Their New Couch

Chrysa Gray 

My name is Chrysanthemum, a name I found accursed in my childhood. I’m called Chrys by my friends, I’m called Chrysa by my husband. He said the day we were engaged that the longer my name was the harder it would be to forget when he grew too old to remember where he’d left his toothbrush. His logic, though faulty, had stood the test of time. My name is Chrysanthemum, I think, the orchid coated couch seeming so contradictory.

Flenn Grey

My name is Flenches, no, in all the years I’ve said it, never has it rolled off the tongue. I was told that in another time people would say the weather had flenched when the sky began to look as if it’s clearing up just for it to have been a deceitful sight. On the day I married Chrysa, she called me Flenn. She told me Lenny was misleading, that I just wasn’t a Lenny. The cottage door swings open with a flourish, the willow trees on either side ushering me in with their tall spiny limbs. The moment I spot Chrysa, I feel the mocking stares of the darned willows. 

Chrsya Grey 

Flenn doesn’t say anything for a second, his back to the fervent winds the screen door is defending him from. He raises one of his worn thick brows in question, a familiar expression, referring to the new addition in furniture. The piece coating our fuzzy woolen rug almost completely. 

“So Chrysa, you thought the two of us needed more options concerning our seating arrangement?” Flenn finished the remark off with a grin, which like a puzzle piece, clicked into place around the wrinkled lines that pronounced his facial expressions. He must be confused right now, as well as a bit annoyed, I thought. Still, that was to be expected. There was a couch in the middle of our already modest cottage. To be honest, I had been thinking about the cream coloured couch, infested with orchids for a full three years! To be honest retirement didn’t provide much in the way of stimulation, of excitement. 

“I thought it was time to redecorate, Flenn. You’ll like it. You’ll see, it just needs some breaking in,” I nodded for an added emphasis.

Flenn Grey 

It was so pretty. In an elderly sort of way. My first thoughts weren’t negative ones. I imagined my mouth had resigned itself to its trademark frown-grimace fusion. Slowly I tried to tell myself, ‘Chrysa was happy, Chrysa liked this couch.’ What more was there to think about? Still as much as I tried, as much as I attempted to repeat these thoughts to myself, my mind was a whirl. My mind was a fast flying whirl, and at the center, stood the fact that I didn’t want it. I didn’t want it and it was going to go. 

First I sighed, “Chrysa, is there a reason why you decided to make this new investment of ours a surprise?” The fingers of my right hand were kneading circles around my palm slowly and unintentionally, a habit I had picked up years ago. 

“For Pete’s sake Flenn, we live here together! We’re stuck on our asses in this house together.” Chrysa had exclaimed with fervor. This had escalated quickly! My fingers worked my palm faster, as I dug my sock feet deeper into our woolen rug. 

“Did it really mean that you had to go on and buy us a new couch, Chrysa ? Wasn’t it enough when we started a new show together? What was it? Progressice - the Progressive folk.” I thought for a second longer about the name of the show. “You know, Chrysa, that progressive lot the-”

“I think it was Modern Family, Flenn,” Chrysa interrupted, sounding bothered. “But, but that is extremely beside the point. Flenn really, have we really grown too old for any sort of change in our lives?” She paused for a moment. “It’s really just a couch dear,” Chrysa looked disappointed, and…angry. I instantly felt bad but. But it really was a terrible couch. 

Chrysa Grey

I walked to our bedroom and closed the door softly. Yes, I was one to get angry, furious sometimes for I had a temper, still I had learned not to take it out on the door of all things. I flop onto our bed in a manner that causes my limbs to protest, I ignore the feeling and spreading out, starfished, my finger tips touching the edges of each pillow. I close my eyes, grind my teeth. There wasn’t much I could change about my life, much I could alter in our situation. A different seat in front of the television was a smart enough choice, at the least it was ineffectual. Flenn and I each had a cushioned armchair, still over the years they had become torn and wearied.

Flenn Grey 

I was at a bit of an impasse. Maybe I had grown too old for change, but was that so bad? Wanting to stay in our weathered arm chairs each afternoon was okay, wasn’t it? Those chairs were a comfort to me. I sighed, lowering myself into my own chair slowly, avoiding irritating myself from any brash movements. I refrained though, from turning on our television set. 

Chrysa Grey

I wondered how much longer this could go on. Four days had passed in a blur of awkward, blundering conservation, each consisting of murmured grunts and maybe the occasional syllable about whether or not they had run out of milk yet. I doubted that we were really as bothered as we were acting. Fighting wasn’t great, still I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something to do. Retirement had laid the foundation for a more long term sense of boredom, that only seemed to develop and rise with time. Love really had nothing to do with the restlessness I had begun to feel.

Flenn Grey

This had gone on too long. I wanted to tell her that she could keep the couch, still the more I thought about it, the reason for her spontaneity, I knew that there was more I could do. I threw myself from my chair with a large inhale. Reaching up, I cracked the bones in my back that needed a refresh. The onyx tainted surface that doubled as both my television and mirror in times like these stared back at me as I tried on a few facial expressions, before walking to our bedroom where Chrysa was reading.

“Hey, Chrysa, what would you think about going for a walk ?’ I saw a smile brush her eyes, she was reluctant to let it fill her face just yet. 

“A walk? To where?” she asked, her voice seeming to fill slightly with uncontrollable intrigue as she closed her book. 

“I guess we’ll know when we get there?” I offered hopefully. We were both tired, in the most lethargic meaning of the word. It was only a couch, and couches happened but maybe our life needed more couches, at least every once in a while. 

“I’ll go and get my jacket, but you, I know how long you take with those shoes of yours. You’d better hurry!” Chrysa exclaimed with mock annoyance. 

Chrysa Gray

We went for walks most days. I don’t know what felt different, maybe it was that it wasn’t three thirty-six, or that our plan was to have none, not to talk about it most of the way. Or maybe it was that today, it was raining. That was new. 

“Alright then” I said, opening the screen door, slick with storm. 

After walking a good half a kilometre I saw that the sky had begun to brighten, just slightly and only in some places but this didn’t stop the unrelenting rain soaking our faces. 

“I’m sorry,” I began with a bit of a huff. “I probably should’ve asked about the couch”

“You’re right, Chrysa. Our chairs were beginning to look a bit worse for wear,” Flenn said a bit resigned. 

“We actually don’t need to keep it though,” I remarked after we had walked a number of steps further. 

“I don’t think I really mind right now dear. We’ll keep it if you want, but there’s no need to worry about the inside at the moment. Let’s enjoy this storm for a while.”

I nodded, “That sounds good.” We continued to walk in a comfortable silence that seemed unfettered.