Let's Stay Together
We owed our
old friends, Cicily and Bob, an invite so they came for dinner.
Bob joined my husband at the grill to discuss the meat. I overheard my
husband say he'd used a Polish sauce from a Polish deli. "Interesting,"
Bob said and then they went on to ask each other about sports.
Cicily and I spent all of our time sitting at the patio table
exchanging compliments. I was starting to run out, and then the food
came. We ate and drank outdoors. My cat chewed grass and puked it up by
the herb garden. It was too dark for Cicily and Bob to notice. I don't
think my husband noticed either. Nothing mattered except what moved
within the glow of the citronella candle centerpiece.
When we were done, Cicily stood up to start to clear. I cleared too.
Bob and my husband came in with us, but went to the living room. Cicily
cleaned and I wrapped up the leftovers. The guys blasted Al Green as a
"What's the title of that one?" Cicily asked. "I've heard it before."
"Let's Stay Together. It's in the lyrics."
Cicily finished and started to put things away. She went for the fridge
but I stopped her, told her she cleaned so well. Cicily picked up the
sponge like it was nothing and then she chatted again. I opened the
freezer and put a puck of ice to my cheek.
Jennifer Pieroni is Editor in Chief
of the literary journal Quick
Fiction. She has work in the current issue of Hobart and
forthcoming from Another Chicago Magazine and Bateau.
An essay will appear in Rose Metal Press' Field Guide on
To link to this story directly: http://wigleaf.com/200809lets.htm
Photo detail on main page courtesy
of Jill Doughtie.
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