Gone FishingA Story by MattVoscinar
Story I wrote for class
"I almost saw an accident today." Jane stirred gently beside me in a faux-leather chair, her eyelids fluttering carelessly.
"Yes, almost." Her mouth curled towards the right side of her face and air heavily rushed out of her nostril.
"That's not very exciting." I sighed and wrapped my fingers against the worn armrest where my hand was perched. Nothing seemed exciting anymore. I could feel the frayed strings underneath my fingertips and the stained wood that hid under them.
"I suppose not." I turned from her. It wasn't long after we got married that she began to disgust me. Her skin clung too tight against her frame and bones jutted out from her waistband. I looked towards the kitchen table, where she had placed a wretched bouquet of half-wilted yellow roses atop a stained white tablecloth.
"I suppose not," she repeated before standing from her chair. I had once been taken aback by her grace, which had faded thanks to the pills. She stretched clumsily, stumbling over her own feet before catching herself on the mantle. I tried my hardest not to laugh.
"Have you been drinking?"
"You're an a*s." She scoffed. I knew it was true and that was why she had married me. We got married at the age of seventeen. At twenty three we knew each other no better.
"I'm sorry." We both knew I wasn't.
"Percy…" she inhaled deeply, followed by a violent exhale. She had a tendency to do this before she went on a long tirade she would pretend to apologize for later. "Why do we do this?" There was a long moment of silence. I wanted time to stop and just stay in that single moment. For some reason, which had long escaped me, I loved her. I just knew that I did, when she wasn't on one of her oxy-fueled sermons preaching about love and how I don't treat her right. I couldn't blame her for how she was. I did the same thing from time to time. All that I knew was that I wasn't in the mood. I jumped from the chair and walked over to her before gently touching her arm. She seemed even more frail than usual. It made me wince.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" She swallowed heavily. She would soon be weeping. I tried to stay calm, I really did. I just sighed, walked to the bedroom, and shut the door behind me.
A Second Chance
"What does it mean?"
"Nothing. I thought it looked cool." I got the tattoo of a lonely fisherman on my back two years after marrying Jane. I told her something similar: I just needed a change or something like that. I could feel the girl's fingertips caressing the outline. "It looks really nice."
"Thanks." It was the first time I had made love to another woman in six years. I immediately regretted it.
"So you're not seeing anyone, right?" I didn't look at her or answer. Her weight shifted away from me and I heard her footsteps moving towards the bathroom. I took the opportunity to leave.
When I got home I tried to wash her fingerprints off, but I could feel them, tracing the b*****d on my back with innocent admiration.
The phone rang. I moaned gently against the pillow and opened my eyes. The caller ID read in big, gold, green letters: JANE. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I remembered how much hated the color of the room. I felt like I was trapped inside of a rotten pomegranate.
It was seven the next morning before Jane got home. She came in quietly, taking a moment before noticing I was awake. She smiled and put her purse down, the sound of pills echoing throughout the empty room. She walked past me and I could hear her close the bathroom door.
The sound of the water running made me sick. Not because I knew she was washing someone else's touch off of her, but because I couldn't stop thinking about that silly girl. Her hair that hung over her face just like Jane's did while she was on top of me, and the bony pelvis that smashed against mine, and the innocence that Jane once had. I looked towards the window and sighed. I couldn't help but wonder about whom she had been with the night before. Maybe he had a family or a job or an oxy connection. Hell, he might've even had a dog. All of which were substantially better situations than I was in. I smiled. It was strange, I wasn't mad or anything like that. In fact, I was happy for her, and I liked him, whoever he was.
"I need to tell you something." I turned to see Jane, standing in nothing but a towel.
"I have been." There was silence; I had longed for it for the last twenty four hours. I basked in it a few more moments.
"You… know?" Her face had become riddled with confusion. She stood up and I did the same. Her eyes widened as I swooped over and pressed my index finger to her lips. My lips soon took its place.
It was the first time I had made love to Jane in months. There, our bodies twisted together on the floor, she kissed and smiled. I could tell she was happy solely for the fact I wasn't mad at her. She rolled away from me and stood before making her way to the bathroom. I took the opportunity to leave.
© 2011 MattVoscinar
Added on February 2, 2011
Last Updated on February 2, 2011
AboutI'm a nineteen year old poet/hip hop artist who is quite active in the Central Florida scene. I'm currently attending college to major in English/Secondary Education. more..