Ahoy David P. Miller

Kitchen Table

Matthew Downing

Alexa cranked up the heat; she’d been sitting in her idling Prius, blocking the crosswalk in front of Walmart, for 15 minutes. A whooshing wind swirled fat snow droplets around the shivering, red faces of three sniveling kids out shopping with their mom.

He’s only late on the days I pick him up, Alexa thought.

Ungrateful patients on her afternoon shift at Loyola Medical had left her feeling like she could slug the next person that called her sweetheart. She was regretting telling her father she’d work extra shifts to pay for an apartment during grad school. Tom had already said he’d cover tuition, and she was sure he’d have covered rent too.

An impatient shopper crept up to her bumper and laid on their horn.

“Drive around me, you ass,” Alexa shouted.

Smirking, she scrolled through her favorite witch personalities on TikTok. One self-proclaimed witch gave a tutorial on how to grow an extra ear out of your hip. Alexa shook her head, bouncing her black, braided hair against her stained nursing uniform.

“These people need professional help,” she snorted.

The passenger door opened, and Derrick collapsed onto the seat next to her; he looked like he’d barely survived a day in the trenches on the Western Front. Even exhausted, his cherubic face and hazel eyes made Alexa smile. Derrick heard the end of the TikTok video and groaned.

“This shit again; I promise you she is trying to sell you something. Culture is truly dead, babe. Unless we want to discuss the latest Marvel movie, all we have left in this broken society is buying the latest influencer’s bullshit. Then, once little Johnny buys, he can share it on social media for all his friends to see.”

Too embarrassed to admit she liked Marvel movies, Alexa ignored her boyfriend’s rant. She’d already tossed her Starbucks cup onto a snowbank to avoid another lecture on corporate coffee consumerism. Instead, she tried to steer the inevitable fight onto her turf.

“If they’re going to make you stay late, the least you could do is text me.” Derrick ripped off his face mask and hung it over Alexa’s mask on the rearview Title “You won’t believe my day, babe Jake keeps making me stay late to scrub the rotisserie clean. I keep reminding him I had back surgery six months ago. Still, heaven Author forbid employee-of-the-century Riley has to do manual labor.”

The car slid across the icy parking lot as Alexa stuck her head out the window to try to see the turning lane through the blizzard.

“I’m serious, babe,” Derrick continued. “It really is—”

“The hardest job you’ve ever had,” Alexa finished for him.

Derrick had been working at Walmart for a month, and he never let a day go by without complaining about it. He’d been fired from his marketing job at the start of the pandemic, and he was too stubborn to let Alexa’s father loan him money until he could find another job in his field.

“You know how many of those mouth-breathing assholes had their masks around their chins today? I mean, how does it make sense for me to die so Ricky Bobby can get a half-pound of salami? If I’m essential, why don’t I get an hourly hazard pay?”

Parallel parking on the curb in front of Derrick’s dilapidated apartment complex, Alexa made another attempt at picking a fight. She knew recognizing her bad moods wasn’t Derrick’s strong suit, but she needed to let out her day’s pent-up steam.

“Mmmhmm. My day was fine; thanks for asking me, babe,” she murmured sarcastically .

Derrick leaned forward with a mocking grin.

“How was your day, my queen?”

Alexa felt her neck relax as he brushed his finger over her collarbone. She rested her head on his broad shoulder.

“It was whatever, I just wanted you to ask,” she sighed.

At 22, there were advantages to dating a man ten years her senior. She’d met Derrick at a party, where he’d been her friend’s weed hookup. He wasn’t financially stable, and his ADHD gave people the impression he lacked maturity, but he had the relationship wisdom of a man who’d dated countless men and women in their twenties.

“What else can I do for you, love?” he asked, more genuinely this time.

“I thought I’d make that salmon you have in the freezer for dinner; then, maybe we can watch a Netflix movie?” Alexa suggested.

Showering Alexa in kisses, Derrick fervently agreed. They both knew watching a movie meant Derrick was guaranteed sex. Alexa wasn’t in the mood, but she could fake a fast finish with better vocals than a soprano at an opera if it meant Derrick would cuddle

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