The Spill

He found her name among his contacts and pressed the green button. As the phone dialed and began to ring he lifted it to his ear, a mischievous grin on his face. A tired, bored voice came over the line. “Hey”, it said with familiarity. “Hey!” he said cheerfully. “How’s it going?” she sighed. “Well, you know. Just getting things straightened up before I put dinner on. Peter’s at the Johansson’s and Leila’s at band practice. I’m about to leave to get her after I get finished sweeping up.” “Yeah?” He glanced to the side, checking the mirror, and switched lanes. “Listen, why don’t you go driving with me tonight?” She paused. “What?” “Yeah, I’ll pick you up, and we’ll drive somewhere.” Another pause. “Jack, you just heard me say I had to get Leila.” He shrugged. “She can get a ride to a friend’s house. Who’s that one with the braces and the broken wrist? Uh…karly?” “It’s Karen”, she supplied, “and no, she’s at the Lake.” His brow furrowed. “What about Janie? They haven’t seen each other in awhile.” She sighed again. He didn’t like it when she sighed. “Janie dated a boy they both liked and now they don’t talk, remember? It was all she talked about for weeks.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s gotta be somebody. Doesn’t she have any more friends?” “Jack, what kind of a question is that?” her voice took on an annoying edge. “What’s so important that we have to drop everything and go see?” This time he sighed. “Look, you just be ready to go. You know, put on something fun and nice. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” Her voice was weary. “What about Leila?” “Listen, I’ll take care of it. I’ll text her and make sure she’s squared away. Her voice was just weary enough to relent. “Well…ok. I’ll just…ok. I’ll see you.” “I Love you”, he said, but she had hung up before she heard. He pulled the phone away and saw that the line was disconnected, frowned, and slid it into his shirt pocket. There was a car in the lane behind him that wouldn’t let him over. He put on the brakes and waited until it passed to sidle over to his exit. There was a hotel on the corner, and he slid his car into an open space. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, squinted, and wiped the corners of his eyes with his middle finger. He got out and opened his trunk, and took out a hang-up travel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he walked toward the entrance, texting with his free hand. “Hey can u get a ride to friends hous” was what he sent. The man behind the counter was overweight, and seemed eager to give a hollow, corporate sounding greeting, but Jack gave him a curt nod and turned his head away, walking toward the bathroom. It was a single room, and he hung the bag on the hook on the back of the door, taking out a bright, Hawaiian print shirt, some tasteful khaki shorts and a pair of sandals, folding the clothes over the edge of the sink and tossing the shoes down to the floor. He took off his suit jacket and hanged it on the hook, then loosened his tie and pulled it out. The end of it fluttered down to the wet part of the sink, and he cursed under his breath as he balled it up and put it in the suit pocket. He pulled the belt off and hung it on the hook, and slid his pants off to reveal a boring set of briefs. He had planned for this, too, and quickly exchanged them for a pair of plaid boxer shorts. Unbuttoning his shirt, he arranged it, his pants, his suit jacket and his tie on the hanger and put it back in the bag, zipping it up. He put on the shorts and Hawaiian shirt and slid into the sandals, bending over to work the straps. His phone buzzed as he walked back to the car- “can go to Janie’s can I spend the night???” he replied “if its ok with her parents then ok be safe” and put the bag back in the trunk. He pulled out of the parking lot and navigated the series of side streets to get back home. As he pulled into the driveway he tried his best to pull off a cool, natural air. He worked the controls to the automatic roof mechanism and his canvas top began to contort itself and reveal the interior of the car to the outside world. He honked the horn and waited for a few minutes, but when she didn’t come out he got out and walked through the front door. She was sweeping the contents of a dustpan into the trash can under the sink. He brightened. “Hey!” she straightened out, stretching her back and grunting softly, and looked up. “Hey.” He leaned in and kissed her, presumably a perfunctory peck of introduction, and then wrapped his arms around her and didn’t pull away. She began to pull away, confused, having assumed it would be a purely symbolic gesture, but soon realized its passionate intent, and abandoned herself to it. They stood like this for several moments, and when it was done he said “Let’s go.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ok.”
They pulled out of their neighborhood and onto the highway. She was sitting, poised an alert, ready to get out wherever they were going and perform some routine procedure, looking straight ahead, as if she was arranging something in her mind. He was relaxed and confident, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, and resting the arm closest to hers on the center console. “Relax” he said, looking over. “It’s just me.” She glanced over to him and drooped her shoulders, letting out a long deep sigh. “So, how has everything been with you?” She gathered her thoughts for a moment. “Oh, you know. Just getting through the list. There’s so much to be done.” He looked over at her. “No, really. I mean it. How are you?” She was surprised by the emphasis. She took a breath. “Well, I mean…it’s been ok. I’ve been a little worn out lately, you know? There’s so much to do. It seems like I never get a moment when I’m not doing something for somebody else.” He nodded. “You do a really good job with everything.” She smiled a small smile and leaned back further into the chair. They were turning onto a country road. “I can tell you’re making progress with your diet group.” She looked down at herself. “Really? I can’t seem to get to where I can tell in the mirror.” He nodded. “Really.” It was silent for a few minutes. They rounded curves and passed through pastures and fields where corn and tobacco were raised in the summer. He leaned over and turned on the radio. He switched it from the news talk station to a top-40, but nothing was on, so he put in a CD that he’d had since they’d started dating. She remembered the song. The ride passed in pleasant silence until they got to another little town. He pulled into a fast food place where they used to go for milkshakes. “Oh, Jack, I can’t. It’s too fattening.” “You’ve been doing really good lately”, he countered. “But it’s not on the plan”, she persisted. “It’s on my plan. You’re on the Jack Henry diet plan tonight. Satisfaction guaranteed.” She rolled her eyes. “As long as I get my money back.” They rolled through the drive through and got a chocolate milkshake with two straws. He turned back towards home. They were about forty-five minutes out. They took turns getting the cup out of the center console and taking laborious pulls on the straw until they could coax a bit of the shake out. “Hey, you’re hogging it.” She shrugged. “You should have gotten two, you cheapskate.” He shook his head. “I happen to be a very thrifty guy. I don’t see a problem with that.” They rounded a corner and there was a squirrel out in the middle of the road. “Oh, Jack, watch out!” He swerved to the left into the other lane and managed to miss the squirrel, but the shake was all over her sweater. He corrected his course and she sat there, her hand on her chest, arched eyebrows, breathing quick and shallow breaths. “It’s ok, baby. We’re fine.” She noticed the stain then, and started pawing it exasperatedly with both hands, unsure what to do. He furrowed his brow in consternation and got a napkin from the door pocket for her. She was trying to wipe off the excess but the sweater was clearly ruined. They kept going until they were almost home, and she sat in silence for a while until she finally began sobbing, first quietly, and then steadily, and when he looked over he saw her frantic attempts to cover her face. She was crying quite fully now, and he pulled the car over and got out. “No, no…it’s ok…it’s fine…” she kept repeating, but he opened her door and pulled her up and held her, and his touch set her off again. Her chest heaved as she entered the throes of a sustained session of mourning, unable to curtail it despite her best efforts. He rubbed her back. “Baby.” he said. “Baby. Shh.” His head was resting on hers as she collapsed into him and they stood like that for quite a while. He looked around and saw that there was a herd of cows across the street, separated from them by a barbed wire fence. He pulled away from her and sat down in the passenger seat and pulled her back to him, and she sat on his lap as he brushed her hair out of her face. Her cheeks were red and puffy and her eyes squinted and mucous streamed from her nose that she wiped away with the milkshake stained napkin so frequently that it began to come apart. He rocked her gently back and forth. “Baby.” He held her for half an hour, enjoying the warmth of her skin and smelling her hair and listening to her sorrow trickle out until it began to get dark. Then she stood up and he brushed her tear away and got back to his side. Their hands were tightly clenched together on the center console of the car, and he worked the switch that brought the roof back overhead. When they got home, without waiting she took off the sweater gingerly and laid it on the table, going upstairs in her brassiere. He watched, sitting on a barstool, surveying the pockmarked porcelain of her back, as she disappeared up the stairs. Peter came clamoring into the house. “Hey, Dad.” Jack looked up. “Hey, Pete. What’s up?” Peter shrugged, slinging his book bag into the corner, remembering mid-swing that he shouldn’t, and expecting a quick reproach. When it didn’t come, he was puzzled. He saw the sweater on the table. “That Mom’s?” Jack nodded. “Mmhmm.” He noticed the stain, prominent and menacing. “It looks pretty messed up. What happened?” Jack didn’t answer right away. Then he sighed a deep sigh and got up to get a beer from the fridge. “It was your grandmother’s.”