Fireflies
By Paul Kavanagh

Eliot tossed his dead cigarette into the darkness. The last embers faded. He picked up the wine glass and emptied it. They watched the fireflies. The fireflies weaved in and out. All they do is complete circles, said Kitty. Eliot watched a circle complete; he never got bored of the fireflies. Why can’t we smoke indoors? asked Eliot. Kitty just looked at Eliot. Sometimes they would follow the fireflies in silence.

Macy and Tim arrived just before six. Macy left a scarf of smoke undulating behind her. The smoke lingered inert in the room. I hope she doesn’t blow smoke rings, said Kitty. Tim handed Eliot their coats. Thanks for having us, said Tim. Stop worrying. Tonight will go wonderfully. We have some great food and great wine, Eliot said. Tim smiled. They stood around the table. On the table were candles, which flickered romantically, hypnotically, creating the perfect ambience. Over the air wafted Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette. A rather mellifluous opera, said Macy. Macy looked around. She was searching for an ashtray. We don’t have an ashtray, said Kitty. I think we do, Eliot said. We don’t, said Kitty. She can use a cup, Eliot said. Macy smiled; it was such a tenuous smile, it could have slipped off her face with the slightest blow. Eliot found an old cup. Not that cup. That is my cup from law school, said Kitty.  The cup was cracked and chipped around the rim. The arbitrary nature of taste is a perplexing thing, said Tim. Not tonight, said Macy. The ash was drooping precariously. Soon Macy would have to use her hand for an ashtray. Instead of building a wall of smoke, Macy varied her egresses and produced instead an array of farm animals. These simulacra visited them with the lifespan of a butterfly. Still, although ephemeral, these unwanted guests displeased Kitty.

Tim handed Macy a glass of wine. Eliot handed Macy an old mug. Macy stubbed out her cigarette. Eliot carried the mug out into the back garden. He stood and watched the fireflies. Did you know that Kafka and Joyce both lived through the First World War but it never appears in their masterpieces, said Tim. Wonderful, said Macy, smiling at Kitty. During the soup, Tim told them about an earthquake in Peru. Three hundred fifty-two people were killed. Did you know that Tim and I had a bet the other night about who would be the first to be toothless? said Macy. Tim sat next to Kitty and Eliot sat next to Macy. The affability was only matched by the Salmon Pigs in a Blanket.

Fork was a French word that the Normans introduced to England, Eliot said. I watched words fly around the blank space in my head all last night, said Macy. Words. Blank space, said Kitty, confused. Yes the blank space between my ears – Macy tittered – round and round they went and I watched them. Words, said Kitty. The titter developed into deafening laugh. Right, that will do, said Tim, standing up. The sound of the chair legs screeching along the wooden floor produced an array of grimaces.

Eliot and Macy watched the fireflies. Eliot lit two cigarettes and handed one to Macy. Smiling, Macy banged her shoulder into Eliot’s arm. You are a cutie pie, she said. I love watching the fireflies, said Eliot. Do you think those fireflies are in pain? They are never still, said Macy. Eliot shrugged his shoulders. Maybe it's because their behinds are on fire, said Macy.

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