Hank asks me questions I shouldn’t have to answer. Like when I get up to pee at two o’clock in the morning. He says, “Where you going?”
So he’s a light sleeper and worried that Jack the Ripper might be breaking in through the kitchen window, but does he really think I’m going to face down a scarf-toting maniac alone? Just once I’d like to pad into the bathroom without uttering the words, “I gotta pee.”
Every morning when I get up, Hank asks, “You gonna make coffee?”
I’ve been grinding beans, rinsing the pot, clicking that little “on” button for thirty years. That’s 10,950 days of setting two mugs side by side on a folded piece of paper towel and dumping in honey or the pink stuff or the blue stuff or the yellow. Why does he need to be reassured on a daily basis that his “Go Anaheim Angels” mug will be steaming with Italian Roast?
Every night during the ten o’clock news, he asks, “You ready to go to bed yet?” I say, “Yep,” but don’t add: Just like last night and the night before, and the night before that. For thirty years.
I’m going to amend that. Sometimes, especially when Josh and Amy were growing up, the nightly routine didn’t happen with the same A-B-C precision I count on now. Sometimes Amy would trundle downstairs before the news started and snuggle between us on the couch because some “vapor” floated into her room, and I’d drop off because it’d been a busy day, and Hank would drop off, and Amy watched whatever came on at eleven. We didn’t have cable then so I wasn’t worried about her stumbling on the Playboy channel.
Before the kids left home, we careened through most days, too busy and too tired and too young to pay much attention to words and tone. And back then, Hank didn’t have time to ask questions.
In those days, he would hide in the downstairs bathroom while I switched off lights and locked doors, and when I’d sweep by, he’d jump out and grab me. I’d laugh and try to “pants” him as he ran upstairs. He might slip into the closet while I crept after him, Comanche-like. Then his hand would flick across my breast, and I’d sigh into his neck.
Tonight Hank flips off the T.V. and asks, “Ready to go up yet?”
I nod and head to the front of the house to check the door.
By the time I crawl into bed, face washed, teeth brushed, pee peed, Hank has the covers tucked under his chin. I can see him because every night during a commercial, I sneak upstairs, turn on my reading light, arrange my pillows.
As soon as I settle in, Hank opens one eye and mumbles, “Do you have to read?”
“Every night.”
Then I feel a warm and familiar leg against mine.
He asks, “Wanna?”
I turn out the light and roll into him.
Gay Degani began her writing adventure with a second place short story in the Atlantic Monthly High School contest. She is the author of “Leaving Slackerland” the first Nikki Hyland, Slacker Detective story, published in the recent Sisters-in-Crime Los Angeles anthology, Landmarked for Murder, “Hawaiian Hairdo” published in THEMA Literary Journal this fall, and a second Nikki Hyland story “Oh Hell” coming out December 2007 in the anthology, Little Sisters, Volume 1. She is currently working on a stand-alone mystery novel.
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39 Comments »
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I like this a lot.
This felt very authentic, Gay, the patchwork of emotions all finding space to co-exist. Wonderful. Thanks for sharing it.
Ah, married love at its finest. Well-written, warm and funny, and an enjoyable start to the morning. Thanks!
mike
An excellent story!
A nice warm know-each-other-too-well feel to this.
The only question that really matters, hm? Nice, Gay!
Great story, Gay! You know how much I enjoy your writing - I am delighted to see you here.
What a wonderful story - it captures 30 years in a 1000 words…amazing. I loved their relationship and the voice. Beautiful! Thanks, Gay!
Thanks everyone. This is very exciting for me. I’m a little embarrassed about a couple typos, but I guess I won’t go hide under the bed after all.
Typos, Gay? I found and fixed one, but if there are others I’ve missed, let me know and I’ll get them.
Yeah, shoot me a line on this one, I didn’t spot any typos either. Course, it was my b-day yesterday, so my eyes might be blurry….
Jordan,
Happy belated birthday wishes to you, bub.
mike
Thanks Mike!
Routine can be a wonderful thing. Nice story, Gay.
Love the voice of this piece - can hear the layers of love and frustration, contentment and complacency.
This feels so real it begs to be read out loud. A real gem.
Camille, you got it. The buttons to button. Not your fault.
There are a lot of layers of emotions in this one. Memorable.
Thank you, everybody, for making my day. I appreciate the kind words from each of you and the forum that Every Day Fiction affords us.
BEAUTIFULLY written and SUCH a joy to read!!
Gay
Always nice to see your words in print. Your story has authenticity. It resonates with all of us who have melded our lives with our spouses.
The comments from other readers say it all. Beautifully done! Even though I read this story in draft form many times it still left me with a smile and happy tears.
What a lovely short story, Gay, and what a pleasure to read! It is warm and cozy, and wonderfully familiar. I makes me appreciative all over again for my own loving, close-knit marriage with my husband.
Gay: This is great. I can relate to it in many ways. Long-time togetherness is very comforting. You’ve got the voice. Congrats! And thanks.
This is a really well written story. Short but sweet. That’s the way I like it! Good job!
I didn’t even catch the typos! Great story–keep it coming!
Thanks you guys. Your comments are pushing me back to the keyboard despite the holiday chaos. And to Camille and Jordan: Thank you again for this opportunity!
It’s incredibly hard to create such intimacy between characters with such brevity. Fantastic job–so real and organic!
Enjoyable!
So very good! So very realistic. Great character development, which is extremely difficult in such a short piece. Kudos!
I love this story—the voice and the details. It’s amazing how you were able to create such a full, vivid world in such a short amount of time. And the wry sense of humor carries it along.
I love this story. I appreciate that the repetitiveness is portrayed as comfortable rather than a nuisance. In my own marriage, it’s a great feeling to know that when all else around me is falling apart there’s stability at home to rely upon. I felt that in your story. Can’t wait to read more.
Very polished. I almost thought I knew them.
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Really enjoyed it.
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Stories like this are the reason flash fiction works. I second all the good stuff said here and mean all of it.
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