I walked across the barren parking lot to Tops. Overhead the sky darkened to a heavy blue. I was running late, and my knees hurt. I was tired. Ben had nightmares in the middle of the night, and Shelly let him sleep in our bed.
The automatic door swung open. I squinted under the fluorescent light that cast an artificial light over the fruit and vegetables. I freed a cart from the rack and started my search.
My phone vibrated. Text from Shelly:
Don’t forget the salsa. Mild.
I rolled my eyes. I had the full list. Everything we’d need. I knew the salsa was critical. Shelly would be upset if I didn’t remember it.
I began my hunt, perusing aisles and adding items. I avoided eye contact with others, just focused on the job at hand. I was late. If we didn’t feed Ben by the cutoff, he’d stay up late, which would throw him off for the week. I knew he’d likely knock on our door in the middle of the night in any case.
“Hey, Tom?” I heard in the dairy aisle.
I turned around to see Ben’s beloved kindergarten teacher, Denise. She was petite and young, and her pale face sported even more freckles than usual.
“Wow, out in the wild,” she said. “I almost never run into parents.” She had a row of small studs in each ear. I’d seen those before, though I had never seen her dainty nose ring. I guess she covered them up at the school. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the protrusion of a navel stud from under her tank top.
“Yeah, they let me out every now and again on good behavior.”
She laughed and I relaxed. A moment passed. Then she looked over my cart.
“Ahh, taco night. I highly recommend the Kraft mixed cheese.” She leaned in and softly added, “Great for the munchies too.”
She smelled like lavender and smoke. I took a closer look. Her eyes were relaxed, her pupils were outsized, and her words lingered. In the classroom, the few times I’d seen her, she wore long patterned dresses, or light sweaters over slacks. Now, her tight tank top and Daisy Duke jean shorts revealed much more.
I smiled. It’d been years since I’d smoked a joint, probably not since I was about Denise’s age. I used to smoke, before Shelly and I had a kid, which, of course, changed everything. Ben’s arrival meant coordinating calendars, broken sleep, summer colds and never-ending grocery lists. But it was more than that. Shelly was determined to raise a well-adjusted, successful child. She seemed more focused on Ben than on me.
“I bet. I used to go for chicken taquitos in my day. The ultimate munchie food.”
“Ha,” she said, slapping my shoulder. “You say it like your day is past, Mr. Forrester.”
She addressed me with an upturned eyebrow, a challenge, almost like I was one of her kindergarteners refusing his nap.
“Do you have the munchies now, by chance?” I dared to ask.
“Yeah,” she said, searching my face. “I smoked some before coming here. Probably a mistake—I came in for granola and coffee and am leaving with the whole store.”
I looked at the cart she left halfway down the aisle. There was barely anything in it. I thought of Shelly’s list, the breakdown of items by day of the week. By the time I got to next Sunday, my cart would be overflowing.
“I think you’ve kept it within reason,” I said.
“Well, I appreciate your letting me off the hook. Hey, now that you’ve found me out, want to join for a smoke? I’ve got a joint with your name on it, and I hate smoking alone.”
“I’m already behind schedule, I’m afraid”—I made a point to sigh—“though I’d really love to. I still have to finish grabbing food for the week ahead. Ben’s a hungry kid.”
“Don’t I know it. That’s okay, I’ll wait for you. There’s Lily’s Pond just half mile down the road. It’ll be a quick smoke and that’s all. A little Sunday treat.” Her eyes and piercings refracted the bright overhead lights.
I remembered when Shelly and I used to smoke. We’d go out to restaurants, go to movies and plays, to the bar with friends, then come home at 3 AM and curl up under heavy blankets, then kick them off and make love. I missed those days. The only movies we’d seen together since Ben arrived were animated.
“Sure, why the hell not. As long as you promise never to mention it on parent-teacher night.”
She moved a step closer, lavender enveloping us. “I think I’d have even more to lose than you would if I did.”
I said nothing as she pushed her cart to the checkout line. She glanced over her shoulder. I continued shopping, rushing from aisle to aisle, working my way down the list. I improvised a little. I bought hot salsa in addition to the mild. I got the queso. I even added green chili, which Denise had insisted would blow my mind.
I loaded the car and drove to Lily’s Pond. No other cars were there except hers. I followed the wood-chipped path to the weathered, round gazebo with a slated, arched roof, situated right on the edge of the pond. The sounds of frogs and grasshoppers rose as I walked the path to where she was waiting. The path narrowed as I got closer to the gazebo.
Denise took the joint out of her pocket, withdrew a lighter from the other.
“Give me some cover, will you?”
I moved close, cupped my hands around hers. She flicked her lighter and pulled. She took a few more, held it in, turned away and stared off toward the pond and the setting sun while I looked at her the way I used to look at girls in high school. After a few minutes, she turned around and held out the joint.
I took it, feeling the moisture from where her lips had been. I inhaled, staring at her, then coughed as if I’d never smoked before, and almost dropped it. She laughed, put a hand on my back and the other on my shoulder.
“A bit rusty I see.”
I smiled at her as I wheezed, nodded, and handed back the joint. My eyes were tearing and I suddenly felt underwater.
My ears began to fill with a low murmur. I’d had tinnitus a couple years back, but it went away. The ringing sound scared me. Then I realized the noise was coming from the pond.
She put the joint to my lips and again I pulled. I noticed the lily pads extending in all directions on the pond’s surface. I exhaled, laughing.
“What’s funny?” Denise pulled on the joint and looked at me with coy reserve.
“Oh, nothing. Just the pond. The silly name.”
“That is funny. Ha.”
She moved closer, put the lit end of the joint in her mouth. I knew what this was. I let my lips encircle the joint end as our eyes met and our lips touched, just barely. I felt the hot smoke rush in as she blew. It filled my lungs and I felt heavy. For a second, the graze of her lips caused me to grow light and warm, then I keeled over coughing and gasping for air.
“No … more,” I managed between wheezes. “I think … I’m done.”
She giggled. “I agree.”
Croaking from the pond grew louder. Keeled over, I made eye contact with a big frog that faced me straight on. It sat up proudly on a lily pad. I couldn’t penetrate his eyes. He seemed to be asking me why I was there.
Why was I there? My head spun and I thought about tacos. I could go for one, or a glass of water.
The sun had finally set, and there she stood in the gathering darkness. But some part of her stayed light, alive. She was possibility. A thrill, something I’d lost forever.
“You’re really pretty,” I blurted out, instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you get that a lot.”
Denise pulled long and slow on the dwindling joint.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Forrester. It’s true, you aren’t the first dad to tell me. Usually it grosses me out, but you’ve got a gray fox thing going on.”
I felt my face flush, though it already felt hot from the weed. I moved toward her.
“I think I’ll have one more pull after all. How about another shottie?”
“Sure.”
Denise again put the lit end in her mouth. I moved in, making a point to press my lips against hers. Our eyes met, but I couldn’t read her. I think she felt what I felt. I pulled in, hard. I let the smoke fill my lungs. I wanted to stay there, I wanted to stay there forever, but again I keeled over coughing.
“Well, this is done,” she said looking at the joint between her fingers, and then she flicked the nub into the pond, and the smoke, and somehow the lavender too, was gone. She took a step back and stretched her hands over her head. “This has been fun.”
“Leaving already? Feels like we’re just getting started.”
I stepped toward her. She took a step back.
“Just getting started? What are you talking about?”
“You and me. I mean, you’re beautiful; you know I think so.” I said, attempting a smile.
She looked through me. “I’ve got to go.”
“No, don’t go yet. I haven’t felt this way in some time.”
“This is getting weird,” she said.
“Look, it’s been a while. I mean, being out with someone like you. I’d love to kiss you.” I touched her shoulder gently.
“No.” She used her hand to remove mine, as though she was pushing away a demanding kindergartener.
“But you said I was a gray fox?”
She grimaced. “Wow, way to run away with a compliment.”
I felt myself turn crimson.
“And now I’ve really got to go. You lose gray fox status when you act like a child.”
She turned on her heels and headed for her car.
“Denise, please! I’m sorry! I’m stoned!”
“Say hi to Shelly for me,” she said without turning around.
She got in her car and drove away, tires kicking up dust.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked at the message, noting two missed calls from home.
Where are you? Ben is hungry.
I sat on the gazebo bench for a minute and looked out at the water. What the fuck was wrong with me? It was getting late.
The frog was still on the lily pad. It stared at me wide-eyed, shocked. Its throat bulged as it croaked.
I wiped my eyes and made my way to the car. The dancing colors and heavy air were suffocating.
At home, I walked in, grocery bags loaded in each hand.
Shelly popped up from the couch, where she had been reading to Ben. She made her way toward me.
“There you are. I was starting to get worried.”
“Sorry, I got a little distracted. I’m okay though. I got everything on the list and then some.”
When she was close, her eyes narrowed as she looked me over. She leaned in and sniffed my neck.
“Are you serious? Really?”
I gave a half-baked smile. “I’m a little high.”
“Where did you get the weed?”
I didn’t know what to say. I just knew I couldn’t say Denise. “A guy named Dennis I know from the office. I ran into him at the grocery store. He was already high and offered me some.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Well, did you bring some home?”
I looked at her. “I’m sorry, honey. It didn’t occur to me. Next time I’ll ask.”
Shelly looked me over. “Okay then. Now go sit with Ben. Clearly he’s not the only one who needs tacos.”
I made my way to the couch.
“Daddy!” Ben exclaimed, looking up from his picture book. He was reading Frog and Toad, A book I’d loved when I was his age.
“Hey, buddy.” I rustled his hair, and then picked him up. “You’re getting big.” He felt heavier; time was moving on.
Ben laughed and so did I.
I heard Shelly in the kitchen, the sound of water, a car horn, the creak and hum and settling of this whole crazy life.
*****
Nick Godec writes poetry and short fiction, with works appearing in a variety of journals, including Sierra Nevada Review, El Portal, Grey Sparrow, and MORIA Literary Magazine. He has a B.A. in history and an MBA from Columbia University and works in finance in New York City. Nick enjoys spending time with his wife, Julia, and their miniature pinscher, Emma.
