<\/p>\n
The lantern my wife believes I\u2019ve returned is still sitting in my shotgun seat. As we leave for church, she opens the door and finds it sitting in her spot, lacking the courtesy to move an inch. We bought it thinking we\u2019d camp more. It\u2019s good as new, so there\u2019ll be a full refund, we hope. It sits in the trunk as we sing our hymns. Brent approaches us, dressed in a silk polo white as light. No one thinks of people making it by twenty five, but Brent\u2019s the guy who made it happen. When I think of him, I see his corner office at Mutual of Omaha, his high-rise condo downtown\u2014with a pool on the roof\u2014and his Audi S4, which I always notice in the church\u2019s parking lot. We were roommates in college, before I got married and set in my ways. He invites us to dinner and naturally, I accept.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat should we bring?\u201d Brenda asks as we enter our apartment.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWine. Brent likes wine.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat kind?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I put the keys in our bowl, trying to remember. Our apartment walls are drab and gray. Something smells like rotten eggs.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHe likes a dry merlot.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGross.\u201d She rubs her forehead.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou all right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJust a headache.\u201d I feel it too. It\u2019s the Sunday of an unkind week.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n She heads into our bedroom and shuts the door. I take a seat on the couch and turn on the tv. There isn\u2019t a damn thing on. Just Star Trek reruns, old westerns, and 2000s cop shows. Typical Sunday mush. A Verizon ad plays. Commercial people in a wide, empty space talking about things that don\u2019t matter, laughing at things that aren\u2019t funny. I\u2019m depressed by the end of it. The feeling comes unwelcoming, like always, dull in my chest and heavy in my head. I think it\u2019s the feeling of my life passing by, warning lights telling me it\u2019s too late to save the ship. I sit and watch them flash. My eyes follow whatever moves on the screen. It\u2019s a hollow feeling, to be sure I\u2019m not living right and haven\u2019t for some time. To not know the way or back or even believe there is one.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019ve thought of divorce. Brenda and I married young and quick, which shouldn\u2019t be a big deal if you\u2019ve found the one, but maybe I didn\u2019t. She\u2019s not much happier than I am. Being stuck with her forever scares me. Leaving her scares me, too. She\u2019s a good person, but I don\u2019t always like spending time with her. The channels blink and fade without leaving an impression. My brain feels drenched in cooking oil. I think of Brent, single and happy, always glowing.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I settle on an old cowboy show. Some frontiersman sleds through a snowy tundra, and I remember our honeymoon. Alaska. Everyone told us to go somewhere warm, but we didn\u2019t listen. We wanted freezing seas and deep, dark woods. Whatever drove us there, I don\u2019t know. We were different people then. But, I loved the silence; the infinite quiet you only find up North. We would stand on sliding gravel and listen to nothing at all. Just mountains upon mountains of ice absorbing any sound that came too close. Brenda looks best against black lakes and gray skies, as if she belongs there. Her eyes are blue like chilled streams. Her hair is heart-of-the-mountain black, and her laughter was warm. It came from her gut and made you feel like an emperor.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The show cuts to a commercial and I wonder about lunch. It\u2019s not that she isn\u2019t pretty anymore. But, she\u2019s pale, and not ivory pale, but somewhat pasty, like someone who doesn\u2019t see the sun enough. Her hair, constantly clogging our bathroom drains. Globs of it come out black with watery scum. I think about them when her hair\u2019s in a mess. She makes odd gulping sounds when she\u2019s drinking water.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The day passes like a stomach ache. Eventually, a movie comes on, <\/span>Two Mules for Sister Sara. <\/span><\/i>When it begins, I think it\u2019s going to be the worst thing I\u2019ve ever seen. Halfway through the movie, I hear water running from the showerhead and I know Brenda\u2019s up. She gets ready and joins me on the couch.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAny good?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYeah, it\u2019s pretty good.\u201d We sit in silence as the movie continues, arms barely touching, until it\u2019s time to go.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Brent opens the door, smiling big and bright, and he\u2019s right to. He lives here, like a king. Wide windows overlook the skyline. A fifty-inch, 4k, I can only afford to look at, is mounted on the wall. Brenda looks at his granite countertops, real granite, too, not the painted wood our place has. There must be a lit candle somewhere. It all smells like Fall and pleasant dreams.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cTyler, Brenda,\u201d Brent says, resting his elbows on the countertop, \u201chow\u2019s that domestic bliss?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBlissful,\u201d I say. He smiles and nods. He has the kind of long, brown hair that sometimes looks good on men. I point it out. \u201cI told you it would look good long.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He grins. \u201cYeah, you talked me into it.\u201d His phone rings. He sighs as he stands up. \u201cThat\u2019s the girls. I\u2019m back already,\u201d he says, heading out the door.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Now, we\u2019re alone. \u201cYou know who the others are?\u201d Brenda asks.<\/span><\/p>\n I shake my head. I had the impression he just wanted to dine with us.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou all right?\u201d she asks.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m super.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n She looks like she doesn\u2019t believe me, then the door opens. In comes Brent with two women.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cTyler, Brenda, meet Catherine and Ellie, friends from work.\u201d They\u2019re our age and so good-looking it\u2019s shocking. We meet each other before we take our seats. Brent serves us chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and the wine we brought. Ellie turns to me. \u201cTyler, where do you work?\u201d She asks. She\u2019s shorter than Catherine and her name has fewer letters, which is how I remembered who was who.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cPlatte River state park.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, how\u2019s that?\u201d she asks. The rest of the table listens.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019ve got a great view,\u201d I say and Brenda chuckles. My \u201cview\u201d was of the parking lot, the hills and trees blocked by cars. The line usually elicits a few laughs, other than my wife, but here it sounds a bit sad.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIs the pay good?\u201d Catherine asks.<\/span><\/p>\n Brent speaks up, \u201cTyler\u2019s not in it for the money!\u201d He says, like he\u2019s proud. Or amused.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI like the outdoors, and I want to like where I work,\u201d which is what I said when I first took the job, but that was years ago. Brent nods, still wearing that polo. Catherine and Ellie are both in frilled, colorful sundresses, with silver necklaces and earrings. Brenda, though, is in leggings and a top she got on clearance, though I guess you couldn\u2019t tell. Nothing hangs from her ears. On the counter is a glistening juicer next to a wine fridge. I see a hand-blown glass lamp on a side table and go back to dissecting my chicken in silence while the others talk.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m a preschool teacher,\u201d Brenda says.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh god, that sounds horrible,\u201d Catherine says.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not that bad. It\u2019s where I get my best jokes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cTell us one!\u201d Brent says, sipping his merlot.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cTwo dogs are going down the road, then they see a cat. The cat explodes. One dog looks to the other and says \u2018must be Tuesday.\u2019\u201d The table is silent, our eyes dart to one another. Brenda waves a hand. \u201cYou had to have been there.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n When dinner ends, Brent suggests we move to the rooftop pool. If we don\u2019t have suits, he says we can rent some. We walk down the hall to the elevator and Brenda comes up to me while the others walk ahead of us.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHey, which one do you think he\u2019s trying to get with?\u201d she whispers.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe girls, he\u2019s got to be interested in one of them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I eye them and think Catherine is prettier, but Ellie has a nicer figure. Knowing Brent, I figure he\u2019d try for Ellie.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, who do you think?\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNeither\u2026 both… but if he likes one more than the other, there\u2019d only be one of them here, right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut, if it is both, he\u2019s trying to make a decision, which is stupid because women know, especially these two. They\u2019re smart.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d I say, quick and uninterested, but her stride doesn\u2019t break.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut it can\u2019t be neither. Look at them\u2014actually don\u2019t\u2014don\u2019t look at them.\u201d She raises a hand to cover my eyes, bumping up against me and causing us to stumble. The others look back and I nudge her away. I wait for her to say more but she doesn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n We step onto the deck from the elevator, warmed by the late Summer air. Half the pool is under the roof, the other half sits outside. Purple and green lights decorate every present surface and fill the night air with glow.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n After changing, we slip into the water and float. We make a circle and face each other. They all look adolescent in the dancing light, with their hair wet and sticking to their skin. I\u2019m sure I do, too. We aren\u2019t office workers or teachers at a dinner party anymore. We\u2019re swimming in a pool, like kids. On the ceiling, light reflecting from the water dances in jagged lines like broken pieces coming together. I inhale the chlorine, and the women splash each other. Brent just floats there, smug. He\u2019s made us young again.<\/span><\/p>\n Catherine and Brent swim away while Brenda, Ellie, and I drift towards the ledge. Brenda pulls herself up onto the cement, but I stay in the water. The lights of nearby towers twinkle like stars. The sound of tires on downtown streets rises up to us like a hymn, the city\u2019s constant exhale.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cSo, you aren\u2019t a fan?\u201d Ellie asks.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOf what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe city.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cRight. Maybe. It looks good from here.\u201d She folds her arms across her midsection, which is all underwater. In this light, her face I once thought rough now seems gentle. Her two piece is black, sleek, and accentuates her well. She reaches behind her to put her hair in a ponytail, and I feel my heart thump extra hard for a few beats as I see her bright, determined eyes between her slender arms.<\/span><\/p>\n I see Brent talking with Catherine, smile so wide I can barely see his eyes. \u201cThose two are getting along well,\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n She raises her eyebrows in a way that says I haven’t figured it out yet. I lift my feet off and float. We talk, and the sky behind us grows dark, and the pool lights feel brighter. I thought Brenda went to get a drink, but I turn around and she’s still sitting a little beyond the edge, looking out.<\/span><\/p>\n Ellie floats back to her friends, and I could talk to Brenda, but instead I watch the other three banter and laugh. I imagine being one of them, sharing whatever inside jokes they have, pining after one of them, knowing nights like these were just beginning. Something cold goes through me. This is what could have been. The lives I see them living are not so different from what mine once was. I suddenly feel haunted, like a man being visited by the spirit of his past. This ghost is young and has nothing new to say to me.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Brent climbs out of the pool and heads to the bar while Catherine and Ellie swim for the ladder on the other side. My eyes stay on Ellie. I watch as she grips the metal ladder and jolts up each step. She strides to the bar, and I notice the concise rhythm in which her body moves, the way her muscles squeeze underneath her skin. She comes to a stop, and the water drips from her. I blink. I blink again and look at Brenda, twisting away from me and the pool. She\u2019s hugging her knees and looking down at the floor.<\/span><\/p>\n I stop moving and can only think of one thing at a time. The I-beams running up the wall are off-color. The line of pool chairs is crooked. Brenda is sad and tired, like the girl at a party no one has spoken to. She may have been this way the whole night. I ask if she wants a drink. She says no and I don\u2019t want one either but get one anyway. Brent puts my drink on his tab and we sit at a high-top overlooking the pool and the women. Catherine and Ellie swim over to Brenda, who slips into the water to join them.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cSo,\u201d Brent says, \u201chow\u2019s the night going?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I finger my glass. \u201cGreat,\u201d I say, \u201cthanks for hosting.\u201d He smiles, soft joy on his face. Tonight will be a sweet memory for him, everything has gone right. I see Brenda talking to the girls with happy lips and sad eyes and I know it\u2019s time to go.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We all leave at the same time. I pull onto the street, and now it\u2019s just us. Brenda doesn\u2019t say a word, just looks out the window as we head home, dead silent as a thousand burning bulbs flash by us and fade in the rearview. We pass people our age clumping around bars, clubs, and dancehalls, hoping to get in and hookup with someone. We\u2019re on the interstate. Downtown glitters behind us, and Papillon glows in the south, but in between is the quiet dark of the slumbering suburbs where we belong.<\/span><\/p>\n Marriage is hard, but silence is easy. If nothing is in the air you can fill it with whatever you\u2019d like, remissions, exonerations, vindications. But it\u2019s cruel to be silent, and the person next to me is suffering. I\u2019ve seen those eyes wide and shining under the northern lights. Now, they\u2019re dropped and hung as her cheek sits in her hand. She suffers; the rest is redundant. I wonder where I\u2019m going. Not back to that hushed apartment.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Something must happen.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I drive past our exit. She looks at me but doesn\u2019t ask me where we\u2019re going. She rests easy back in her seat. I take the exit to Springfield, towards the park, and she must know by now where we\u2019re going. It\u2019s a decision of habit more than anything.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We grovel into the parking lot, dark and empty. The moon barely glows but the high powered lantern is still in the trunk.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat are we doing here?\u201d she asks. Her brows are creased like she\u2019s irritated, but she isn\u2019t frowning. I think she wants to know what happens next, but I have no real answer and can only shrug. \u201cI have an early morning tomorrow,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cMe too.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n We watch as the grass sways in the headlights. I think she\u2019s looking at a trailhead.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThey don\u2019t mind us being here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cProbably not.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n We leave the car. I grab the lantern. The path is crooked and genuine. Roots and rocks find their way under our stumbling feet and soon we\u2019re holding hands. Bugs orbit the lantern like tiny moons causing constant eclipses on the ground, shimmering like television static. A muddy puddle comes up on our right. I exaggerate a step and pretend to slip into it like a cartoon character. She tugs me upright and scolds me for scaring her, giggling a little. We hear rushing water somewhere far off filling the night like a crackling radio. The falls are short when we see them, maybe shoulder-height. Light from the lantern jumps in the water like zooming jewels, skipping on the rocks and tumbling down.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Brenda scans the edges of the clearing we\u2019ve come to. \u201cI\u2019m doing this. I\u2019m getting in,\u201d she says, taking off her shirt. I laugh, but she\u2019s serious. I take mine off, too. We fold and stack our clothes on a dry patch of grass, snickering whenever we see each other. She poses like Marilyn. \u201cEnjoying the show?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I feel the ground with my foot. \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo one else is going to come here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo one else.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I switch off the light and find her in the dark, then we find the ground.<\/span><\/p>\n We sit beneath the rocks and let the water run over us. My eyes have adjusted. There\u2019s more stars out than normal, but it\u2019s the sound of the water pirouetting and splattering onto our skin and the stones that enchants me. We keep shifting our weight, but the rocks are jagged and everywhere. I don\u2019t see Brenda, but I feel her beside me, someone who chose this moment with me, another believer.<\/span><\/p>\n The water falls unevenly, there\u2019s no anticipating it. It could tiptoe on our scalp or slap us in the face. Somewhere a bird makes a melody. I hear a coo from her lips. Our seats jab our bottoms, and I feel sand clumping in forbidden places. I draw close to her, a shard of granite poking my back. It\u2019s awkward and it hurts, but maybe that\u2019s all it ever is. I smell the earth and hear the water turning in the dark beyond. It flows from us into the Platte, then to the ocean, and it feels worth it, to be a part of it all.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The lantern my wife believes I\u2019ve returned is still sitting in my shotgun seat. 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