Solitaire by Lacie Morgan The doggy door clatters against the house and it sounds like the dogs can’t make up their minds. The stove vents clap in protest. The walls grumble in disapproval. Ann is tucked under the covers, pulled up to her chin. The dogs are curled up on her feet and a game of solitaire is before her. The telephone rings and she cringes. Steve only calls because she asked him not to. He acts surprised when she tells him she had been sleeping. Sleeping already? Yah, well, it’s been a long day . She finds herself apologizing before she even knows why and wishes she hadn’t. The trash cans roll past her window. The tree knocks loudly. It reminds her to stop. Disengage. The trees shush her movement in the wind. I miss you , he says. I want to see you . He’d had her waiting so much before. She won’t wait now. The dog snores deeply and she jumps at the sound. How is your Dad? And the wind picks up. They’re running tests. He’s forgotten his lie; forgets where he left off. She notices but doesn’t respond. She can’t take the doggy door sounds anymore. It slams more loudly than before. She goes to silence it and shoves a blanket through the hole. The dogs can’t get out and they don’t mind. Ok, well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow then . The blanket comes loose and the doggy door clatters again. I guess , his reply. He doesn’t understand her distance. She refuses to remind him how much she cared. The window is clear from the rain. Goodnight then . She blocks the door a final time and goes back to her game and listens to rain patter against the roof. Goodnight then. theMeadow 35
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