The Mystery of Bluemeadow Drive
A rainstorm pours outside your window. You and your wife are in bed and
she rubs her long toes against your legs, pulling your shin hair. It
hurts, but it's been a long time since she's touched you, so you say
nothing and enjoy the sting. She tells you she has to pee and gets up
to go to the bathroom.
If you follow her to the bathroom, turn to page 2
If you open the drawer to the nightstand, turn to page 3
Your wife is crying in front of the mirror. When she sees you come in,
she pulls out a jar of face cream and attempts to busy herself, dabbing
her eyes. The distraction isn't working, so she tells you she doesn't
love you anymore.
If you pull down her underwear, turn to page 4
If you leave the bathroom, turn to page 7
Your wife's journal is paper-bag brown. You open to a random page. The
date is October 12th, 2012, a month ago. You read: We used to
have fun together. What happened to us?
If you grab a pen, turn to page 5
If you close the journal, turn to page 6
You pull down your wife's underwear and she takes your hands and moves
them over her breasts. You kiss her neck, use your teeth and shove her
against the wall. She moans.
If you have violent and passionate sex with your wife, turn to page 6
If you let go of your wife and leave the room, turn to page 8
You begin to write a response to her question. You begin: Remember when
that stupid pigeon pooped on your dress on our wedding
day? We laughed so hard. It's my favorite wedding photo, the green shit
spread all over your right boob. I miss your laugh. Your wife returns
from the bathroom.
If you get up and walk over to her, turn to page 4
If you lift up the covers, turn to page
You and your wife go back to bed. Rain plinks against the window. She
falls asleep first.
If you leave the bedroom and make a left, turn to page 7
If you leave the bedroom and make a right, turn to page 8
You walk outside into the rain. Your clothes are getting drenched. Your
neighbor's dog is barking at you from a window, her yap muffled and
ceaseless. You remember everything. You can't do this anymore.
You go into the kitchen for a late-night snack. You make a ham and
cheese sandwich. You forget about everything. Things will get better.
Marisela Navarro is currently in the MFA program at Emerson College. She's had stories in
Matchbook and Shelf Life.
Read her postcard.
Detail of photo on main page courtesy
of Bill Barber.
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