October 2024 Flash Lit 9:1 - Achilles Heel

Gil grumbled at everyone and everything.  His back hurt.  His coffee was too hot and then when he waited a bit it was too cold.  The newspaper, in addition to being printed in miniscule type, was full of reports about violence and fear, environmental destruction, and an analysis of a loss by his beloved Forty Niners.

Dee ignored him placidly and spread honey on her toast.  Some got on her fingers, of course, so she licked the sweetness off.  Gil looked up from his paper and said, “How old are you?”

 

Dee knew he meant she was too old to be licking her fingers like a child, but she answered, “Sixty seven, just like you.”  She was a young 67, still trim, her hair mostly brown, but Gil was an old 67, wrinkled from smoking, bent with arthritis, callused by life.

 

He snorted and returned to his paper.

 

“You finish up now,” Dee said.  Peter and Susan are bringing JoJo over soon.”

 

“Do they ever take care of their own child?” Gil groused.

 

Again Dee ignored him.  Time with a two-year-old was the best thing she could think of.  Besides, she knew her son and daughter-in -law enjoyed having Saturday afternoon to remember why they loved each other.

 

Half an hour later, Gil still sat at the kitchen table with his newspaper and a fresh cup of coffee.  JoJo zoomed around the kitchen on the wheeled caterpillar she was rapidly outgrowing making motor sounds.  She crashed into Gil’s foot and he yelped.

 

The little girl jumped off the caterpillar, hugged his shin, planted a kiss on his fleece-lined slipper, and said, “Make it better.”

 

Gil scooped her up and she nestled under his chin.  “Yes,” he said.  “JoJo make it better.”