R.V. Roush
�That�s not driving,� I�d blown up at him the last time I let him drive. �That�s holding the wheel and watching the road.�
I�d usually get a couple of slices of toast and some coffee if I got to Jack�s house early enough to wait for him. But I�m too early this morning.
One of his boys, Brian, answers the door. I see Jack�s kids more than I see my own, but only because the mothers of my children don�t want me in their lives or my kids� lives.
�Hi, Trent. Daddy and mommy are still in the bedroom.�
Brian�s maybe 10, with a head full of auburn hair. He leaves the door open as an invitation to enter, and then shouts toward the bedroom, �Can I go ahead and fix myself a bowl of cereal, Dad?�
I try to get a peek down the hallway into the Landeck bedroom. Brian catches me and I try to look innocent. The smell of cigarette smoke is strong, even though the whoosh of air from the closing front door adds a few fresh fertilization notes from the Landeck�s front lawn.
�And Timmy wants a piece of toast and jelly,� Brian calls. �Mr. McKelvenny�s here.�
I imagine Maya mechanically stretching on her white nursing hose. When they�d first started dressing together after sex, she probably pulled the hose on slowly, watching Jack�s reaction. He�d wait to see what lay at the top of her thighs, to see how high she�d lift her slip before standing and letting it fall, snapping the elastic around her waist.
I worry that I�ve arrived too early, that maybe before-breakfast nookie was making Jack later than usual. Maya would be holding a grudge against him all day, sardonically emphasizing that she doesn�t really have time, now, to make the boys a decent breakfast. Every drip of spermicide into her pantyliner would remind her of how disappointing the morning had been, and she�d have to remind Jack about her discomfort so he�d think twice the next time he begged in the morning.
Who needs that?
�You want some cereal, too, Mom,� Brian shouts with enthusiasm from the kitchen.
�Thanks, Brian,� Maya tells him as she and a cool breeze pass me in the entrance hall. �I�ll just have some coffee. Please help Timmy with the jelly. You know, Timmy might learn how to help himself if you�d wipe the rim of the jelly jar so the lid doesn�t stick so tight.�
�I like to see him get his shirt all gooey and purple trying to get it open,� Brian says playfully.
�Hey, Trent,� Jack greets me in the hallway. �That boy�s such a little worm. How�re you this morning? We lost you early last night.�
I don�t like to talk about my social life around Maya. It�s no secret that she�s not my biggest fan. She�s got every reason to be insecure about Jack being out with me. I can�t count the times that Jack�s told me that Maya�s got a wild hair or a bug up her ass about something. Most often it�s about money and how Jack wastes it. When the talk turns to economics, it�s evident that the boredom of a relationship has set in. The price of things and pride in getting the lowest price deadens higher romantic aspirations�meaning there�s no more talk of greased oblong vegetables.
He once told me, �I feel stagnant with Maya.�
�You�ve defended that feeling in the past,� I�d responded.
�Maya says it�s settling in pains, but after 11 years, we should be through that.�
�If you don�t stretch it too far.�
�Try to be someone who thrives in stagnation. Like algae in a pond. You can try all kinds of romantic, spontaneous shit from a how-to article in Cosmo to liven up your sex life, but I think you should face it. You found each other for the long term because you�re both looking for the same thing�routine.�
�Then why do I admire your life?� He hadn�t seemed at all insulted, and I knew he wouldn�t when I�d disparaged him with the truth of his character.
�It�s a fantasy that can�t work with you.� In fact, Jack�s frequent complaints were simply his way of working himself up into a frenzy of dissatisfaction, hoping to take some courage from that to make a change in his life. It�s the weakness in him that I dislike. I hide it.
�I admire your steadiness with Maya,� I�d told him. �Don�t disillusion me with bullshit talk about getting something strange on the side. You�d never be able to hide it from Maya. She�s your best friend. You couldn�t help yourself telling her.�
I hated having to tell him to stay with Maya, but I have more confidence that they belong together than apart, as sad a commentary as that is about Jack�s need for a firm hand.
�What�re you doing today?� Jack asks Maya. She�s setting a fifth place at the table and popping bread in the toaster.
�The usual.�
�How�s Mrs. Blackmon doing?� Jack asks. I wonder if Maya is impressed that he remembers one of her patient�s names.
�Still got some cancer near her tailbone. Doctors can�t reach it.�
�She must be in real pain.�
�She would be if the doctors didn�t inject morphine directly into her lower spine. Could we not talk about this in front of the kids?� She takes a deep puff on a cigarette and sets the cigarette in an ashtray on the sink.
The kids are busy at their breakfast cereal. Brian has gotten around to jellying his brother�s toast. With her back turned from me, I notice Maya�s long black hair arranged tightly, pinned into a bun against to her scalp. I imagine her brushing it in long, purposeful strokes, not noticing herself in the dresser mirror.
�Okay. It�s just that you get in so late sometimes, we hardly talk about things.� Jack bends and rubs a dab of saliva on a scuff at the side of his shoe heel.
� 2004 R.V. Roush