Write365

(prompt from the Write Brain workbook)

It was just a teeny-weeny lie… I told my boss I had to leave work early to let the maintenance guy in to fix our water heater. Of course the water heater wasn’t really broken, and even if it was, all that meant was a cold shower in the morning. Something that might have come in useful after my secret tryst with Marco.

My heart had been pounding all morning, ever since I got his email, asking me to come over to his house. His wife was away for a few days, though he phrased it differently than that. I believe he said “I’m a bachelor till Friday.” Funny how the language we use makes our own morality. Just like lies about mundane things like water heaters make even an adulterous liaison seem like just another part of a blase life. Albeit the most exciting part.

I could barely eat lunch in anticipation. I hadn’t seen him over a year and had given up anything more ever happening with him. He was kind of an asshole, and an emotionally unavailable one at that. Though being a married woman myself, I wasn’t totally turned off by that. Basically I just wanted him, but couldn’t really explain why. He emailed me directions to his house and with a “good luck with the water heater!” from my boss, I skipped off for an afternoon delight.

I pulled up to his house in the country, which looked disconcertingly like my own house in the country. I could easily imagine trading this house, this man, for my own. But what would be the point of that. The bright afternoon sun made my naturally timid personality come out and I felt like an oaf. Where do women learn to be seductresses? I was clearly not cut out for this. We started kissing and undressing despite the awkwardness and just as I started relaxing, I heard a car pull up. He looked unnaturally calm and I acted alarmingly panicked. Luckily, I had a secret power that Marcus or his wife didn’t know about. I could make myself invisible.

I quickly put my clothes back on, grabbed my purse and ran around a corner in order to transform. Marcus was following behind me talking, clearly trying to rehearse a lie. What he didn’t realize was that the water heater lie was as much as I was capable of. I couldn’t lie in the face of someone who would quickly deduce the truth. Even if my intentions in her husband’s house were innocent, I would still look and sound as guilty as I actually was. So, I pulled a small vial from my purse and ingested a silver capsule given to me by my great uncle Shem. He knew what was up. He’d given them to me for christmas last year after an honest, yet drunken, heart to heart about my marriage. He’d been using these things for years.

I watched Marcus gasp as I slowly dissolved in front of him. I stood stock still as I watched his wife open the door, a look of anger and betrayal already written on her face. I couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t the first time that look had crossed her face. Marcus was fantastic at many things, and lying was definitely one of them. “Hey Babe!” he bellowed as he strode over and gave her a giant bear hug. I fumed with jealousy and briefly considered reappearing, which was always an option. But I hated to see anyone’s heart break, even if it was my adversary in love.

As they walked upstairs to talk about why she was home and what he was doing and why there was a strange car in the driveway, I quietly exited, got in my car and drove away. How did he explain the car? I have no idea, nor do I care. I’m sure it was an adept lie that made her almost doubt the fact that he had cheated again. Enough to make her wonder if she was just going crazy or if she had married a lousy, philandering shithead.

Meanwhile, I was driving home, gradually coming back into the visual plane. I passed nobody for the 20 minutes until I got to the highway, so as far as I know, there were no reports of a fire engine red mini driving itself. I sniffed myself for telltale smells and tried to stop my heart from beating fast before I walked in the door. I arrived home at the time I normally would from work so I hoped to avoid having to tell another lie. If my husband found me out, it would take more than a silver pill to make it all better.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was leaving town for the Shwartz family Christmas in less than 48 hours. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my family. But more than one relative of mine has a screw or two loose. I can’t nail down exactly what it is…maybe the melancholy German genes in us, or the knack for addictions, or the tendency to fly off the handle. Whatever it is, though, it always makes for interesting get-togethers.

Take my father for example. At 72, he’s as sharp as a tack. Once a member of Mensa and a key player in Air Force Intelligence during the Cold War, now he spends his time renovating an old bed & breakfast. I’m not talking about touching up some paint here and there either. I’m talking about laying floorboards, putting up drywall, rewiring electricity. That type of thing.

My mom on the other hand is a little bit wired. Hailing from England,she drinks a lot of tea. That seems to keep her pretty perky and also annoyingly positive. If anyone had a god given right to be named “Pollyanna,” it would be my mother.I appreciate her good humor, but she can make my sisters fly off the handle.

“That’s my favorite color, you know,” he said as we stood in the parking lot.

I looked down at my sweater to see what color it was. Green. Not just green, but seafoam green.

I imagined the two of us in the waters of South Florida, kayaking around islands, looking for wildlife. He’d be far ahead of me, confidently paddling away, excited by the possibility of what was ahead. He excelled at everything. He was fearless. The gap between us would widen and I’d be out on my own, frightened and feeling abandoned. I’d call out to him but he wouldn’t hear me. I’d look back toward the shore but it was too far to go back alone, so I’d steel myself, paddle hard and catch up to him. I’d feel green from sea-sickness and would want to yell at him, but then he’d turn to me with a smile and I would forgive him instantly.

Or maybe it wasn’t seafoam green, it was the green of pine trees. We’d be out for a hike and he’d tell me all about the natural history of the area. Obscure things about history and how to survive if you were stranded out here in a snowstorm.  He’d ask me if I knew that the botanical name of this particular pine tree was Pinus Strobus and I’d say “no.” I’d be amazed by his brilliance but he’d make me feel green, like an unripened tomato. I’d never know as much as he did or be as interesting, or have as much to say. Then he’d give me the kind of bear hug that squeezed all the air out of my lungs and I’d think that I had died and gone to heaven.

Or perhaps it was the green of a shamrock on St. Patrick’s day. We’d go to Ireland on our honeymoon. We’d go to a pub and I’d drink too much beer as he charmed the locals with stories from America. They’d say how surprised they were at how funny and smart Americans could be. Then, I’d be green with envy as he learned Irish dancing from a pretty redhead. He picked it up instantly and danced with her all night.

Back in the parking lot, I told him I couldn’t see him anymore. Of course, he was calm about it. He just shrugged his shoulders and said “Well, I guess the grass is always greener. Have a good life.” I cried as I walked away.