I hung up consumed by an elation I hadn’t felt in years. A light had broken through the encasement that surrounded my career, a small chink that might widen into a hole I could pull myself through along with my family. The thought of the short commute to Portland wearing a tie and loafers instead of jeans and rain boots was like the dose of some glorious drug.
I entered the house and heard music playing somewhere upstairs. There was the heavy smell of fried food in the kitchen. And when I opened a white takeout box on the counter, I saw it held the remains of some type of noodles and dark, coiled shapes wound throughout them. I sniffed again, realizing what the oily forms were.
Eels.
My mouth puckered with distaste. I hated eel, and up until that point I thought Del had too. Her appetite had remained good until then, her tastes never including the stereotypical cravings of most pregnant women. Until now that was.
“Honey?” I called. No response. I moved through the living room and caught sight of her standing in the veranda, her back to me. There was a languidness to her posture, as if she’d fallen asleep standing up. “Del,” I said, moving closer. She turned her head a little, showing me a slight angle of her face.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking outside. What’s it look like I’m doing?” The acidic edge to her voice caught me off guard. Emotional swing, I figured, and tried a different tack.
“I got a call today from Edward and Towe.”
“Who?”
“The firm I applied to a few weeks back, remember?”
“Oh yeah.”
I waited, hoping she would turn fully to look at the smile on my face, but she returned her gaze to the sea instead.
“Yeah. I got an interview in the morning.”
“That’s great,” she said, but her tone said otherwise. It was as if I’d told her the mail was here or that my mother was coming to visit next week.
“I think it could be the one,” I said, still trying to engage her, but she didn’t respond. She picked up a glass of water from the windowsill and took a drink before setting it down.
“I’m really tired,” she murmured after a drawn silence. She moved toward the stairs, turning her shoulders so that she wouldn’t brush against me, and left me standing in the doorway alone with my good news that had deflated like a pricked balloon. Some quiet music clicked on a moment later upstairs.
I hovered there for nearly a minute before stepping into the porch to stand where she had. The skies were overcast and low, threatening a cool, fall rain. The ocean was a frenzied wash of whitecaps and breakers that tossed foam high into the air wherever it touched an outcropping of rock. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time began to invade me. The last time I’d encountered it was the first year of college when I’d seen my steady girlfriend of the moment out with one of our teacher’s aides at a restaurant after she’d told me she was heading to her parents’ house upstate for the weekend.
My hand trembled slightly as I reached out to pick up Del’s glass from the sill. A weakness flooded my muscles like poison as thoughts that I would’ve scoffed at hours ago whirlwinded through my mind. Absentmindedly I brought her cup to my mouth and took a drink.
I gagged, spitting onto the wood floor.
The glass was full of saltwater.
Abhorred, I brought the tumbler up and looked at it, holding it to the gray light. Particles and brown bits I didn’t want to identify swirled within it. I stared in the direction of our room and listened to the music pour down from where my wife had gone.
~
I didn’t get the job.