Amanda

Amanda flipped up the dishwasher door with the toe of one of her sneaker-clad feet, then manipulated the controls to start it running. "The kitchen is closed!" she announced to the empty house.

Pulling the kitchen towels from their hooks with a snap, she tossed them with the rest of the day's laundry - towels and sheets - in the washer, which she would start after the dishwasher finished its job. Coming back into the kitchen, Amanda contemplated washing the floor, but decided that a good sweep would do for today. There was still vacuuming to be done, and she was due at the Agency in the afternoon.

As she moved the Hoover vacuum rhythmically back and forth over the carpet in the den, she thought she heard something jangling. She reversed her position to vacuum in the other direction so she could see if anyone had come in. No one was there, so she flicked the switch to turn the machine off.

The phone was mid-ring when she cut the power to the vacuum, so she thought she'd missed the call, until it rang again. Amanda hopped over the vacuum cord and lunged for the handset - who knew how long it'd been ringing.

"Hello?"

"Amanda, it's me."

"Oh, hello, Lee."

"How'd you know it was me?" Lee sounded genuinely curious.

"Who else do I know who would say 'it's me'?"

"Are you okay? The phone must've rung 30 times." Now he sounded worried, if a little annoyed.

"I was vacuuming. You let the phone ring 30 times?"

"Uh, well… yes." Amanda could practically hear him running a hand through his hair. "Look," he continued, "I need you to meet me at the bowling alley. Same one we were at before."

"Okay. Should I bring my bowling ball?" Amanda was already picturing where she'd stashed it among the various sports equipment and games and snow boots and umbrellas in the front hall closet.

Lee sighed, then deadpanned. "Yes, Amanda, you should bring your bowling ball."

"Well, you never know." Why was he always so impatient? "I just want to be prepared. Anything else I should bring?"

"No, just yourself and your bowling ball. Oh, do you have bowling shoes?"

"Yes."

"You didn't wear them last time." It was a statement rather than a query.

"That's because you didn't give me enough time to find them. They've been in the back of my closet since we took third in the league with the parent-teacher team. That was the year before both Mr. McGillicuddy and Mrs. Murphy retired. It was all downhill for the team after that." Amanda paused before asking with worry, "Lee?"

"Yes?"

"Is this a situation like..." Not sure what to call it, she settled on an overly emphasized, "last time?"

"Last time?" Lee repeated back.

She was a little more than passingly sure that he knew very well what she was trying to say. He was clearly enjoying making her figure out how to ask. "Well, you know… if I were to go to the office, would it… be there?"

He chuckled, "Yes. Yes, it would be there. This isn't a possum situation."

"Okay."

"Okay."

There was silence on the line. Neither was sure what else there was to say, thought it seemed like there should be more. There almost always seemed like there should be more.

Finally, Amanda focused back on the practical. "Lee? What time should I meet you there?"

"In an hour. Can you make that?"

"Yes." She nodded curtly. "I can do that."

"See you then."

Amanda

Amanda walked into the dimly lit bowling alley and looked around. It was the middle of the morning, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the school year. The place was essentially deserted, except for Lee.

Amanda signaled to the cashier/shoe guy that she was joining someone. She then raised her ball and shoe bags to let him know she was all set for equipment.

As she walked toward him, Lee looked around from where he sat - not quite far enough to see her though. He smacked his hands on his knees, stood up, and rubbed his palms together before slowly fluttering his long fingers over the embedded fan in the ball return.

Skulking around the corner of the shoe kiosk, Amanda watched, hidden by the racks of rental shoes, which smelled of aerosol disinfectant. She noted that Lee had hung his suit jacket over one of the molded plastic chairs and rolled up his sleeves. The bowling shoes were incongruously paired with a pair of grey slacks, but really, the man could look good in anything.

He chose a ball and hoisted it to chest level as he stepped to the centerline of the lane. The perfectly straight posture of his back made him seem even taller than he was. He squared his shoulders, then bounced on the balls of his feet. Taking exactly three steps, he swung the ball back, then forward. Arm extending, Lee slid one foot back and behind the other in a kind of lunge as he flicked his wrist and let go of the ball. He stood stock-still as it spun down the lane and hit the number one pin dead on for a picture perfect strike. Lee stood up straight again and bobbed his head sharply in triumph.

Amanda admired his form - both his bowling form and his physical form. Those long legs, muscular backside, trim waist, and strong back… It hadn't been the speed or force of the ball that landed him the strike, but the finesse he'd put on it. Those are some talented fingers, Amanda thought as he waved his hand over the blower on the ball return again.

She thought maybe she'd just keep watching for a while before revealing herself. Her conscience got the better of her almost right away. Lee had asked her to meet him, so he - or the Agency - must need her.

Stepping out from her vantage point, she descended the three steps to the level of the lanes, right behind where Lee had seated himself.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to bowl."

Lee

Lee turned around, not too surprised that he hadn't heard her approach. The usual bowling alley music filled the aural space with outdated songs by the likes of the Starland Vocal Band and Captain and Tennille.

He tried to look stern. One dimple refused to be tamed, however. "I never said I didn't know how to bowl. I said I don't bowl."

END