Molly
Much to her dismay, Molly yanked herself out of bed at five o’clock the next morning. Well, the truth was more like the alarm clock did the yanking. But, nevertheless, she woke up. Showered. Ate a bowl of cereal.
Then she moseyed over to Agnes’s side of the duplex.
Agnes was all ready for her.
In the time since Molly had seen her only hours earlier, Agnes had dyed her hair and added red lipstick.
Let it be known that Molly hadn’t seen her wear lipstick in forever. Not since her husband died. And even before then, only on rare dress-up occasions.
Agnes was decked out in a silk blouse with a pair of dressy slacks and ballet flats. Meanwhile, Molly had pulled on a pair of old jeans, grabbed a clean t-shirt from the dryer, and tossed on her sneakers. All without any lipstick. Or makeup.
This was her normal day-at-home attire. Since she wasn’t going anywhere until the mechanic called, she figured she’d go with comfy. Now, she was questioning that decision. Because next to Agnes, she looked like one of those things that’s not like the other.
Perhaps she should run upstairs and change? Even just to slap on a quick swipe of lip gloss?
She started toward the door, then she stalled mid-step and slid her gaze to Agnes. Right, she couldn’t risk leaving now. And if Agnes cared about her lack of appearance attention, she said nothing. She only handed Molly a cup of coffee and shooed her onto the porch.
The contest was straight-forward. Introduce two people, go along with them on a few dates, post a video log recap of everything, be entertaining and fun, then the world votes. Well, Denver votes. After the initial round, there would be radio interviews and eventually a winner.
Molly sat on their shared porch swing, kicking her feet up on the stool, and blowing at the steam rising from the cup.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Agnes asked as soon as Molly’s bottom hit the chair.
Uh… “Sitting.”
“How can you introduce me if you’re sitting?” Agnes gestured for her to get up.
Um… “I was going to stand when he got here.”
Agnes gave her a look that had Molly standing without brokering any argument. Some things were just not worth the breath, you know?
Agnes was correct. Right on time, Mr. Davenport lumbered up the sidewalk.
Molly set down her cup of coffee, and with a skip in her step, she headed in his direction.
Agnes grabbed her arm, halting her forward momentum.
“Timing,” she said under her breath.
What the hell?
This was part of the reason Molly didn’t do early mornings. Things just didn’t make as much sense before eight.
Molly waited. For what? Well, she wasn’t entirely sure. But Agnes still held her arm in place, so she figured it had to do with timing.
Mr. Davenport made his slow trek down the sidewalk, past the house in between. Finally, Agnes released Molly’s arm and gave her a little push forward. Actually, a shove. She gave her a solid shove. Not that Molly would hold it against her.
But it was definitely a cue if Molly had ever received one.
She trotted down the shared steps to their duplex, waving at Mr. Davenport.
“Good morning,” she said, as cheerful as she could muster.
He scowled in her direction as a response.
Seriously, this is who Agnes had picked for herself? Because Molly would not have suggested this pairing. Agnes should find a gentleman friend who smiled sometimes. Or most of the time. Either way.
