fiction by Charles Innes
The silverware clattered as I pulled forks, knives, and spoons out of the kitchen drawer and carried them to the dining room. Carefully, I laid out three place settings. Jerry would be home soon, and then, my sweet boy would be, too. What was his name again? Michael. How could I forget that? My sweet Michael would be home soon. I barely saw him anymore now that he had moved to … Chicago. Or was it Philadelphia? Michael was all grown up, working in the big city. I was happy for him, but without a child in the house, it got quite boring––especially when Jerry wasn’t around. Jerry was always visiting some doctor for God knows what. Sure, he wasn’t as healthy 84
The Talon 2022
as I was, but he still moved pretty well for an older fellow. Jerry never sat with me while I needlepointed, and he barely read the newspaper anymore. He bought one of those gadgets that everybody had nowadays, always peering into that little glowing box. Chicago. It had to be Chicago; Michael always loved pizza. Anyway, Jerry wasn’t around much. Humming one of those Beatles songs––I could never remember those pesky words––I opened the oven to check on the turkey. I took a big sniff and smiled. The minty scent of rosemary complement-
ed the onion and garlic. Michael would love it. I closed the oven; the turkey needed a few more minutes. I opened the refrigerator and checked on the pumpkin pie, another one of Michael’s favorites. I needed to put it in the oven right when dinner started so it would finish baking just as we started dessert. The jingling of keys sounded from the front porch. Moments later I heard the key insert into the lock and the door swing open. “Madi!” Jerry called from the hall. “I’m back from the pharmacy.” So that’s where he was. I hadn’t
