Saturday, December 13, 2008

Into Advertising

(This is an excerpt. For the full story, contact Total Cardboard, or write to me.)

The Mild Nausea of Loving Another

…Neither of us knew how to make a fire. Tom disappeared for ten minutes, coming back with a blanket & a couple of bar heaters.

‘Is there anything else I should know?’ I said, rubbing my feet along the carpet.
‘This isn’t my house,’ he said.
‘Whose is it?’
‘My ex-wife’s. Julie. She goes to the same conference every year around this time, in Canberra. With other women. Her friends.’

In my dream I was captain of a small tugboat that had run aground in a suburban backyard. The boat was rudderless, wedged between a makeshift pentagram of rusted car bodies. I stayed on deck while the crew ran around frantically, trying to pull us back out to sea. From the deck, I looked out at the back wall of the house. I saw smoke, & could smell, faintly, new wood burning. The lights in the house got brighter, then brighter still, until they came in through the window, where I was opening my eyes to the feet of Tom & Julie, standing, facing one another.

I pretended I was asleep. Julie said she would call the police, but Tom, his voice quiet & calm, said there was no reason to, because he was only picking me up, only carrying me to his car.
 
 

Originally published in Total Cardboard 8.

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