Cold Feet

            “Why are your feet always so goddamn cold?”

“Fuck off anyways,” I say. I shift so that my feet are far from his. We fall asleep back-to-back, making sure not to touch.

The next morning his hand is down my pajama pants, bright and early. That’s what woke me up; he thrust it there like he does sometimes. I don’t turn around to face him, he doesn’t try to kiss any part of me. After sex I roll over, grab my smokes and fumble for my lighter in the drawer. I don’t turn towards him until I’ve had a few good drags.

Later on we go to Mel’s for some Eggs Benny. The fat waitress keeps coming back to refill our dirty mugs – we’re drinking like a couple of camels. The jukebox thing is stuck on “It Had to be You” and he gets up to change it. It doesn’t switch so he kicks it.

            “Nice day,” the fat waitress says. Her make-up looks like she put it on about a week ago. Greenish crusties in the corners of her eyes. I wonder if she’s ever looked in a mirror before going out in public. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t bother with that either, if I were her.

            “Nice enough day,” I say.

            “Yup, she nods, “warm anyways.” I then notice the sweat beads on her hairy upper lip. I look away.

            “I think I’ve had enough coffee,” I say. He sits back down.

            “You bet you have,” he says.

Patty Fatty leaves us alone and I look at him. He’s shoveling greasy bits of ham into his face. Red oozes down his chin – grease mixed with ketchup. I have come two thousand miles for this. Been married five years. Sometimes I think that he is the most disgusting man I have ever met.

            After sitting next to each other on the couch that night – eating some fish and chips for a couple hours, I get up to go to the can. Enough quality time. The walk down the hall is an excursion. It’s when I’m sitting on the toilet seat that I remember my period is late. About two weeks.

            “Arnold,” I say when I’m back in the living room, “I have something to say now, something to tell you.”

            “In a minute Sally, this is a good one,” he says. I look and what he means is the commercial on T.V. I sit in the chair next to the couch. Another commercial comes on, a mother and a baby and lots of clean white sheets.

            “Cute kid,” I say.

            “Arrgah,” he says. I take a peak out of the living room window. The stars are out and it feels like I haven’t seen them for years.

            “Hey, what about a walk.” I can’t remember the last time we went on a walk together.

            “I’m tired. I dunno. Maybe another time, a walk.”

            “Arnold, have you um, ever wondered, you know, um, have you ever thought about…”

He turns his head, for the first time all night, in my direction. 

            “Never mind,” I say. I saw what his eyes looked like just then.

            “What?” A challenge; “ever wondered what?”

            “Oh. Nothing. I forget what I was gonna say. Hmm. Funny,” I say. He exhales, loud.

            “Well. Maybe you’re gettin’ old. You’re lookin’ older. Ha ha. The old goat’s gettin’ rusty in the head…” I think he keeps talking but I can’t be sure.

            “Shut-up,” I say, just in case. I get up out of the armchair. My legs feel like cement and I’m tired. I put my hand on my stomach, then I feel my breasts. Everything is heavy. I go to the kitchen and I pour us both some gin, no tonic, no water. We both like to taste our drinks. I take a sip and feel the burn going down. I hand him his and I go outside with a pack of smokes and my glass. When I’m sitting on the front stoop I blow smoke rings and watch them as they dissolve against the backdrop of the night sky, the stars. In the distance I can hear the train’s whistle as it passes through town. I close my eyes and I can see myself a few years earlier, looking out the window, towards a new life. I want to warn my younger self. But I see the excitement on her face and I know that if I could, I wouldn’t. I listen to the train’s rhythm until it dies. Then I sit there and wonder who’s on it, and where they might be going.