The Fallout
Clara picks
up the long stemmed wine glass and frowns, “Did you wash this?”
“What does
it look like,” he says waving the chopping knife in her direction.
“You need
to use the glass linen tea towel to polish them properly.”
“Jesus! It’s
not a Michelin Star restaurant. Your standards lately are a bit….”
“Can you
point that elsewhere?” she says, deflecting the knife towards the chopping board.
“High- All
those late night business dinners in the city.” He packs a salad lunch into a
plastic container.
“It’s work
for Christ’s sake. Somebody has to pay the mortgage.” Clara smacks her lips as
she reapplies her lipstick.
“I’m a
writer and - ”
“Listen, I
have work.” She studies her reflection in the hall mirror as she makes for the
door.
“Trying to
impress somebody? - Don’t forget your rabbit food, Ma’am.”
“Put the
glasses in the damn dishwasher or lay off the wine. It’s midweek for Christ’s
sake.” She shoves the box into her bag and turns on her heel again.
“They’re
Galway Crystal.”
“Which
reminds me, I have an away trip to Galway , end
of the month. Pencil that in your diary.”
“Are you
saying I’m an alcoholic?” Behind her back he picks up the wine bottle and necks
back the last dregs.
“It’s to do
with the Wugi takeover.” Her hand is on the latch.
“So the HR
head and the IT geek have to trip off together once a month to seal the deal?”
He’s waving the empty bottle in her direction.
“Bin the
booze, Ivan and go out and get a real job.” Clara wheels around to face him.
“And you’re
shagging a goddamn IT geek.”
“The IT
geek is a woman. Put that in your novel!”
“I have.”
Copyright wit Cathy Leonard 2019
