Oval by Elvia Wilk

Author:Elvia Wilk
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781593764340
Publisher: Soft Skull Press
Published: 2019-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

After rinsing and inspecting her blotchy patches, which had flattened into faint pink outlines but not stopped itching, she put Dam’s kimono back on and got into his bed. She stared at her phone in preparation and dialed Louis.

He was bright and loud when he answered. The room he was in sounded noisy. He asked about her rash in a concerned tone.

“I’ll be fine. Probably just some kind of allergy.”

“I feel so much better after getting out of the house. I’m sure you will too.”

“Good for you.” She knew she sounded sour. She wanted to sound sour. He was supposed to ask her to come stay with him. He was supposed to ask if she wanted to get a hotel room, a new apartment, to move forward or go back in time.

“What?” he said defensively. “Are you annoyed I’m staying here?”

“No. But we could stay somewhere together.”

“The pullout sofa here isn’t big enough for two people.”

“I know, you’ve said that.”

“Hey, come see for yourself. Come by here and look at the sofa, you can decide if you want to sleep on it with me.”

“We could go stay at the Best Western with everyone else.”

“Best Western?”

“Howard says everyone from the Berg was relocated. They want us to go there right away.”

He laughed. “The Best Western was the best they could do?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Sounds like a terrible idea. Have you ever been inside a Best Western? Your rash would probably get worse.”

“Hasn’t Howard called you like a hundred times today?”

“I’m not taking calls besides yours right now. We’re in full brainstorming mode over here. Innovation is going down, babe.”

She laughed, but then wondered if she hadn’t been supposed to laugh. Maybe he was serious? Innovation? Going down?

“Just come see me,” he said. “I miss you.”

It was a neon fishhook in the dark, which she bit down upon slowly, feeling it pierce the roof of her mouth.

“We’ll see us tomorrow,” she said, deliberately inserting the common German error into her English, something he’d once thought was funny.

The calamine lotion wasn’t working to dull the itch and her elbow was urgently prickling, inflamed and demanding scratching. After she ended the call, she recklessly hacked away at the skin with her bitten fingernails, wondering yet again whether she was the cause of this new and odd state of affairs between them, or whether he was the cause, or whether the relationship was an organism independent of either of their intentions that would always morph in ways useless to try to control.

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