Summer Morning, Summer Night (Green Town 4)

“Strange, neither am I.”

“But, we’ll go to a picture later tonight?”

“Of course!”

They sat munching cheese and some stale crackers like mice in the dark.

Seven o’clock.

“Do you know,” he said, “I’m beginning to feel just a trifle queasy?”

“Oh?”

“Back aches.”

“Why don’t I just rub it for you?”

“Thanks. Elma, you’ve got fine hands. You understand how to massage; not hard, not soft—but just right.”

“My feet are burning,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to that film tonight.”

“Some other night,” he said.

“I wonder if something was wrong with that cheese? Heartburn.”

“Did you notice, too?”

They looked at the bottles on the table.

Seven-thirty. Seven-forty-five o’clock.

“Almost eight o’clock.”

“John!” “Elma!”

They had both spoken at once.

They laughed, startled.

“What is it?”

“You go ahead.”

“No, you first!”

They fell silent, listening and watching the clock, their hearts beating fast and faster. Their faces were pale.

“I think I’ll take a little peppermint oil for my stomach,” said Mr. Alexander.

“Hand me the spoon when you’re done,” she said.

They sat smacking their lips in the dark, with only the one small moth-bulb lit.

Tickety-tickety-tick-tick-tick.

They heard footsteps on their sidewalk. Up the front porch stairs. The bell ringing.

They both stiffened.