LIFE IS GOOD

Nicole never gets out of her dressing gown until noon. The pink polyester is silky, with a slash of magenta ribbon at the waist. When a spaghetti strap breaks, she fastens it back on with a paper clip. The nightgown makes her feel like a movie star. Marcus enjoys scuttling across the fabric, waving his antennae. He’s the showman. Bold. Adventurous. Walter is shyer.

They’re clean flies, always brushing some invisible substance off their adorable faces, red eyes gleaming. Nicole has no definitive proof they’re male. She just knows. Each morning, she feeds them rotten banana soaked in milk. For supper, there’s expired hamburger.

Eatin’ good in the neighborhood, she tells them loudly, ignoring the sirens outside.

She prides herself on not playing favorites. Likes to watch them crawl across the one tiny window in the apartment, moving in circles, searching. The window has no screen so it always stays shut. What if her boys encountered the kid two floors up, mean enough to pull off their wings? What if they were victims of extreme weather – punishing winds, drowning rains, searing heat? What if they ventured outside and got run over by a tank? Nicole would never forgive herself.

Outside, the sirens don’t stop. Fire trucks. Police trucks. Army trucks. She hasn’t left home in 189 days. Her insurance job is remote. DoorDash delivers. It’s not really a problem.

The three of them watch reruns of The Gilmore Girls, and Nicole wonders why Loralei never wears the same outfit twice, why Stars Hollow doesn’t have a bank. She can’t remember if Loralei ends up in love or not.

She puts tap water in her best porcelain teacup so the flies can sip or bathe in style.

On her 56th birthday, there’s a party. They all eat Cookie Monster ice cream. Nicole wears a paper hat, doesn’t answer the phone.

Life is good, she whispers to the ceiling at night as smoke from drones punches the sky. We’re all safe.

In two months, Marcus will zip out the door when the delivery boy opens it too wide. Walter will die of loneliness, sprawled on the windowsill with his feet in the air, turning grey, a cocoon of dust and pity. Nicole will switch channels to the news she’s tried to avoid – bombs exploding, children’s torn limbs, a pregnant woman clutching her bloody stomach. When she cries, the world mourns with her.