Contest Entry: The Slow Cooker, (revised

Written to the prompt: Write a dialogue-only story about a change of plans.

The Slow Cooker 
(498 words)

“You hate my roast when it’s dry."

“It’s not dry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I cooked it in the slow cooker. I didn’t even know we had a slow cooker until this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I discovered it in the back of the attic, still wrapped in Christmas paper, with the card attached. Eleanor Greaves gave it to us in nineteen-seventy-four. Right before she and her husband moved away. Thirty-five years and we never even opened it.”

“Really.”

“They were all the rage back then. Slow cookers, I mean. That was when everyone ate lentil soup and curried beef and homemade yogurt. Remember those days?”

“Not fondly.”

“I wonder where she bought it. It couldn’t have been Saddler’s. Saddler’s was brand new then, remember? They had that big grand opening right after Thanksgiving. With Santa and carolers and fireworks. I took the kids in the Buick. The green one with the sticky brake pedal.”

“The Lesabre?”

“Yes. The green Lesabre. We --.”

“It was black.”

“What was?”

“The Lesabre. It was black.”

“Isn’t that funny. If someone offered me a million dollars right now to correctly describe that car, I’d say it was green.”

“Then you'd lose.”

“Was the interior green?”

“White.”

“Black and white then. So many things were black and white back then. More potatoes?

"Not yet."

"At least I remember the grand opening and how excited we were about going. Too bad we didn’t get to see it.”

“No?”

“No. On the way there, Rusty threw up all over the car and we had to turn around and come back home. It was so disappointing.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You wouldn’t. You weren’t there.”

“Where was I?”

“I don’t know. You had a headache. Just before we were to leave, you said you had a headache. But we came right home and Eleanor’s gift -- the slow cooker -- was on the table and you were gone.”

“Really? I don’t remember.”

“What about Eleanor? Do you remember her?”

“Vaguely. Young. Attractive. Married to Mickey or Mike.”

“Mack. A Navy pilot. I always thought that was funny, being a pilot in the Navy. Not the Air Force. The Navy. You know, he was killed overseas.”

“When?”

“Eight years ago. He was taking off from an aircraft carrier near Saudi Arabia and his plane crashed into the Persian Gulf.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one. I was browsing websites today and stumbled across his obituary.”

“How sad.”

“Yes, very sad. Eleanor and Mack had a daughter, you know.”

“Really? They didn’t when they lived here.”

"She must have been born soon after they moved. The obituary listed her as Kimberly Grace, age twenty-five. But that was eight years ago. Today she’d be thirty-three. A miracle child, that one.”

“Why is that?”

“Because Eleanor told me Mack couldn’t father children. He was impo --. Oh, dear, you’ve stopped eating. Is everything all right? It’s the roast, isn’t it? It’s too dry.

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