Gilchrist by Christian Galacar

Author:Christian Galacar [Galacar, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781975802028
Publisher: Christian Galacar
Published: 2017-10-16T22:00:00+00:00

It’s almost time for lunch. I think I’ll make a couple hot dogs.

And that was all. A few story notes—a disorganized brainstorm, really—then, presumably, some thoughts on lunch. Hot dogs. But Peter was left feeling as though his flesh had just been shucked and he was sitting in the open air, raw nerves exposed.

“What’s that?” Sylvia said, startling him.

Peter flinched, reeling around in the chair. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Jesus, Syl. I didn’t hear you come in.” He glanced back at the paper in his hand and put it facedown on the desk. “It’s just some notes for a story idea I had.”

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell her the truth.

“The way you were staring at it, you’d think you were reading your own obituary.” She sat down on the bed and looked through the junk in the knee drawer Peter had yet to put back in the desk. She didn’t really seem interested in it, though. It looked like a nervous distraction to disarm whatever it was that was hot on her mind.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. Just seeing how it’s going in here.” She had a curious, yet distracted, look on her face. “The story idea, is it something new you’re working on?”

“Something old, actually,” he lied. “Procrastinating, really.”

“Not cheating, I hope,” she said, smiling wryly at him.

“Huh?” He was taken aback for a moment, but then it hit him what she was referring to. “You remember that?”

It was something he had told her when they had first met. He had said how when he was working on a story, he had to stick with it until it was finished—a sort of literary monogamy. Only then would he turn his attention to other story ideas. To break this rule was akin to creative infidelity so far as he was concerned.

“Of course I remember.” Sylvia squinted at something on the floor. She bent down to pick up a paperclip at her feet, then dropped it in the drawer. She wasn’t wearing any shoes and had dry grass clippings on her toes. “What happened here?” she asked, gesturing to the drawer. “Looking for something?”

Peter turned sideways in the chair and draped his arm over the back, resting his chin on his shoulder. “The drawer jammed when I was looking for a pen. Don’t know my own strength, I guess. I tried to get it unstuck, and the whole thing came flying out.”

Sylvia laughed softly, then licked her lips. She slid back a little on the bed and tucked her hands under her thighs, letting her legs hang off the bed. She was staring at her swinging feet. It was a youthful, carefree look, one Peter hadn’t seen on his wife since their first years together, before any of the bad stuff had infected them.

“How’s the book? Good as the first time you read it?” Peter asked. “You looked peaceful out there by the water.”

“You checking on me?” She looked up, took her hands from beneath her legs, and pushed some hair behind her ears.

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