The Book

The lone lightbulb swayed incessantly from the ceiling even though there was no breeze: the only window had been painted shut and wouldn’t open with the most stubborn of tugs. Rain streaked the dirty panes of glass, cast down from a morning sky full of dingy clouds. Stacks of cardboard boxes occupied space beneath the window, beside a serviceable twin bed, and a microwave and small coffee maker sat on a worn-out horizontal dresser -- but that wasn’t enough padding to keep Ethan’s voice from echoing off the bare walls of the small, square room.

“Yes, Amanda,” he said softly into the cell phone, “the check is in the mail. I’m sorry it’s late; things have been a little...” Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, “tight.” He rose from the corner of the mattress and reached over to pour himself a cup of coffee from the stained carafe. He sipped the lukewarm liquid, then returned to his perch. “No, no, the job’s just fine, I just had to ‘rob Peter to pay Paul’ last month to cover a bill. . . No, no, it’s perfectly okay; glad I could help. . . No, I haven’t seen it. . . I’ll keep an out for it. I still have a box or two to unpack.” He shifted his eyes towards the mound of a dozen or so boxes stacked against the wall. A sigh escaped his dry, pale lips. “Sure, I can take a look now.” Ethan lifted his lanky body off of the bed again, the rusted metal frame creaking from the shifting load. He gathered a cardboard container into his arms and heaved it onto the bed, peeling back a length of clear packing tape from across the top, and pulling back the flap.

“Hmmm, nothing but paperwork in this one. . .” He lifted a pile of folders and large manila envelopes, shifting them between his hands. “Mm hmm: tax files, life insurance policies, birth certificates, hunting license.” His eyes flickered briefly. “Marriage certificate. . . Yeah, I’ll get it all sorted. . . I can bring it to the hearing. . .” Ethan gently tossed the paperwork onto the stack, the non-existent wind floating open the folder’s cover, then he lugged another box over to the bed. He balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder while pulling apart and inspecting handfuls of fabric extracted from the latest container.

“Hon... Amanda,” he stammered, “I think this box is your sister’s. This all looks too small to be yours. . .. Now wait, I didn’t mean it like that. . . I was going to. . . See, there you go again!” Ethan slammed his fist into the cardboard. “WOULD YOU JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE TO TALK?!” Ethan’s roar ricocheted off the walls, leaving a ringing in the air. He began drawing slow, deep breaths in and out through his nose, his chest heaving. Steadying his voice, he continued into the phone, though through clenched teeth.

“Look, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have yelled. . .. Yes, I’ve been going to thera …. .. Why do you even care?!” He flung his arms in the air in exasperation, the tweenager-sized shirt in his hand smacking into the dangling lightbulb, sending it flying above his head. The careening orb cast angry waves of light and shadows over the room, then swung to a near-stop as Ethan listened into the cellphone. Finally, his shoulders slumped.

“Yes, of course. . ..” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, too. . .” He opened a third box as rain continued to beat down beyond the grimy window. “Ahhh, here it is! Remember when we got this for you?” He sounded wistful as he rubbed the woolen collar between two fingers. He sank down, slowly, onto the edge of the mattress. “Remember? We were walking downtown and you got cold. . . Oh, Amanda, what happened to us? Six years.” A tear suddenly appeared on his eyelid and cascaded down his cheek as he pulled the charcoal-gray bundle into his chest. “It’s all over on Thursday.” Ethan buried his face into the thick fabric, then recoiled suddenly.

“Hold on; something poked me.” He set the phone atop the top page of the life insurance documents and spread the coat over his lap, searching through crevices and folds with both of his thin hands. “Ahhh, here it is! It’s a little black book.” Ethan perched the phone between his shoulder and ear again and flipped through the small, leather-bound tome. “It’s a calendar. . .. Mm hmm, from last year. . .. Awww, look, a heart around our anniversary! . . .. Uh huh… uh huh. . ..” A smile spread slowly across his lips. “…and we went swimming at midnight!” A fit of giggles erupted from Ethan and pealed along the bare walls like tiny bells, making the dull space seem brighter.

“Hang on; what’s this here…? Why is Mark’s name written on April twenty-second. . .? Yeah, it’s right here . . .. ‘Mark; seven-thirty’.” A confused look crossed his worn face. “I thought you didn’t meet Mark until after we. . .. Now, don’t give me that! I know what I’m looking at!” Ethan’s face began to color red as his voice rose. “’April twenty-second’? That’s the weekend I went to Chicago for the business!” He was now standing on his feet, one hand clenching the tiny cellphone, the other gripping a mass of clothing from the bed. Both sets of knuckles were white as bone.

“YOU’VE BEEN CHEATING ON ME THIS ENTIRE TIME?!” The bellow from deep in Ethan’s chest was deafening. “I’ve been going without all this time to make sure you are. . .. I don’t want to hear it! You made me think it was my fault! You made everyone think it was my fault! Oh, man, your parents hate me! Wait until they find out you were playing me for a fool all this time! . . . Don’t you dare start crying! You don’t get to be the one who’s felt sorry for! Not this time! . . ..” Ethan tried to pace, but the tiny room wouldn’t allow it, so he stood motionless beside the bed, every muscle in his body rigid and tense.

“No! . . . No, Amanda, I don’t care. . . Amanda, what are you doing?” The fury in Ethan’s voice took on a note of alarm. “Amanda, don’t. . . No, I swear. . . Please don’t . . . Amanda, I’m sorry. . . put it down. . . please don’t. . . PLEASE!” Ethan’s head recoiled violently away from the earpiece; the phone slipped from his hand and landed on the life insurance policy, beside a line item that read "Beneficiary in case of death: Ethan Roberts. Amount: $350,000."