smackenzie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smackenzie) wrote2009-11-02 05:32 pm
smackenzie) wrote2009-11-02 05:32 pm
pt 2
The rest of that Tuesday passed as usual, for Ana and Rose Marie and everyone else in Greater Boston. Office workers commuted home, high school students did homework and practiced team sports and went to after-school retail jobs, mechanics closed up shop, line cooks flipped burgers and fried onion rings, men and women in suits took clients out for business dinners. Ushers at Symphony Hall guided ticket holders to their seats, MBTA employees coming off their shifts bitched to each other about signal problems and fare jumpers and people who brought their dogs on the T, bicyclists navigated around buses and SUVs and pedestrians.
In Brighton, Nanda and Michelle Ruhl-Wasserman celebrated their fifth anniversary, and Teddy Negru celebrated his fifth birthday in Watertown. College students in Boston went to the library or walked back to their dorms from science labs and music school practice rooms. Groundskeepers groomed Fenway Park, rockabilly fans headed to a concert at the House of Blues, bartenders in Allston mixed drinks and poured beers. Car owners everywhere bitched mightily about the lack of parking. In Somerville, Ana took an order for a Vietnamese coffee and a cinnamon chip scone from her ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, who didn't recognize her.
No one got shot. No one got killed. No one even really got hurt, aside from a plumber named Scott Duchesne, who lived in Medford and twisted his ankle by falling off a chair in the process of trying to stick little glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of the nursery in his house. His wife Tina laughed at him, and then made him put an ice pack on his ankle.
Once home, Rose Marie did her laundry and called her older brother John in Colorado. She complained about her car battery, he complained about the weather. He shared a terrible pun that he'd learned from one of his neighbors, and Rose Marie laughed so hard she almost stopped breathing.
"It's not that funny," her brother said.
"I think I've had that kind of day," she told him. "I almost had to call building security to get this one client out of the office. I swear I thought he was going to hit the poor analyst. This couple that was just sitting in the lobby waiting for someone got involved and it was a huge mess. There were two beers in this apartment when I came home and now there's just one."
"Do you feel better?"
"Much. I think Bill - that's the analyst - is going to foist that client onto someone else. He can't get rid of him, we need the business. Bill's got kind of a thick skin but who wants to work with someone who threatens to hit you? Right? At least the guy didn't threaten to go somewhere else."
"That would suck," John agreed. "Add this to your list of movies not to get from Netflix - The Assassination of Jesse James by... uh. I forget. That's not actually the title, but close enough. It's very long and really slow, but it has Brad Pitt in it, you might like that."
John was on a western movie kick, and every conversation he'd had with Rose Marie in the past few weeks had included at least one reference to at least one western. He'd run through every single Clint Eastwood spaghetti western and most of the John Wayne ones, he'd seen The Unforgiven four times, and every so often he complained that he couldn't get all of Bonanza off Netflix.
"Brad's ok," Rose Marie conceded. "Who else is in it? What's it about?"
"The death of Jesse James, duh." She could hear him grinning at her on the other end of the phone. "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. That's it. Don't bother. If I could get Netflix to send me 3:10 to Yuma again I'd feel better. I need a good western to wash the taste of that one out of my eyes."
Now it was Rose Marie's turn to giggle. "Dad would tell you to go to the video store."
"He already did. Mom said I should just buy it. She's got a point there."
"If I didn't have to replace my car battery I'd totally buy it for you."
"You're a good sister."
"I know." She grinned at the phone.
They talked for another ten minutes about nothing in particular, and then they hung up so Rose Marie could get her laundry out of the dryer and John could make dinner and walk his dogs. He had a German Shepherd named Teddy (short for Theodora) and a basset named Exeter. The explanation for that was that Exeter had come with the name and John hadn't felt right changing it. Exeter was the laziest dog Rose Marie had ever met, but he loved the snow. Fresh snow was the easiest way to get him out of the house, especially if that fresh snow was piled a foot high.
words: 829
total words: 2565
In Brighton, Nanda and Michelle Ruhl-Wasserman celebrated their fifth anniversary, and Teddy Negru celebrated his fifth birthday in Watertown. College students in Boston went to the library or walked back to their dorms from science labs and music school practice rooms. Groundskeepers groomed Fenway Park, rockabilly fans headed to a concert at the House of Blues, bartenders in Allston mixed drinks and poured beers. Car owners everywhere bitched mightily about the lack of parking. In Somerville, Ana took an order for a Vietnamese coffee and a cinnamon chip scone from her ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, who didn't recognize her.
No one got shot. No one got killed. No one even really got hurt, aside from a plumber named Scott Duchesne, who lived in Medford and twisted his ankle by falling off a chair in the process of trying to stick little glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of the nursery in his house. His wife Tina laughed at him, and then made him put an ice pack on his ankle.
Once home, Rose Marie did her laundry and called her older brother John in Colorado. She complained about her car battery, he complained about the weather. He shared a terrible pun that he'd learned from one of his neighbors, and Rose Marie laughed so hard she almost stopped breathing.
"It's not that funny," her brother said.
"I think I've had that kind of day," she told him. "I almost had to call building security to get this one client out of the office. I swear I thought he was going to hit the poor analyst. This couple that was just sitting in the lobby waiting for someone got involved and it was a huge mess. There were two beers in this apartment when I came home and now there's just one."
"Do you feel better?"
"Much. I think Bill - that's the analyst - is going to foist that client onto someone else. He can't get rid of him, we need the business. Bill's got kind of a thick skin but who wants to work with someone who threatens to hit you? Right? At least the guy didn't threaten to go somewhere else."
"That would suck," John agreed. "Add this to your list of movies not to get from Netflix - The Assassination of Jesse James by... uh. I forget. That's not actually the title, but close enough. It's very long and really slow, but it has Brad Pitt in it, you might like that."
John was on a western movie kick, and every conversation he'd had with Rose Marie in the past few weeks had included at least one reference to at least one western. He'd run through every single Clint Eastwood spaghetti western and most of the John Wayne ones, he'd seen The Unforgiven four times, and every so often he complained that he couldn't get all of Bonanza off Netflix.
"Brad's ok," Rose Marie conceded. "Who else is in it? What's it about?"
"The death of Jesse James, duh." She could hear him grinning at her on the other end of the phone. "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. That's it. Don't bother. If I could get Netflix to send me 3:10 to Yuma again I'd feel better. I need a good western to wash the taste of that one out of my eyes."
Now it was Rose Marie's turn to giggle. "Dad would tell you to go to the video store."
"He already did. Mom said I should just buy it. She's got a point there."
"If I didn't have to replace my car battery I'd totally buy it for you."
"You're a good sister."
"I know." She grinned at the phone.
They talked for another ten minutes about nothing in particular, and then they hung up so Rose Marie could get her laundry out of the dryer and John could make dinner and walk his dogs. He had a German Shepherd named Teddy (short for Theodora) and a basset named Exeter. The explanation for that was that Exeter had come with the name and John hadn't felt right changing it. Exeter was the laziest dog Rose Marie had ever met, but he loved the snow. Fresh snow was the easiest way to get him out of the house, especially if that fresh snow was piled a foot high.
words: 829
total words: 2565