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Charles Harper Webb

Sandi doesn’t like Dan much, but loves his house. She comes over before he’s home from work, to gaze into its window-eyes.
She wheedles her own key. ("That’s good," Dan thinks. "We’re getting close.") Now she can visit when he isn’t there to interrupt as her bare feet caress the hardwood floors, as her hands linger on gleaming knobs and faucets, as she strokes the long, smooth balustrade, and explores every chamber of this heart she adores.
Though Dan’s frog-belly makes her wince, his slobbery kiss makes her shudder, the feel of him inside her can only be endured if she is drunk or stoned, she marries him, pretending it’s the house on top of her, the house into whose ear she cries, to whom she whispers, "I love you. Good night."
How awful when, after a year of bliss, Dan wins promotion to a better town.
The "For Sale" sign in the yard pierces her heart.
She makes phone calls. She hires workmen and machines. Dan comes home with two First Class tickets, to find wife and house gone.
"We’ll move from state to state," she mouths through the rear window of the truck that tows her love. "We’ll paint, remodel, whatever it takes." 
When rain begins to fall, she climbs from the truck to the house, and as asphalt hisses by, kisses the wet windows one by one. "It’s hard for me, too, Sweetheart," she whispers. "Please don’t cry."

This entry was posted on Friday, January 12th, 2007 at 11:00 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.