Stickle Island by Tim Orchard

Author:Tim Orchard
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944700546
Publisher: The Unnamed Press
Published: 2018-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

20

It was about eight A.M. when D.C. arrived at Julie’s the next morning. “I came to say sorry to Petal, maybe help her,” he said, and shrugged. “You know, get a proper plan together before the next meeting.”

Julie tilted her head and scowled. There was more than one reason she wasn’t happy to see her ex-husband so early in the morning, and she said, “The thing I’ve always liked about you, D.C., is you’re always yourself.”

D.C. puffed his chest out and grinned happily. “That’s what I try to be—”

But Julie cut him short with a look. She didn’t need to hear how it was basic existential philosophy, how it was important to be in the moment whenever possible. All she could see at that moment was the little-girl-lost look on Petal’s face as he’d left the meeting the previous night.

With an edge, Julie said, “Sometimes, in certain circumstances, I wish you could be someone else instead. Just for a few minutes, you know?” Julie always knew how and when she’d hurt D.C. If he loved you, it was easy, and now she could see the little movements of despair all across his features. She didn’t want to hurt him, but there it was. Love is a strange thing. She watched the air come slowly out of D.C.’s lungs as he deflated and flopped down onto the couch. She sat on the couch arm and rested a hand on his knee.

Despite their differences, the pair generally supported each other, even occasionally still falling in bed together. But that wasn’t now. Still with a chill, she said, “I know, I know, you don’t want to hear it, but sometimes less is more. Sometimes your strength, it’s like a weakness because it’s unnecessary. You made Petal look like a fool. What did that achieve? What good did it do?”

For once D.C. didn’t have a word to say. He knew she was right but it didn’t stop him from hurting. He felt a great need to be comforted. There wasn’t going to be any comfort. Hesitantly, he tried again: “I didn’t—”

With a curt shake of her head, Julie stood and moved over to the sink. “Don’t bother. I’ve known you for too long.”

There were a few bits of dirty crockery in the washing-up bowl. Julie ran water. A squirt of liquid. With a cup and dishcloth in her hands, she paused and looked out across the field, where the chimney of the Newmans’ farmhouse could be seen through the trees.

The floorboards creaked overhead and D.C. looked up. “Look, when she comes down I’ll say sorry. I’ll help her.”

With a sigh, Julie let her hands dangle in the water, looked down, and closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do.

People expect to see what they expect to see. D.C. expected to see Petal. But it wasn’t Petal coming down from above but John Newman. John Newman was a surprise. Something was wrong. D.C.’s brain demanded a moment, a hiatus, a timeout, as it tried to compute the bloody obvious.

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