Break A Leg |
by Shcomu |
I know I shouldn't be eavesdropping, but I can't help it. My favorite uncle is asking his wife a question. I lean onto the wall next to their room and cross my legs against the urge to pee in case I get frightened about meddling in grown-ups' business. "Where were you last night?" His voice sounds strained. I smell pipe tobacco and hear his rocking chair keeping time with my heartbeat. My mother's sister will probably concoct something believable. She is an expert. He and I wait for her answer. She clears her throat several times before she speaks. "I worked overtime last night. Just when I got ready to leave, the attorney upstairs called down to our department about billing matters. I needed the extra money. The rocker paused between beats then resumed its syncopation. "Susie, don't lie to me! I saw you last night on the Avenue! And your ass was not alone!" I wrap my arms around my thumping chest and wonder how I will untangle if one of them moves toward the door. "There is no way in hell you saw me when I was working downtown last night. Had no damn questions about that dinner I brought in for you!" Silence in the bedroom until the scrapping sound on the hardwood floor signaled movement. He is getting up; a large man with a disability. "Don't talk back to me! And don't lie to me. I told you I saw you and if I saw you, I saw you!" An eerie moment of foreboding. Then laughter. "You did that well, Sam. Really well." I hear the smile in his response. "I'm learning, but you are the pro." How could I have forgotten that the community theater had contracted them for husband-wife parts in a play? They were rehearsing. This time. |