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My Old Woman “Morning!” Elliot said brightly as Jordan walked into the kitchen. She kept her eyes on the stove, knowing today was not the day to burn the pancakes. “Did you sleep well?” “Where’s the goddamned coffee?” Jordan snapped. “In your favorite mug on the counter,” Elliot answered. “Black, just the way you like it.” Jordan dropped onto one of the stools and wrapped her hands around the mug, not bothering to take a sip. “Are those blueberry pancakes, or did you just burn them again?” she asked, eyeing the plate Elliot set in front of her. “Blueberry, of course,” Elliot answered, kissing her lightly on the cheek. Jordan swatted her away. “Don’t do that,” she said angrily. “Aren’t you on call today?” “Traded with JD to get the day off,” Elliot replied. “He made me promise to cover his next two shifts so I probably won’t be home for the next two days, but it’s worth it.” Jordan took a sip of her coffee, refusing to admit that she was touched. Even after fifteen years of being together, she still wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Elliot made her happy. “Good coffee,” she mumbled. Elliot beamed, knowing that was the only thank you she was going to get. “I made us reservations for dinner at–” “What makes you think I’m going out today?” Jordan interrupted. “Because it’s your birthday,” Elliot answered. “Anyway, they’re for six, so–” “I’m not going,” Jordan said sullenly. “I don’t wanna.” Elliot blew her bangs out of her face as she flipped the last batch of pancakes. “I don’t care. We’re going. Besides, you like Italian food.” “I don’t have anything to wear,” she whined. “What are you talking about? You have the red dress, the black one and the blue one I got you last year, not to mention–” “I can’t wear those,” Jordan said. “They’re for young people.” “You’re not old,” Elliot retorted, putting another three pancakes onto the untouched plate. “Just because you’re turning–” “Don’t say it!” Jordan warned. “–turning fifty does not mean you’re old,” Elliot continued, ignoring Jordan. “It took months to get those reservations, and you’re going.” She grumbled angrily into her coffee, glaring all the while at Elliot. “I am too old,” Jordan said, trying not to let any real emotion into her voice. “Oh god, I’m the old man dating the hot young blond thing,” she added suddenly, slamming her head down on the counter. “I can’t believe this. I’ve turned into my father.” Elliot came over to Jordan’s side of the counter and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You’re not old, and you’re certainly not your father,” she said reassuringly. “Last time I checked, you’re still female.” Jordan picked her head up and slammed it down again. “Fucking dumb blonde,” she mumbled. Elliot rolled her eyes. “Yeah, maybe, but we’re going to dinner tonight whether you like it or not.” “Fuck you,” Jordan said angrily, one cheek still pressed against the cool counter. “Yes, that, too,” Elliot said, moving her mouth so it was pressed against Jordan’s ear. “You know that fantasy I’ve had but never told you about?” Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Keep talking.” Elliot smiled against her ear. “Well…” |
My 40 Snapshotsby Nicole Merrill |
