“Please, for the love of God, shut the hell up!” My stupid wife wouldn’t shut up. I cracked a beer open, walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. The T.V. in front of me was small and balanced on top of a stack of old phonebooks placed on the countertop. Before sitting down, I remembered the remote had been broken a couple of days ago by my wife. It had to all be done manually now. I pushed the power button and watched as the television showed a screen full of black and white pixels. Flipped the channel and the same thing. Fuck… the cable bill wasn’t paid this month. I turned it off and returned to my seat at the table where my beer awaited my presence. It was my only comfort after a long day of work. What I looked forward to most of the time. I took a sip. Goddamn, that’s good. The cold bubbles tickled my tongue and my throat as it slowly descended into my stomach. I reached for the saltshaker in the middle of the table and began to pour it out. Slowly creating a mountain of salt as big as the tip of my pinky finger. I’d most likely get yelled at for this. Speaking of the devil, I hadn’t heard my wife in over five minutes. Something was wrong.
I looked down the hallway to see if I could get a quick glimpse of her without being noticed. It was dark, the only thing lighting the inside of my house were the streetlights outside. Each stream of light revealing a different picture hung on the wall. My favorite one though was still hidden in the dark. It was a picture of my wife posing on a bench in the park. Her hair was loosely curled and she was wearing a long white dress with no sleeves. She was beautiful. I loved her once. I still do. Those times were special, they were easy. I remember that day; she wanted me to take her picture.
“Babe, like this.” She lay on the cement bench with the lake in the background. Awkwardly placing her forearm on top of her forehead, she tried to look sexy. Her blonde hair hung down over the armrest of the bench and grazed the dirt. She didn’t care. I brought the camera to my face and snapped the picture, capturing the moment forever.
“Alright, I got it. Can we go now?” The heat was getting to my head and beads of sweat were making their way on to my lips. The taste was salty. My wife looked up from her “sexy” pose and we made eye contact. Those big brown eyes that made my heart skip a beat. She got up quickly and sprinted at me. Tackling me on the grass, placing all of her weight on my waist. She smiled and the ends of her hair were tickling my face. “Get off of me.”
My wife placed her hands on my sides and began to squeeze. She knew I was ticklish and she was taking advantage. “Son of a bitch,” I tried to squirm, but it was too much she had me pinned. “I’m gonna pee! Please get off!” Finally, I was able to maneuver my body in an 180-degree turn finding myself on top of her.
“What the hell? How’d you do that?” Her giggles were infectious. They were the kind that made you smile just hearing them. I knew I had fallen in loveI looked further down the hallway and saw the lamp light on in our room. It was curious to me to see the shadow of my wife flickering against the farthest wall. She was sitting, crouched somewhere in the room, I assumed the bed, her knees to her chest. I could see a rectangular figure being held near her face, she was looking at something. Walking quietly and slowly toward our room, I started to hear a soft whimpering. I peaked my head around the corner catching a glimpse of what she was holding and turning back. I wasn’t seen. It was the picture that we kept on the nightstand next to our bed.
The two of us were standing in the middle of the desert. My arm was around her and both of us were smiling. Another example of our happiness stuck behind this glass, incased in this frame. I walked into the room, my beer still in hand. She looked at me and I back at her. Those beautiful brown eyes. She put the picture down and turned herself so she lay on the bed. I walked to the other side and laid next to her. Feeling the pillow against the back of my head, I stared at the ceiling. I felt her watching me out the corner of her eye. We both sighed. Neither of us said anything. I just thought. Thought about our first date at Coney Island where I confessed my deepest fear of carnies. The day I proposed to her in the middle of the street when it was pouring outside, I didn’t even have enough money for a ring. I thought about kissing her at this moment. Turning over and bringing her face toward mine, feeling her soft, moist lips. She shut off the light. It was dark. I didn’t see her anymore.
