The Dishes

Page 2 of 5

He pulled himself a mug from the taps, and tossed a plastic ashtray on the bar in front of me.  I grabbed my pack out of my pocket and set it on the bar.

"Not worried about the cops tonight?"

"Nah, no one's here, they'll skip us.  Hate that damned law anyways.  Almost killed this place when they started it."  We each lit a cigarette and took that first, deep drag normally indicative of a long day at some hard, physical work.  He took almost half his mug at a swallow, and I took a couple of good drinks from mine.  We sat for a moment or two in silence, I waiting for him, while he tried (I assume) to find a good starting point.  Finally he did.

"You know, Chrissie was a lot like Lisa.  I see that when you guys come in here together.  Same energy, same level of intensity.  Had that same no-nonsense, git-er-done-now mentality.  Used to bug the hell out of me.  

"I was a lot like you.  Stubborn, a bit too much pride, almost arrogant.  Not trying to get on to you or anything, just want to let you know where this starts."  I nodded to assure him no harm was done, and took a drink from my mug.

"Anyways, one night--this was when we first got married, only a couple of weeks after the honeymoon--we got into it over who was going to do the dishes.  I'd had a hard day at work, and it was my turn--we switched off every night--but I didn't want to.  I just wanted to sit back, have a beer or two, and watch a bit of TV before bed.  

"One thing led to another, and before you know it I'm red in the face, screaming at her, she's screaming back at me, just on and on and on.  I walked out of the house and slammed the door behind me.  Didn't know where I was going, didn't care.  Just needed to get away from it before I said something stupid.

"So I walked.  It was a nice night, middle of August when it starts to cool down in the evenings, with about a half moon giving a decent amount of light where the street lights didn't catch.  About an hour later, I was a good distance from the house, ended up by the forests out there by Johnson road, over where the Chevron station is now.  Now here's where it starts to get crazy.  I need a refill before I go on; you want one too?"  I still had barely touched mine, while he finished his while waiting for an answer.  I shook my head, and pulled out another cigarette.  He pulled me another one anyways, and set it down beside my current mug.

"Here, this way I might not have to get up, and if it gets warm I'll just get you another one anyways.  Draft's cheap--that glass you're drinking from cost more than a case worth of beer out of the keg.

"Anyways, like I said, I was out by the forests, walking along, still mad.  I don't know..."

...exactly what it was that made me look up across the road at that part of the forest right then, but something did.  A sound, maybe just a weird feeling.  But I looked up into the underbrush, and there was this...this thing there, about halfway hidden by the brush and the shadows cast by the moon, and it was looking at me.

< Prev |Page 1 |Page 3 |Page 4 |Page 5 |Next >