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Order this writing in the collection book Dark Matter available for only 1495 |
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Order this writing in the collection book Hope & Creation available for only 1495 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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Gator
Emily Ann Zietlow
Ted began to walk towards her, then stopped. I didn’t mean it like that, he said.
I’m sick of fighting, she said, without the tenderness he wanted. She was standing at the sink, staring into the backyard, sweat beads hovering above her eyes.
This isn’t working then, Ted replied. I have to go; the night manager called. Ted took his keys and let the screen door crash behind him.
She waited for his engine to start then fade away, its low rumble finally overwhelmed by the sounds of the summer night. The sun was setting somewhere over the canopy of green that surrounded their house.
Wanda bent over the sink, her brown mascara running in brooks and streams over her face. Hot tears dripped down the sink to run through the pipes and escape the house.
Fifteen years working on a Crystal River guideboat had left her skin rough and wrinkled. As a waitress now, she spent most of her tips on products to make her cheeks smooth and her eyes large and light, but none of it took away the creases in her forehead or the dark circles around her eyes. She wore tight dresses and jeans underneath the restaurant apron, hoping to make up for the rough look of the river that was etched into her skin. Wanda stopped crying and leaned her face in close to the faucet to wash off her makeup and feel the cool water on her hot, swollen face.
Wanda stepped outside. She stood for a while, turning to stare at the house, running her fingers over the splintered paint. All of the things that had needed fixing three years ago when they moved in were still broken. The screen door creaked and there was always a draft of wind that pushed through the bedroom window when the door opened. Faded blue geometric shapes decorated the wallpaper in the living room and every time Wanda walked in, she wanted to rip it all away, but neither of them ever took the time to strip it down. But the back porch was sturdy and overlooked a branch of the Crystal River that cut through the neighborhood. Water oaks and mangrove trees hung over the water and the grass was thick and tall with beautyberry shrubs coloring the landscape with bright fuchsia. There were trees on either side of a thin bank, shading their house from the summer sun. Everything was broken, but when you looked out the window at twilight, none of it mattered.
Wanda sat on one of the rockers Ted had bought for their first day in the house. There was still enough light to see the water, the pools near the shore motionless until floating masses of green algae edged in from upstream. She watched the lightening bugs begin to dot the night below.
Oh hell Ted, she said to herself. What are we going to do?
There was rustling in the brush that overhung the shore and movement in the water. Something splashed, making tiny waves on the bank. She took a drink of her beer, then stood and walked down the steps, stopping at the bottom to peer over the brush to the edge of the water ten feet away. Wanda squinted and stared, then began to turn back toward the house when she saw him.
He was beneath the brush in the shallow water, showing an overbite with white incisors that peeked out at the end of his long snout. The water was murky so she could not see how long he was, but his face peered out at her, almost smiling as if he was pleased to have surprised her. Wanda stared at him for about thirty seconds before the gator shifted slightly and Wanda yelled, oh shit! then ran up the stairs. She turned back when she reached the door and saw his outline frozen in the darkness of the pool while ripples of water moved out from his body to the banks of the creek.
And then for a few minutes there was nothing. She stood on the porch overlooking the pool, and he stayed in the water, almost resting, almost ready to glide past the house, downstream, away from the houses and into the branches and corners of the river where there are no voices or footsteps to startle. She watched him, remembering a second-grade school trip to the zoo where the heat was so intense that the animals stood completely still. Wanda had gripped the rail, stood on the second pole of the fence to get a better view and bit her lip, watching for the flick of a tail or the lift of a lion’s paw, searching for any movement at all. But nothing happened and eventually, Wanda relinquished her grasp on the rail and obeyed the tug at her arm that led her away from the frozen elephants and lions she had been waiting to see for months.
Now she didn’t want the gator to move; she wanted to stay silent with him in the fading light forever. After a while, he shifted again and gave a low bellow that seemed to have traveled from far inside his body. This broke the silence, and Wanda’s mouth dropped open.
My God, she said out loud, then walked into the kitchen and picked up her phone.
It rang the full six rings. She tried again. No answer. A voice recording.
Dammit Ted, she said into the phone. I know you’re not at the bar yet, you just left and you could at least pick up your phone especially ‘cause I’m calling to tell you about the goddamn gator in our backyard. Go ahead though, and get your leg bit off at two in the goddamn morning when you come home piss-drunk.
Wanda hung up the phone and went to bed, waking every half hour thinking that she heard the gator shifting in the inky, stagnant water. She would look out the window to find the his long body, resting in the shadows and watching the house.
Ted came in through the front door at one instead of two and closed it loudly. He had heard her message halfway to the bar on the 98, surrounded by the tall green walls of forest on either side. He had thought about her standing on the porch, watching the gator and knew that she had fantasized at least once about the gator biting him good in the leg before she called to warn him. Ted had laughed at this thought, but then imagined her at the sink, trying to turn away from him to hide the tears, and this stayed with him the whole night so he had to wave off the night manager who liked to to stay and drink after they closed, and come home to her instead.
She was turned on her side away from him and Ted stood at the doorway, watching the curve of her body through the thin sheets. He settled his gaze on the glow of her skin in the moonlight, her shoulders and the nape of her neck shaded blue in the night.
Wanda lay still with her eyes closed, but as he moved toward the closet and took off his boots, she watched him undress. Most nights he would come home at near-dawn and undress slowly, the way you move when you haven’t slept all night and the sun is brimming on the horizon. She would watch him while he froze, naked to stare at the sunrise, and the scars from his childhood would rise from deep underneath his skin to populate the area between his shoulder blades. Most nights, when he finally moved beside her, Wanda would pull close to feel the rhythm of his breath while he slept.
Ted pulled back the sheet. Jesus Wanda, he said. Move your leg. You’re already takin’ over the bed.
Wanda lifted her head, Well, you’ve been preferring the couch lately.
Not preferring, Wanda. Banished, he said.
She moved closer to her side near the window.
Well, I still have both legs dear and I’m not piss-drunk, he said.
Do you want a medal?
No I don’t. Ted paused. What do you want from me?
You could have called to see if I was dead or not.
Ted laughed. Dead? Honey, I half expected to be eating gator for the next week when I heard your message. Ted looked over to find Wanda’s smile in the darkness.
Did you call anyone about it?
No. They would have shot him, Wanda said.
What if it eats something?
I almost threw him one of those damn dogs next door.
They settled into the sounds of the early morning. They were quiet for a while before Ted put his hand on Wanda’s waist and said,
I’m glad you called. Thank you.
Wanda was looking out the open window, the moon a ghostly gold through the screen.
Are you gonna leave me? She asked.
Ted rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling, the moonlight from outside pushing shadows into the corners of the room.
No. This is our place to live. Are you gonna leave?
Wanda shook her head, and Ted put his arm around her, bringing his head close enough to smell shampoo in her hair.
An hour later when Ted was asleep, Wanda continued staring out into the night, watching the trees outside the window, intertwined as they grew over the creek. At one point Wanda sat up, Ted’s arm sliding from her shoulders to her waist, and she looked out to the water. Suddenly, it was the same as before and everything was still; the branches stopped stirring and the water turned glassy while she paused with the gator in the lull and waited. And then, just like before, Wanda heard the gator’s low bellow break through the static, and the water moved and branches snapped along the riverbank and she knew that he had gone. She fell back on the bed into dreams slightly scored by the muffled sounds of their house and small splashes in the water further downstream.
