orbital

Cross-state drives being an inexact science, I'd arrived at Sue's house about an hour early. Sue seemed flustered as she greeted me, and Lynn looked downright guilty about something. Odd. Were they just talking about me?

I hugged Sue hello. She tried to rotate me. It was like a toddler trying to move a couch up a flight of stairs. That's when I noticed what was on her dining room table.

"Who the hell sent you a dozen roses?"

"Oh dear," Lynn said.

"No one!" Sue chirped, breaking our embrace and rushing the vase into the closet. Yeah, that ought to make me forget. I have the memory of a housefly.

I stared at Sue. She stared back. Sue was old-mule kind of stubborn. I knew I would get nothing out of her. Not unless I went for her weak spot.

"Lynn, who are the roses from?"

"A GUY IN SAN FRANCISCO SENT THEM BUT SUE'S NOT SURE IF SHE WANTS TO DATE BUT HE WON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER AND HE'S TOTALLY SWEET ON HER AND SENT HER FLOWERS TWICE BEFORE AND HE'S TRYING TO TALK HER INTO VISITING HIM NEXT WEEK."

"Thank you."

"You are seriously useless, Lynn," Sue noted, still staring at me.

I sat on the couch, processing the news aloud. "Sue. Dating."

No amount of shaking my head could disjoin those two words. "Sue. Dating."

"Dammit, I should have put them in the closet earlier." Sue said. "I knew they were going to put him into orbit."

"It seems so soon after George..." I said.

"George, my husband who died six years ago who you didn't even know? That George?"

"I am so not ready for Sue to date," I continued, as though she weren't standing right next to me. "Old people should just stay home and bake. Knit. Clean. Light candles next to pictures of George. Maybe watch some golf on TV. What they decidedly shouldn't be doing is checking the expiration dates on condom wrappers."

"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" Sue shrieked as she fled the room. I would never hear about her love life again. I like to think that was for lack of news to report.