Not the Apocalypse I Was Hoping For by Leslie Greentree

Author:Leslie Greentree
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
ISBN: 9781773853710
Publisher: University of Calgary Press
Published: 2022-05-12T18:01:06+00:00

Children in the walls

I was too aware of the faint squelching sound my shoes were making to notice that the husband and wife were hissing at each other in the pantry; Tony jerked his head toward the etched glass doors to alert me. It had rained earlier, and I hadn’t been able to avoid the puddles collected in the driveway as I carried tub after tub of food, glassware, and utensils from the van into the house. Now, the husband kicked the door shut on their argument. I lowered my eyes even as his slid over me, unseeing.

It was the sort of house you saw on television, not a regular house where people take their shoes off. I willed away all thought of shoe noises and counted on the cloak of invisibility that had surrounded me for most of my life. Tony slid trays of beef tenderloin into a stacked double oven while I set up the bar.

The kitchen was larger than my apartment, bright and modern, in contrast to my first impression of the house. As we had driven up the winding driveway, heavy-bottomed clouds were gathering, pushing away the pale blue that had edged in after the morning’s steady drizzle. The house loomed alone at the top of a hill, the treetops fingering the sills of its second-story windows. Its grey stone façade blended into the blackening sky behind it, and the lights that glowed from every window seemed to beckon warmth and refuge.

The husband’s smile and handshake were big when he first greeted us, everything about him slightly oversized as he directed us around the kitchen. He wasn’t smiling now, as he and his wife emerged from the pantry. He looked like a rich man — large and confident in a deep purple button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. My thin goatee felt wispy and insubstantial, and I wondered about shaving it the next morning.

The wife was too thin, in high heels and a little black dress that exposed most of her back. Her hair was straight, deep chocolate brown, almost to her waist. She flashed Tony a bright social face; her husband’s impatience smoothed out as he viewed our array of glassware, utensils, and food.

“Do you boys need anything?” He directed his question to Tony, who flicked his eyes sideways but otherwise kept himself from bristling at being lumped in with the likes of me: a gangly student with bad facial hair. He assured the husband all was on schedule. Our host nodded and walked away.

The wife peered into the tubs of food and exclaimed over the menu. She shook her head in ways that didn’t match her words, but set her hair stroking and gliding over the bare skin of her shoulders and back. I kept my eyes down as I unpacked. Tony had warned me early on to keep my eyes away from the women we served. He didn’t follow his own advice, but I didn’t argue. I had enough difficulty talking to Lindsay, the girl I’d been trying to get close to all semester.

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