badly.”
He laughed noncommittally. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. But don’t you go crazy? I would, unless I had something to do with all that free time. I can’t remember the last time I was in your shoes.”
"Oh, so now you're wearing my shoes?""I might. We are the same size."
“True. So, don’t you have any vacation time saved up?”“You bet I do. But I’m going to keep saving it until I really need it. I’m not quite burnt out yet.”
“Me neither. I feel like I should go back to work myself. I’m just wasting time here.”
“So why don’t you?”
The fork in Jason’s hand swiveled around the plate, attracting little motes of food. He shrugged.
“I’d rather just... you know... relax.”
“Well that’s fine. You don’t need to fill all the empty hours. It was only a suggestion.”
“I appreciate it, baby. I think I’m fine.”
Marianne smiled suggestively.
“So you’d rather relax, hmm?” she purred.
End, pt. IV