”Hi, love.”

“Lee,” she started, “you’re not dressed yet?”

“What for?”

The door shut behind Elsa and framed her disbelief like a painting. “Lee, I told you. We’re going out to dinner with Henry, Jen and Gracielle.”

“Oh,” he looked up at her. “That tonight?”

“Yes, that’s tonight.”

“Huh. Didn’t know that was tonight.” His eyes fell back upon the magazine like the tapering syllables from his lips.

“Lee.”

He didn’t answer.

“Leland!”

He shut the magazine and glared up at her. “What, Elsa?”

“Don’t start this again…”

“They’re your friends.”

“Just don’t.”

Their eyes locked, blinkless. In the parted-mouthed silence, Leland became more resolute at the prospect of hearing her back down. Elsa thought about his stubbornness signaling a married life marred with difficulty. Outside their apartment, it began to snow.

“Lee…” she sighed.

He opened the magazine again.

“… I don’t want to have to force you to hang out with my friends, honey. But I don’t want to have to start asking you to do so in favors, either.”

He turned the page and started bouncing his right leg with the front of his foot. She approached him slowly.

“Now you promised me last week that you would come. I reminded you.”

He bounced his leg faster.

“Leland-”

“Goddammit, Else!” He tossed the periodical aside. “Is it that hard to say I’m sick or something?”

Elsa’s eyes widened. “Don’t you swear at me.”

He rose to his feet. “I don’t recall committing to anything.”

“I made the reservations and reminded you.”

“Else, this isn’t an argument. I’m tired from working my butt off and I don’t want to go to dinner.” He started walking toward the kitchen.

“Do you think,” she said, following him there, “do you think for one second that I don’t work myself to the bone every single day? I had five new clients today and I’m riding on three hours of sleep.”

“Oh! Sure… three hours.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I heard you snoring for at least four. See, I didn’t sleep much either…”

She scowled at him near the sink as he began cleaning a cup he had already rinsed before.

“… so you know,” he chuckled, “don’t go telling me that you-”

“Do you think you’re funny?” she asked fiercely.

“Else… c’mon.” He turned serious as the snowfall picked up outside. “You’re making such a big deal out of this dinner. How necessary is it for me to be there? Will I make that big a diff-”

“Would you please please please please please please stop arguing,” she said, drawing nearer. “You aren’t getting out of this one.”

“What?”

“This is the same stunt you said to me last time and I went along with it.”

“When?”

“Weekend before Thanksgiving. Boston.”

“I don’t,” his voice faltered after this powerful display of memory. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“You’re coming.” Elsa turned toward the bedroom and walked with her head high.

But there was no finality in Leland’s mind. Newly furious, he chased after her. “This isn’t a damn game, Elsa.”

She stopped mid-stride, motionless. He wanted to see her face behind her long, dark hair. All he saw was her clutching her purse tightly and then:

“Leland. Stop being so fucking pathetic and come accompany your wife to dinner.”

The word reverberated through the walls of the building. A long stretch of rapid breaths was felt in its wake. As Leland shook his head and started walking toward the door, Elsa sensed his energy move about behind her back. A faint regret emerged from the grand scheme of her infuriation.

She turned around. “Where are you going?”

“I’m done,” he said, grabbing his coat and scarf.

“Hun-”

“I’m done with you.” And after putting both articles over one forearm he flung open the door and descended out of sight.

***

Leland stomped down the stairs and reached the front door. He turned the knob and shoved it with all his built-up momentum, casting it off into the outer darkness. Huffing at the top of the stoop, the door swung shut and framed his fury like an action photograph.

The snow was coming down hard, but he didn’t seem to realize it quite yet. He cut through the storm like a trenchant critique and sloshed his way down the avenue toward his car. He thought he was walking on the sidewalk but wasn’t entirely sure. The height of the street and sidewalk was nearly level now, merging along the white, powdery curb. When he reached the corner he noticed the bright headlights of hum-colored taxis peek out through the snowfall like cat eyes and righted his trajectory.

As he stepped onto the next block, all his senses finally yielded to the elements. Knowing that his car was close by now, he dug into his pockets for the keys. After a minute of fumbling he stopped, a dark and lonely statue getting pelted and weighted with the snow. And then, with a long, heavy sigh, Leland realized where he had left his keys and his anger melted away.

At that moment, the cabs accelerated down the road behind him. With them went the majority of available light and left almost complete, pure night, as sometimes happens in the dense, residential pockets of the Upper East Side.

Leland looked around him. He searched for a store or a bar or a restaurant he could duck into to avoid the flakes, and when he didn’t find anything, he thought about the only awning within the last block that he knew could cover him from the cold enveloping his shivering being.

***

Elsa spun the key-ring around her index finger as his voice crackled through the intercom.

“Sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry. Please let me in.”

She thought about apologizing, too, but instead just listened.

“Sweetheart, are you there?”

She worked her lips trying to speak, but remained quiet a little while longer.

“Elsa?”

Finally, she buzzed him in and cracked open the door. She heard his steps slowly making their way up the stairs while she lingered at the entrance with bated breath.

Leland reached the apartment and leaned slightly into the frame. “Elsa, I-”

“Do you want to come back in?” she asked.

“What?”

“Do you want to come back in?”

“Well,” he paused momentarily before answering. “Yeah, I do.”

Elsa moved her fingers from his car keys to the apartment ones. “I’m not letting you back in,” she asserted.

“Oh…”

She then presented his whole keychain within plain view. “Forgot these?” She noticed him look at them then back at her.

Leland’s face tried to assess her inscrutable motives. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Ok, I can give you these if you’d like,” she said, extending them out the crack. “Here you go.”

With a reluctant motion he went for them. In a flash, she pulled them away, milliseconds from his grasp.

Elsa knew he would hesitate. She waited for his confusion to set in before speaking again. “I can give you these only if you tell me something that makes me smile.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Leland stood there gathering his thoughts. After a few moments, he entertained the offer. “Sure, ok.”

She clutched his keys tighter. “Actually… actually, that’s too easy.”

“Come again?”

“Yes, that’s too easy. Lee, I’ll give you back your keys if you tell me something that makes me laugh.”

Leland leaned back from the doorway and riffled through his brain. “Fine, ok,” he said, squinting his eyes in deep thought. He stood there quietly for what seemed like a long time, and Elsa saw him do many cute things, from tap his foot to fidget in his coat. She tried to hide a smile as best she could.

“Go ahead,” she insisted. “I’m waiting.”

“Ok, ok,” he assured her. “Do you,” he began, taking a deep breath, “do you remember the first time we had sex?”

He had caught her by surprise. It took a couple of seconds for her to answer.

“Years ago,” he prompted.

“Um, yes,” she said, concentrating upon his face curiously. “Of course.”

“Well, do you remember after we had sex, after we made love… do you remember afterwards when I went out onto the balcony and smoked a cigarette?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Well, when I went outside to smoke that cigarette, I don’t know if you remember this or not, but you heard me let out this scream after a couple of minutes. It was a really embarrassing, girly scream that completely screwed up my whole intention of being this, I don’t know, masculine god that had just whisked you away to pleasure heaven.”

She gave into the smile. “Yeah, I remember. Go on.”

“I told you it was because I saw a hit and run on the street.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see a hit and run.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. I didn’t see anything.”

With that Elsa became serious again and rubbed Leland’s keychain between her fingers, absorbing the moment.

“I burnt myself like an idiot,” he chuckled. And pantomiming the following, he told her: “I took a butt out of the pack and stuck it in my mouth, but I was so happy, so giddy after being with you that I bent forward a little too much to light it and with my shaking hands I lit the tip of my friggin’ nose.”

She smiled once again as he concluded the story:

“Right here,” he grinned, pointing to it.

When he stepped back and hunched his shoulders at her, she finally laughed, and there was a dynamism that introduced his chest to a rhythm familiar and thrilling. He laughed along with her and for a good minute or so that’s all there was.

As their laughter wound down Elsa lowered her head, trying to figure out what to say. At last, collecting her composure, she looked back up her husband and pushed aside several strands of hair.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the keys. “Listen, this is your apartment, too. I’d love it if you came back in.”

Leland nodded and stepped inside as she opened the door.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, approaching her. “Listen, about dinner-”

“I started cooking it already.”

He paused. “Cooking it? What about-”

She shook her head. “They all canceled. It’s a small-scale blizzard out there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she exhaled.

“Well, what’s for dinner?”

“Find out for yourself. I started it but I’m not finishing it.” She saw him make a funny face and, almost by reflex, closed-in to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry about before,” she said.

“It’s ok,” he muttered in the squeeze.

“Listen, we will rain-check that other dinner…”

And when she proposed that half-question she lifted up her head because he didn’t say a word. Their eyes locked, blinkless once again.

“We’ll talk about it at least,” she finally said, lowering back into his chest.

“Ok,” he replied, stroking her cheek. “We’ll do that.”

And as Elsa reached up on her tiptoes to kiss Leland’s lips, he outstretched one hand and pushed their apartment door, which closed shut and framed their embrace like a slender movie screen.

 

About the Author

Luigi A. Juarez

Luigi has been published in Venture Literary Magazine and The Copperfield Review. He is originally from Miami, FL, and now resides in Boston, MA, where he teaches writing and is working on his doctorate in Literature at Brandeis University. You can follow his tweets at: http://www.twitter.com/onedayitsyou