[RF] What to do?

Ryan was having his breakfast. He spooned the last corn grits from the plate and drank water from his cup. He reclined in his chair and looked in the window. A white mutt was rolling on its back in the sun. It would stop and close its eyes. Then roll again.

“So I go out to the backyard, lay her the soup in the bowl. She comes out of the doghouse. The black is there, too,” she laughed. “She came down to eat and ran back inside. He did not move, though.” His mother held her cup of coffee with both her hands and watched the dog roll in the sun. Ryan took another sip of his water, brought one of his legs under the seat, and yawned. 

“My jacket is still wet. What am I going to wear?” she kept speaking from the other side of the table. “I’ve got to cook for you before I go. What do we have?” she walked to the fridge and checked it. She looked and found the vegetable compartment and looked into the freezer. “Hmm, no beef, no chicken.” She went back to her seat and held her cup to her mouth. Ryan could see that she frowned and watched the dog on the street again. 

“What to do, what to do? she repeated to herself. “There is this job out of town. You look after an old woman. They pay daily. But you have to stay with her the whole week. Sunday off. That’s not bad. You save on transport.

“So what do you think?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t know,” she looked around, still holding her cup, her eyes thinking. She took a sip and said, “I won’t be home for the whole week.”

“Well, we can take care of ourselves, if that’s the problem?” he said. She looked behind herself into the living room. The big flat TV played pictures in the dark. 

“Did I tell you? He bought these therapeutic insoles that cost a hundred. What was he even thinking? He never listens when I tell. He’d rather listen to anyone else,” she shook her head. “He does not even know if they help? He says this guy wears them, and it has helped him. I don’t believe any of that,” she said.

Ryan waited until she finished, stood up, and went into the kitchen. He came back with a kettle and filled his cup. He could see his mother sigh before she moved on. “He once said that his father never listened to his mother. He hated that, but now he does it himself. Is he getting old? she asked someone else. Ryan was sipping his water and watching outside. Then he looked at her when he heard the question. She looked away into the living room. They could see him propping his head with a pillow on the couch. He grunted, and she nodded to herself. 

“When we got married, he came with Uncle John. He told me later he wasn’t sure, so he asked John to come over and see me. As we sat drinking tea, he kept looking at John. John was speaking most of the time. He was younger, but he had married and even divorced, so he knew the game,” she said. She stood up and watched something in the window. She had her hands on her face; her elbows propped against the windowsill. She stared outside, but Ryan knew her eyes were wandering again. She always did that when she spoke. Ryan was still sitting at the table, looking outside too.

She looked at her nails and scratched them with her thumb. “I was saving,” she looked at Ryan. “Saving for a dream.” He watched her now. Something suddenly dropped in him. What was it? One day, she talked to him about this trip to China she found online. It was cheap, but she didn’t have the money. Other times, he heard her talk on the phone. Her sister called from Sharm el Sheikh. Apparently, her son bought her a weekly tour. She listened to her sister and smiled. She was happy for her. But it seemed she wasn’t happy for herself; she spoke in a tight voice, and her smile was tighter. 

“But then there is food to buy,” she continued. “The fridge is empty. And I want my nails cute. I don’t even remember when was the last time I had them done.” She sighed and said, “Fine, what time is it? She looked at the clock on the wall when his father came into the kitchen. He walked, limping on one leg. He reached the table and leaned over it, putting his elbows down. He reached for an apple and sat down in the chair. 

“So this film is very interesting. He goes to the bookstore and meets a nice woman, “he took a bite off the apple, and continued, “he is happy and all that, but when he comes home, she is there,” he leaned back and smacked the back of his hand against his other palm. 

“Who needs your films? Eight hours straight in front of the TV. You have nothing else to do?” She was agitated now. He moved a little in his chair and said, “Well, I am retired, what else to do? He pointed that out to her without waiting for her answer. 

“There is a leak in the bathroom. I told you to fix it days ago. You aren’t doing anything unless someone kicks you hard in the butt.” 

“Yeah,” he said in denial. She was angry but threw his hand at him to cool off.

“Your mother is such an ache in the butt,” he said, looking at Ryan. “She can’t sit still in one place.” Ryan waited until they finished. But they wouldn’t. So he stood up and walked away to his room. He opened the door and looked inside. His Matchbox cars sat quietly on the table. His laptop was left open from yesterday. He pressed the space key, and the screen showed an animation from his childhood. He downloaded it last week to rewatch. It was his favourite one on TV. He’d think back at those times and remember how they watched it with his father before breakfast. Then his mother would call from the kitchen, and they both would go and eat. Ryan caught himself daydreaming. He shut the screen and pushed the Matchbox car across the table. It looked like a real one when it moved and bumped itself against the book. He lifted the book and walked to his bookshelf. He looked at a few books standing in order. Then, he found a place and placed his one carefully between other books. “It is perfect this way,” he thought to himself.