the beginning of something

short story - literary fiction

 

 

the beginning of something

 

 

I opened my eyes. A little drunk. But mostly sleepy. Maggie took the wine bottle from my hands.                                       

 

“It's awfully early to be drinking,” she said.

 

“What time is it?” I asked.

 

I moved to get up.

 

She patted me on the head.

 

“Ten-ten a.m., sleepy head.”

 

We stared at each other a moment. Like it was our first time ever meeting. Her lids were heavy over her big, brown eyes. The long hours. An extended midnight shift. Her marriage coming apart at the seams. All of it was taking a toll. She looked like she could sleep forever. 

 

“I tried calling you,” she said. “Last night, and early this morning, but you didn’t answer.”

 

I sat up. Stretched. Took a drink.

 

“I was at Old Mexico.”

 

“Again?”

 

“New drink special. Two-for-ones from ten till midnight.”

 

She stared into the floor.

 

“Who were you with?” she asked.

 

“Jake and Kali.”

 

“How was it?” she asked.

 

“Fun. Jake and Kali were really at it. Talking politics and religion.”  

 

She stared at the floor. Turned her wedding ring round and round on her finger. I noticed a bruise on her wrist.

 

“What happened?” I asked, and I reached for her hand. 

 

She pulled away. She wouldn’t look at me.

 

“I drove by here earlier,” she said.

 

“Why didn’t you stop?” I asked. But I knew why she hadn’t, and it bothered me.

 

I wanted her to come out and say it. For her to ask why Kali’s car was parked outside my apartment at four o’clock in the morning, but I knew she wouldn’t.

 

“I didn’t have time. I was only on break. To the gas station for coffee and donuts.”

 

Her hands trembled. She twisted the wedding ring.

 

“What’s that on your wrist?” I asked.

 

She was silent as she stood up and walked to the bed. Sunlight had finally found a way through December's cloud cover. It came through the big, curtainless window, and it surrounded her. She was a dark, smooth shape against the light. I took a long drink from the bottle and let it settle in as I watched her sit on the edge of my bed. The old, broken-down mattress and box spring that rested on the hardwood floor.

 

“I should get a new bed,” I said.

 

She pulled her long, brown hair back and made it into a pony-tail.

 

“You don’t need a new anything. You only need to make use of what you have.”

 

She eased out of her sweater. Wriggled out of her jeans. Then slid off the ring. Set it on the bedside table. And she sat there. Waiting. In her cotton bra and cotton panties. Staring at me. Lightning drove through my veins.

 

I got up and finished the bottle. Went over and stretched out next to her on the bed. 

 

“Did he do that to your wrist?”

 

She was silent and moved close. Put her face into my chest as I ran my fingertips around her face. Gently traced her shape and lines. Moved around her cheek, her lips, then touched her shoulder and moved down her side to the place where cotton met the curve of her hips.

 

She shivered. And closed her eyes.

 

I was awake for as long as I could be. Watching her. Touching her. Listening to her breathe and murmur in her sleep. Wondering how it would be. All of it had made me tired. The waiting. The drinking. And there was nothing else to do but sleep.

 

 

*

I dreamt we were Christmas shopping. At the Rosedale Mall. In and out of stores. Our hands and arms weighted down with bags. Full of presents we'd bought for each other. We were on the escalator, heading down.

 

“All these bags to carry,” she said, “And all I want to do is hold your hand.”

 

When we reached bottom, we walked past Santa’s workshop. He was in a big blue chair, asking children what they wanted for Christmas as they wriggled about on his knee. There were other children too. Circled around a tall Christmas tree. Wearing white gowns and silver wings. Wreaths of holly on their heads. They were holding candles. Singing Silent Night. All of them with their eyes closed. Their small lips barely moving.

 

Maggie led me into a store. We set down our bags. Walked to a long silver rack under a green sign that said MEN’S APPAREL. There was one red shirt.  She took it down and held it up to my chest and arms.

 

“It's the only one left,” she said.

 

“I'll take it.”

 

“Shouldn't you try it on?”

 

“I don't need to. I know it'll fit.”

 

She smiled, and then she led me to another rack. It was long and silver, like the other one, but this one was overflowing with clothes. Maggie started going through the clothing. Inspecting shirts, pants, skirts, and blouses. Looking at price tags. Working at buttons and zippers.

 

I sat in a big blue chair and watched as she took an armful of clothing into a fitting room. She was inside a long time and when she came out she was crying.

 

“Nothing fits,” she said.

 

She rushed to the rack and rifled through more clothing. She was growing frantic, knocking hangers loose and throwing clothing to the floor. I was about to stand up and help her when a man appeared. He was a handsome man. Dark skinned. Lean. Had dark eyes and dark hair. He was wearing a suit and he had a red dress draped over his arm. Maggie’s face grew bright. The man held the dress up to her. Smoothed it over her body. Then whispered something only she could hear. 

 

“I think this is it,” she said. She smiled and kissed the man’s cheek. She led him into the fitting room and closed the door behind them.

 

 

*

 

I woke when Maggie turned in her sleep. Felt our shared warmth break and rise up, as she rolled onto her side and backed her body away from mine.

 

It was nearly dark outside. Clouds had moved in over us. Wide and flat-bottomed. They were low and heavy. Weighted with gray.

 

Maggie opened her eyes, but was caught somewhere between wakefulness and dream. She looked out at the sky and fingered the bruise on her wrist.

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

 

It began to snow and flakes fell and wandered into the window pane.  Melting and streaking like tears.

 

 

(© 2007 by k.j. stevens)