Yup, she reacted as expected – with anger.
Well, not exactly anger, her words (she was very good with words) dripped with focused indifference.
Bret knew he deserved it. He was the one who pulled stakes and headed west nine months ago. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
“I’m one dumb ass!” He muttered and blinked at his phone.
She just hung up on me! Or did she? So, that would be anger. Better than indifference, anger he could work with. Faye couldn’t hold onto anger. Bret knew her pretty well.
And she didn’t say no. So, tomorrow maybe they could meet up, play a few songs. Music was the way back into Faye. And Brad was an agile musician. He could improvise. Things were looking up…
* * *
Faye decided to skip breakfast this morning and go with black coffee only. Out in the patio, she wrote furiously. Three paragraphs on the uselessness of contemporary gender roles and a limerick, frankly too graphic to recite in this telling.
(Frequently, Faye’s passion overrode her propriety.)
Lulu lay at Faye’s feet, starring up. She had seen this before. The clicking noise Faye made with the Humming Box had a frantic rhythm. Not the usual bright sounding bursts and pauses, this sounded more like she was pounding on the Humming Box. Lulu always paid close attention to Faye’s sounds and this was very troubling.
Well, at least the morning didn’t smell of squirrels. (Maybe they left the neighborhood.)
Abruptly, Faye stopped her pounding, got up and went to the kitchen – then returned with fresh coffee, but still no food. Her attention elsewhere, Faye walked straight to her chair without even noticing her dog or the spring morning. Lulu lost interest and rolled over for a quick morning nap.
The pounding sound returned, even louder than before. Still troubled, Lulu drifted off into a comforting morning dream – probably about eating or, maybe, chasing squirrels.