LOOKING FOR THE MOON

This story contains references to alcohol, sex and violence.

LOOKING FOR THE MOON

    The sky was midnight black even though it was just past eight. She sat staring blankly toward where the moon should be. Her hands wrapped firmly around her second beer. It was hot as usual. No wind stirred. The black sky hinted of rain, but it was only a hint. Despite the heat, she felt cold. 

   She was dressed in her usual cutoff jeans and t-shirt. Her faded blond hair was just below her chin, combed but not styled. No hint of makeup graced her face. No smile parted her lips. She took a swig of beer and noted that it was almost empty.

   She didn’t look away from the sky when the back door opened. “What are you looking at he asked,” in his slightly condescending tone. 

   She waited a long agonizing minute before she calmly replied. “I’m looking for the moon,” she said and waited patiently for his reply. It did not take long.

    “I don’t think you’re going to see the moon tonight,” he countered with his normal bored tone. “I’m going to get a beer do you want another one?”

     In answer she drained her beer and handed him the empty bottle. He took it from her and retreated. She continued to seek the moon. In a few minutes he was back with two beers. 

     She took it without looking away from the sky.

     “The neighbors are going to think you are crazy if you keep looking at the sky.”

    “Which neighbors?” she asked. “None of them are out.”

    “Somebody might be driving by.”

    “They won’t be able to see me through the trees,” she reminded him. 

    “I don’t care! I don’t want the neighbors thinking I have a crazy wife.” She did not need to look at him to see the scroll on his face. She knew it well.

    “It’s none of their business,” she replied. “I can search for the moon if I want to.

For all “they” know I’m looking for Jesus and the second coming.”

    The scroll would now have changed to full blown anger. His eyes would have narrowed, and his chin would be sticking out, as if his face alone would convey his superiority.

    “You don’t need to bring God into this!” He all but shouted. His fist pounded on the table almost spilling her beer.

    She grabbed it and took a long drink. He picked up his empty bottle and disappeared into the house.

    In a few minutes he was back with his second beer. She continued to look at the sky. 

    “I’m sorry about pounding the table.” he whined. “You can really be impossible at times. Are you going to look at me?”

    She lowered her eyes and met his. The scroll had softened, but the blue eyes remained hard and unyielding. She had once loved the sky-blue softness of his eyes. She could not remember when the eyes had gone from sky-blue to steel.

    She looked back toward the moon that was not there. She missed the softness. The moon would return the hardness would remain. She took another drink.

    “I’ll get you another one,” he said. She watched him retreat into the house. She took a deep breath and let the loneliness surround her. It was an all too familiar feeling.

    He handed her the beer and flashed his most forgiving smile. It was his usual MO.  If force didn’t work, then he would try charm. Sometimes she pushed away her feelings and let the charm seduce her. The more beer she had the more likely this was to happen. After all she did like sex. 

    Before she committed to him, she had had a very active and fun sex life. Marrying him was a step down. His sex drive was very low, and he was a one trick pony. She sometimes missed the all-night sessions with former lovers. 

    She realized almost immediately that his ego was far too fragile for anything but a very convincing fake proof of satisfaction. She became a pro at it. It was easy enough to finish the job while he cleaned himself up in the bathroom. She suspected that his preference would have been for rough sex. On the nights he flipped her over and pulled at her hair she lay very still and did not give him her award-winning performance of satisfaction. Thankfully those nights did not happen often. 

    Still, she remained faithful to her vows, if you didn’t count remembering former lovers on her solo flights. 

    Tonight, she looked back toward the moon.

    “Why are you looking for the moon,” he asked, “You know it’s not going to come out tonight don’t you sweetie?” His tone was meant to be persuasive, but underneath she heard his perpetual contempt for her. She knew he really wanted to say, “Why are you engaged in such a useless endeavor. Stupid bitch!”

    Her head was bussing a little from the beer. It dulled the pain and lowered her defenses. She gave him a rare smile. “How’s your beer?” she asked. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll bring you one.”

    “I’m about out,” he replied.

    She disappeared into the house. After going to the bathroom, she went into their bedroom and removed something from the dresser drawer. She then continued to the kitchen and got the promised beer. She did not get another one for herself. 

    She placed the beer in front of him and took the seat directly across from him, instead of sitting in the one to his left. The new spot would give her a better look at the moon should it appear. 

    “You worry too much about what other people think,” she scolded.

    The scroll she was expecting returned to his face. It turned to surprise when he saw the gun in her hand. Before he could react, she pulled the trigger. The scroll was permanently gone from his face as he fell forward. Blood and flesh flew at her, as his head hit the table in front of him. 

    No neighbors appeared. No one on the road stopped to see what had happened.

    “See” she said to the back of his head. “They” don’t care, and they probably won’t even think I’m crazy.”

    As she picked up the phone and dialed 911 a small sliver of light cut through the dark sky just where the moon would soon appear.