001.
I'm tired of this wine. You'll have to finish it for me.
Eloise and Marcus, her devoted husband of two years, were
languishing in the shade of a cafe they liked to frequent that stood exactly
two and a half blocks to the left of their minuscule flat. Their flat had two
stories, the lower of which consisted of a staircase's beginning, umbrella
rack, and card table. Water damage lines on the outermost wall of their
building served as reminder of the city's annual two millimeter sink.
Sometimes, while returning home in the town's public ferry,
Eloise would watch the tide slap, peeling rose colored paint off the Venetian
architecture. She thought of her grandmother's kitchen wall where her height
(and that of five siblings) was recorded and compared year after year,
accounting for the passage of time. The tradition died along with her
grandmother, and the seaside house, which sold for less than it was worth
before it burned and the wind scattered its ashes to the whim of the
Mediterranean.
Now, time passed without measure and viciously fast.
Half-way through her twenties, Eloise felt blindly for the brakes but only
grasped handfuls of sand.
Marcus stuck out his arm and grabbed the wineglass from her
pale hand.
He made eye contact with his young wife and felt a momentary
static shock before she looked into her teacup. He took a swig, considering the
deep purple and green bags that hung below her eyes.
You sleeping all right? he asked.
Marcus, I sleep next to you every night, of course I'm
sleeping.
Her voice was muffled by the edge of the cup. She eyed him
over the rim before realizing there wasn't any tea left in it. Marcus'
expression became frustrated as she examined the tea leaves, feigning
curiosity.
I said, are you sleeping all right? he said.
She looked out from under her hair sheepishly.
Is there anything else I could bring you? Their waitress
asked, cutting air like a knife.
Eloise's shoulders slumped in relief and Marcus peeled his
eyes off her then said, Just the check.
Please, Eloise added.
Marcus nodded, briefly scanning the waitress from head to toe.
She was heavier than his wife, with full breasts that formed a very small slit
between her blouse's middle buttons. How heavy would her breast be, resting in
the palm of his hand?
Marcus looked down at the tablecloth and closed his mouth.
He cleared his throat.
Not only is the city drowning, he said. But scientists say,
they say it's heading out to sea. You know, from whence it came.
He laughed fully.
I can see why though, I mean, doesn't everything go home to
die?
002.
When they returned to their flat that evening, after spending the day ambling through town silently because Eloise was in a mood, there was a note on the door.
It read:
I KNOCKED BUT NO ONE ANSWERED
-l.t.
Eloise immediately snatched the note up and scrutinized it for thirty seconds before handing it over and asking, Well, what does it mean?
Marcus didn't respond, fixated on the small slip of paper. Just then the humidity of the tiny hall in which they stood overwhelmed the girl and she began swaying a little at the knees.
What could it mean Marc?
Glancing at his wife he felt a profound sadness because he couldn't answer her question. She had stopped asking him things when she realized there was nothing he could say to make her happy.
Communication, save for the necessary and insignificant, was virtually non-existent now.
When they had first met, in the spring of their second year at university, Eloise would spend the night lying with her head on Marcus' lap and just talk for ages. Within the first month, he thought he knew everything about her.
Don't ever make me jealous, she had told him.
I go mad. I can't take it. My heart starts rattling and rattling and all my ribs splinter and break apart. I bust open from the inside.
She had said it all with a smile, but something in the way her lips were stuck with him.
Her lips were like that now, so he crumpled the note and tossed it down the stairwell.
I don't know what the hell it means, he said. Doesn't matter, they probably stuck it on the wrong door anyway. Let's go inside.
At dinner Marcus tried to stimulate conversation, but was dejected by her irresponsiveness three times before resorting to relocating himself and his dinner plate onto the couch. He proceeded to turn on the news and began increasing the volume an increment for every second Eloise refused to speak. The television was screaming before Marcus even realized she had gone.
Fuck, he said, inaudibly as a sigh.
He got a beer out of the fridge and sat in Eloise's empty chair staring at the untouched food. He sat there until six more beers had gone and the news was on it's third cycle.
