It was a damn mess, really, with no one but himself to blame. But he’d done what he’d done and there was no erasing it. He dreaded the coming clean, had thought it over in his head for weeks. No, ever since he fell into it. Maybe even before it began.
Now it was time.
He chose the time carefully. And the setting. Home was too personal. He didn’t want their home tainted with the imprint. He knew how things could resonate in the walls. He’d seen it growing up, how even after his mother was gone, their house still echoed her disapproval. It needed to be somewhere away.
But it couldn’t be anywhere too public. He could imagine some horrifying scene in a restaurant. Something he wouldn’t know how to handle, Leslie breaking down, sobbing, screaming over the salad course. Or dessert, if he couldn’t bring himself to say it before then. He’d feel all those eyes on him, like his mother’s eyes from the walls, condemning him, waiting for him to make everything right.
So, a compromise. A getaway. Just the two of them. No kids. A long weekend mellowed by afternoons spent making love. And he would make love to her, with all his heart and body. The straying had shown him how much he appreciated her steadiness. He’d make love to that, to their years together, to their future.
If there was one.
So he planned. Made reservations at the Door County resort she’d always wanted to visit. And Leslie had been thrilled — another nail in his heart — her cheeks pink as he told her about it.
“It’ll be perfect, Mark,” she said, her arms wrapped around his waist. “You’ll see. It’s exactly what you need to get back to your old self.”
Her hope gnawed holes in him.
The day of the outing dawned too beautiful. A blue sky, a fresh dusting of snow on the branches, but the roads glistened black with wet as they drove along the shore of Lake Michigan. The beach lay littered with tumbled ice blocks, their spires and hollows gleaming wetly where the water carved and dripped. Beyond, the water chopped thick as slush, the frozen green of old Coke bottles.
Leslie’s hand, warm and dry with winter chap, reached over for his and she squeezed his fingers in the quiet that had sidled between them.
Mark fixed his eyes on the road and drove.
As soon as they arrived, Leslie asked him to light a fire in the fireplace while she unpacked and changed in the bedroom.
He looked around, felt his eyes narrow. What was like this, these days, in this world full of filth, so unspoiled and innocent and redolent of happy memories? He hated it, the damned fireplace, with its granite and basalt, the stones rounded and heavy like a woman’s breasts. Hated the shining hardwood floor with its handmade rag rug, the cozy table for two nestled next to the kitchenette. Why did he pick this place? Why not a Budgetel, with its tacky, white-walled sameness? Now there was a place a man could come clean. An institution. Sterile. Unfeeling.
He was on one knee, stacking wood in the grate when Leslie came out, her brown hair in a ponytail, her face flushed from scrubbing. She wore one of the jog suits she wore around the house, gray with white stripes down the sleeves and pants.
“Still working on that fire?” she asked.
And something in him shattered, the need, the love, the happy memories of good times and their children and their life, all the little, hurtful, unkind things they’d said over the years that made him feel small and drove him to wander in the first place. He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his forehead, stroking, stroking, as though rubbing would take all this away. A sound came from somewhere, an animal sound not Mark, at least not as he once knew himself.
Leslie was on her knees at his side, an arm around him. “Mark! Are you okay? Talk to me! Mark!”
He swallowed, looked up, looked at her.
“I have something I have to tell you.”
Greta Igl is a former technical writer and self-proclaimed Jack-of-all-Trades. Her short fiction has been published in Long Story Short, Tuesday Shorts, Word Riot and Six Sentences. For more about Greta’s writing, please visit www.gretaigl.blogspot.com.
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24 Responses to “THE GETAWAY • by Greta Igl”
Comments
« THE NOVELIST • by Michael Mallory | Home | WAITING FOR THE LIGHT • by J. B. Hogan »
February 22nd, 2009 at 12:12 am
What an idiot.
February 22nd, 2009 at 12:47 am
Some vivid description of the area around Lake Michigan, but apart from this I’m afraid ‘The Getaway’ was told too blandly to grab my attention.
Again we have a story beginning ‘It was…” Even the second paragraph’s opening is a variation on this. Surely there are better ways of starting a narrative.
February 22nd, 2009 at 2:19 am
I think it’s a good idea but it needs a much more satisfying ending – doesn’t have to be either happy or sad, but just satisfying, I think.
Anne B
February 22nd, 2009 at 2:55 am
I rather liked the ending, because it left things open. Maybe he’s just going to tell her how much he loves her.
I did feel, though, that the way to the end could have been a little more gripping.
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:46 am
I guess I’m the odd man out. I thought it was a very good story. The pain was gut-ripping. The ending, inevitable. Good job, Greta!
February 22nd, 2009 at 6:36 am
Very fine story, pointed, good flow and detail. –
“All the little, hurtful, unkind things they’d said over the years…” para. 17 – “They’d said” or HE, Mark said?
At his suggestion of an outing which would heal the wounds to be caused by his confession, “Leslie had been thrilled –another nail in his heart” para. 7
“Her hope gnawed holes in him.” para. 9
“The day of the outing dawned too beautiful.” para. 10
“What was like this …so unspoiled and innocent and redolent of happy memories? He hated it…” para. 14
He has it all prepared to make a new start, but asks himself why he didn’t choose a motel with “tacky, white-walled sameness …. An institution. Sterile. Unfeeling.” para. 14
At the very inception of their stay at this place which he planned to heal their old wounds, allow forgiveness of confessions of past wrongs, and rekindle love, Leslie noticing Mark’s disturbance, says “Talk to me!” para 18
And before anything else could be said or done and before one hour could be spent enjoying the loveliness of the resort, Mark dashes it all by starting with his heart stabbing confession. “I have something I have to tell you.” para 20
Built up to strike down. It was the same old thing he probably did before, done again.
February 22nd, 2009 at 8:22 am
I loved the ending. We don’t know wether he qill break things off with her, not say anything, or just tell her abou tthe affair and see what happens.
February 22nd, 2009 at 8:26 am
No one’s contradicted my ‘It was…’ comment, so we should all take it as a lesson learned!
Anyone disagree?
February 22nd, 2009 at 8:28 am
Great story! Very well done.
February 22nd, 2009 at 8:37 am
Paul, I’d be happy to contradict your comment
That said, I respect your right to disagree and appreciate you taking time to comment.
Since this is written in close 3rd, I wrote the opening line as I thought Mark would think it. There are many ways to begin a story; this was the way I felt was best.
Thanks to all. Your feedback is appreciated.
Greta
February 22nd, 2009 at 9:56 am
I liked this story and have no problem with an “It was…” beginning. The voice and flow were great and the story touched on the perils of married life–and, PM’s observation is correct on Mark’s idiocy.
Ben Franklin said ‘…before you’re married keep your eyes wide open; afterwards keep them half closed’
Goes for the mouth, too!
–dj
February 22nd, 2009 at 11:49 am
I thought the story was gripping and the language enthralling. I would have given it four stars but the ending knocked it down to three. I have to agree that it just wasn’t satisfying. Nevertheless, I very much look forward to reading more of your work.
February 22nd, 2009 at 1:33 pm
Nice story, Greta. I am amazed at how you choose the landscape to target the conditions on the inside. That the beauty and poetry of the getaway served to highlight Mark’s guilt, to isolate and condemn him, was a nice touch.
I think what bothers me most about a man like Mark is that he actually believed he would make love to Leslie during the same weekend of his confession. (A long weekend mellowed by afternoons spent making love) This is a man who deserves the long ride back home.
Personally, I have no hope that Mark is going to tell Leslie anything but the truth about his betrayal. For me, the story reflected Mark’s struggle with coming clean, and how “best” to do it. I think the ending demonstrates that there is no best way, and the only way to come clean is to just do it. I agree with P.M. Lawrence: This guy is an idiot.
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:33 pm
I loved the language and the sick feeling rising as I realised what he’d done and what he planned to do. That said, I felt disappointed by the ending. The last paragraph left me where the first paragraph had placed me.
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:34 pm
I, personally, loved this story and gave it a five. The scenery was described well and the emotions developed thoroughly. The ending is perfect, in my opinion, because it leaves the reader to imagine what came next….leaves the reader wanting more of the story, wanting to know “what happened next.” As for the beginning….I think that in a lot of cases, “It was” is a terrible way to start a story; however, in this particular case, I think it works perfectly. Had the author started, “It was a dark and stormy night” or some other cliche beginning, then I would say the author had taken the easy way out. In this case, though, the author says, “It was a damn mess,” which is neither cliche nor boring. I suppose the author could’ve written, “My life was a damn mess” instead, but the rest of the sentence clears up what, exactly, “it” is so that the beginning does, in fact work. What a great story! Good job!
February 23rd, 2009 at 12:56 am
Would have worked better for me if what he did wasn’t made so obvious.
“unkind things they’d said over the years that made him feel small and drove him to wander in the first place.”
So unless he’s going to confess to getting arrested for trespass it’s pretty obvious he must have cheated on her. For me I’d rather guess at what his deep dark secret was, after all it was only teased for 90% of the story.
Not really my cup of tea but otherwise well written.
February 23rd, 2009 at 6:36 am
The ending is so pointed, so satisfying in literary craft, right in keeping with what we know of Mark’s other statements. It was a very effective ending, like a dagger slash after some pin pricks.
February 23rd, 2009 at 11:21 am
Well-crafted. Realistic, poignant.
Of course we know what’s coming. The suspense is if the protag will make that journey.
Top-drawer stuff. Congrats!
February 23rd, 2009 at 2:42 pm
Interesting story. I like the angle, that the whole conflict of the story is whether or not Mark is actually going to say anything. I think the open-ending actually closes the story, as it’s obvious he’s going to come clean. A good take on what is a well-portrayed struggle for our narrator.
February 24th, 2009 at 11:06 am
I really liked this story. I liked the way you portrayed the emotional angst against the various locations. I liked the ending, as well. I don’t need to know what happened next or what his wife said, I just need to know that he’s going to tell her the truth.
March 1st, 2009 at 6:20 am
Fantastic, gripping. Found the ending sharply perfect.
March 1st, 2009 at 10:52 am
I had the pleasure of seeing this in its “gestation” period and I like what you decided to do with it. I recall one of the points others brought up was the ending; how some didn’t care to be left hanging. I agree with Ms. Hale who notes it is “sharply perfect.” Many short stories can perpetuate and become longer works, but just because you can do a thing doesn’t necessarily mean you should.
Thank you for your story.
–John
March 6th, 2009 at 3:15 am
Ahhh…leave ‘em wantin’ more. Nice.
March 6th, 2009 at 4:25 pm
I like a story that make the reader think and delegates something of the story to the reader. Far too many stories simply spell things out. This one is clever in that it ends at a fork in the narrative. Thanks.