Written and Edited By: Jason Korolenko
Though they had been married (common law, anyway) for well on ten years, Roger and Dora didn't speak much. In fact, she couldn't even really speak English; that was part of the reason why she'd appealed to him in the first place. Roger's extreme social phobias and anxieties relegated him to a hermetic life, barely making it by writing various web-based reviews, puff pieces mostly...
He'd never had a real relationship. He could count his friends on no hands. His mother and father were ghosts. They had abandoned him at a young age, left little Roger to toughen up on his own, learn to cope or be eaten alive by the world and all its harsh realities. His coping mechanism was isolation. Seclusion. These things he could control. Dora he could control....
He went to the kitchen and brought back two items: a powerful flashlight and a large knife. Facing the bedroom door, flashlight tucked under his armpit, Roger wiped a sweaty palm on his pant leg. Slowly grasping the knob, then drying his palm again, he held his breath and entered. Dora sat there, as she had been left, slouched on the edge of the bed. But her eyes had changed, or...
The next day found Roger at the local S-Mart picking up all the items he thought a pregnant woman might need. Pillows, blankets, baggy pajamas. Cold and warm compresses, cutesy soft slippers. Instant mashed potatoes and ketchup. He'd once read how women with child often crave weird combinations of food, and that was the weirdest he could come up with. Of course, Roger didn't...
He'd had a couple of drinks with his BLT, loosened his tongue up nicely. The awkwardness was still there, though Roger did his best to wear the mask of a socially apt human and Jennifer was talkative enough to keep the uncomfortable silences to a minimum. At the end of it all they'd agreed to meet again, Roger giving Jennifer his number because he knew as soon as the beers wore off...
Jennifer called the following day while Roger was in the shower. She left a message thanking him for lunch and saying she couldn't wait to do it again. Roger, toweling his hair dry, played the message back, at first guilty and secretive when he heard Jennifer's voice. He shot a glance toward the bedroom, made sure Dora was out of hearing range, then cursed himself. "She's a...
He was up, showered, and dressed within ten minutes, then out the door without a single thought spared for Dora and her spawn. A purple overcast sky did nothing to dampen his mood. In fact, the smell of rain on the wind reverse-aged him. Reminded Roger of childhood. He'd lost so many years to anti-socialism, now he was offered a second chance. A second chance with a real life, a...
In the end she agreed, much to Roger's relief, to stop by in the afternoon. She had some errands to run before, but maybe she'd bring over a bottle of wine and a cheese platter, a DVD - not one of those sappy romantic comedies she hated. It looked like rain, she said, and what better way to spend a rainy afternoon? Roger said it'd...
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