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  She thought she looked swollen, like she was retaining water, like she was sickly.

  That same week had the man reconsidering his career path. He looked into podiatry, dental supplies.

  Neither was sure how to conduct themselves over dinner. They were both uneasy and unaccustomed to dining with another person. There was wine, appetizers, salads, entrées, dessert, premature emissions. Otherwise, it was dim sum or tapas, something light. It was so long ago neither can quite remember. There was only casual mention of the minor procedure, of the career path. Neither pressed the other for details as neither seemed eager to disclose certain matters. It was early and inappropriate. Both noted each other’s height. She was a good head taller than he. Both decided it meant nothing, this particular difference. However, they each understood that nothing is relative to both something and everything and situated in close proximity to neither. There is a continuum and they both were aware of this.

  They engaged in the standard back and forth with the understanding that standard back and forth is neither standard nor back and forth.

  The woman says, Surely there has to be…

  The man says, I couldn’t agree more.

  This went on for weeks, these dinners, conversations.

  Then they went to bed, all arms and legs. There was awkwardness, confusion, frustration.

  This, too, went on for weeks.

  She says, This is why I married you.

  He says, Because I’ve never thought to have sexual intercourse with an automobile.

  She says, And you’re good around the house.

  He says, I am versatile. She says, If nothing else.

  He says, It’s my versatility that’s gotten me where I am today.

  She says, You are a dangerous man.

  He says, Hide the women and children.

  She says, And the Buicks.

  He says, I don’t think I shall ever see…

  She says, My only husband fuck a tree.

  He is funny when he calls himself versatile. He is not at all versatile, nor is he good around the house. The man doesn’t know how to do anything, but he tries and what this means is he will go through the motions until it appears he has exhausted every option. Then he calls his friend to come over and has him perform the household tasks and repairs that he has failed to complete.

  His friend has installed the new toilet, the toilet seat, assembled the bookcase in the living room, installed air conditioners.

  The friend fixed the shower door when it went off track last year. He also recalibrated the faucet so that the hot water lined up with the red indicator. For years it had been off some forty degrees.

  Forty degrees as a measurement of angle, not temperature.

  Although the hot water has never been very hot.

  He finished the job by testing the shower himself, unbeknownst to the woman, who walked in on him soaping his abdomen.

  They both apologized to each other, though neither was sincere.

  Both told the story to the man, who thought nothing of it.

  The woman said, What kind of person showers at someone else’s house. She called the friend names when she told the story to the man.

  The man tried to think of an answer but came up empty.

  The man and woman have never showered together, not even in the beginning of their courtship.

  Both think bathing is a private matter.

  Ancient Greeks utilized small bathtubs, wash basins, and foot baths for personal cleanliness. The earliest findings of baths date from the mid-second millennium BCE in the palace complex at Knossos, Crete, and the luxurious alabaster bathtubs excavated in Akrotiri, Santorini. The Greeks established public baths and showers within gymnasiums for relaxation and personal hygiene. The word gymnasium comes from the Greek word gymnos, meaning naked.

  The man and woman ignored the many red flags out of foolishness or hopefulness.

  Hope is always foolish and fools are always hopeful.

  Surely someone, a poet or philosopher, has said this before.

  They were both eager to get on with their lives. They were eager to live like adults. As such, they committed to grand plans and carried the plans out in secret. They didn’t want to include any friends or family. This decision seems indicative of something, but it’s unclear what. They’ve never been able to draw any conclusions concerning this decision. For years, it bothered both of them. What bothered them most was that the other seemed so eager to go along with the idea of excluding everyone from their plans.

  Certainly there was an ordained minister, a witness, and a room for the night.

  The witness was bought and paid for, part of the deal.

  There was a mutual decision to forego the threshold ceremony. The man wasn’t big enough or strong enough to pick up and carry the woman. It is possible that the woman might’ve been capable of doing this, but neither wanted to confront such a thing at the time. It was only years later that they felt comfortable performing their trick at parties.

  The woman would rest her chin on the top of the man’s head and they’d affect certain expressions to induce laughter.

  The man has never been strong. As a boy he was never able to do any pushups or pull-ups in gym class.

  Fools rush in where angels fear to tread was first written by Alexander Pope, in his poem “An Essay on Criticism,” in 1711.

  Alexander Pope was a dwarf, so almost anyone could rest his or her chin on top of his head.

  The woman spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom reflecting in the mirror above the sink. It might’ve felt like five minutes or months or years. The man examined his genitals under the covers while she was in the bathroom. He made sure to wash himself thoroughly before the ceremony. He’s always been hypervigilant when it comes to hygiene, as has the woman.

  Certainly the requisite goings-on ensued, pushing and pulling, testing and retesting, all arms and legs.

  Awkwardness, confusion, frustration.

  The man says, Joyce fucking Kilmer. Tree-fucking dendrophiliac.

  The woman says, Every day was Arbor Day for him.

  There is quiet. They sip at coffee, bite into pastries.

  The woman says, Certainly lightning can take down a tree. A hurricane.

  The man says, But can a tree fall of natural causes?

  The woman says, Those are natural causes.

  The man says, Termites are natural causes.

  The woman says, Women are natural causes.

  The man says, Same difference.

  The woman says, Or vice versa.

  Outside neighbors pass as they walk a dog. These are neighbors from down the block. The woman is friendly with both and sees them around town. They, too, are a married couple. Almost all of the neighbors on this block are married.

  This couple is roughly the same age as the principals, as are most of the neighbors, save one or two nearing retirement.

  This couple, the one walking the dog, live their own lives and have almost nothing to do with the principals, except for certain community endeavors. Along with the woman, they were part of the crew that cleaned the park after the latest hurricane. Trees had been damaged and branches were scattered everywhere and it was dangerous. Children could get hurt, as could any of the feeble-minded adults that live in the area.

  The neighborhood features a home for feeble-minded adults. They are often seen walking through the park in teams before settling onto the great lawn to play games of kickball.

  The hurricane uprooted any number of trees in the park and the streets surrounding the park. This was unusual but not unexpected. Every so often hurricanes pass through this part of the country, but it seems to be happening at a greater frequency the last few years.

  This was a time during global warming, which was a hot-button issue for decades.

  The woman took pictures of the uprooted trees and showed them to the man. She took pictures of the holes under the trees, which looked like portals into an undergroun
d world. They talked about Mother Nature’s power and fury and how small it made them feel.

  The woman talked about the environment and things that could be done to prevent the world’s destruction.

  They discussed this at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning over coffee and pastries while reading the newspaper.

  This day they are discussing other matters.

  Outside there is a world in motion involving people and dogs and trees and birds. The sky and sun are out there, too.

  There are no hurricanes on the horizon, though a tropical depression is beginning to form in the Caribbean.

  This depression could turn into a hurricane but it is too soon to tell.

  Hurricanes evolve through a life cycle of stages from birth to death. A tropical disturbance in time can grow to a more intense stage by attaining a specified wind speed.

  Hurricanes can often live for a long period of time, as much as two to three weeks. They may initiate as a cluster of thunderstorms over tropical ocean waters. Once a disturbance has become a tropical depression, the amount of time it takes to achieve the next stage, tropical storm, can take anywhere from half a day to as much as two days. It may not happen at all. The same may occur for the amount of time a tropical storm needs to intensify into a hurricane. Atmospheric and oceanic conditions play major roles in determining these events.

  Should this depression turn into a hurricane its name will be Melissa, as Melissa is next on the list.

  Hurricanes used to be designated by a system of latitude-longitude, which was an easy way for meteorologists to track them. However, once the public began receiving storm warnings, this became confusing. Scientific precision was discarded in favor of a system of names.

  In 1953, the National Weather Service picked up on the habit of Naval meteorologists of naming the storms after women. Ships were always referred to as female, and were often given women’s names. In 1979, male names began to alternate with the female names.

  There are actually six lists of names in use for storms in the Atlantic. These lists rotate, one each year; the list of this year’s names will not be reused for six years. The names get recycled each time the list comes up, with one exception: storms so devastating that reusing the name is inappropriate. In this case, the name is taken off the list and another name is used to replace it.

  The man says, Vice versa. Vicey versey. Is that Latin?

  The woman says, I don’t know Latin.

  The man says, Me neither.

  The woman says, Does anyone?

  The man says, Does anyone what?

  The woman says, I don’t remember.

  Outside, on the driveway, a pair of slugs is making their way from one end to another. This journey takes five minutes or days or months. They leave a visible trail behind them and as such are easy to track. However, the two slugs will go unnoticed this day. They will make it safely to wherever it is they’re going.

  The slugs are apropos of nothing, but they are out there.

  The man has poured salt on countless slugs over the years and has left their desiccated carcasses out on the driveway as a warning to others.

  The man doesn’t need his friend to do everything.

  He says, Your friend.

  She says, Does anyone remember my friend?

  He says, I don’t. What I mean is, I can’t remember…

  She says, You shouldn’t remember her.

  He says, Why not?

  She says, She is not memorable.

  He says, I think I loved her once.

  She says, I think you’re mistaken. I think you’re thinking of someone else.

  He says, You are probably right.

  There is no telling what the man is referring to here.

  Maybe three weeks after the wedding, the woman died in her sleep but was resurrected by the man. This is how he thinks of it, though it was clearly resuscitation and not resurrection.

  The man is not at all religious and neither is the woman.

  He didn’t think he was capable of resuscitating anybody, as such a thing takes knowhow and skill. The man had never taken a class on CPR but had seen CPR performed on television and so he went through those particular motions. First he tried clearing her airway, which was already clear, and then he blew into her mouth. In between these breaths, he pounded on her chest. He counted to five while doing the chest compressions.

  Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) is an emergency procedure, performed in an effort to manually preserve intact brain function until further measures are taken to restore spontaneous blood circulation and breathing in a person in cardiac arrest. It is indicated in those who are unresponsive with no breathing or abnormal breathing; for example, agonal respirations.

  What happened was she stopped breathing in the middle of the night. She’d told him when they first started sleeping together that she had a sleep disorder, which meant he shouldn’t be alarmed should she wake with a start in the middle of the night. He also shouldn’t be alarmed should she fly out of bed and run around the bedroom or climb out a window.

  So the man was prepared for something to happen in the middle of the night.

  This particular episode happened at his father’s house. It is apropos of something, but nothing specific and nothing anyone can identify.

  Everything open to interpretation and misinterpretation.

  After a minute or so, the woman came to. The man wasn’t sure how to conduct himself. He thought it appropriate to give her some air, give her time, room. He asked if he should call for an ambulance and she said no. She said this had happened before, that it was likely to happen again.

  CPR alone is unlikely to restart the heart; its main purpose is to restore partial flow of oxygenated blood to the brain and heart. The objective is to delay tissue death and to extend the brief window of opportunity for a successful resuscitation without permanent brain damage.

  She said she was fine. She said she was used to it.

  He said, You stopped breathing.

  She said, But I started back up.

  He said, Only after I saved you.

  She said, Thanks for that.

  He said, You’re welcome.

  She said, I would’ve started breathing on my own before long. Just so you know.

  The man decided not to respond to this last statement. The man wasn’t sure what to think.

  The woman has stopped breathing in the middle of the night several times since and has always started back up again on her own.

  In the nineteenth century, Doctor H. R. Silvester described a method of artificial respiration in which the patient is laid on their back, their arms raised above their head to aid inhalation and then pressed against their chest to aid exhalation. The procedure is repeated sixteen times per minute. This type of artificial respiration is occasionally seen in films made in the early part of the twentieth century and is probably the first recorded description of formal resuscitation.

  The man might be referring to the woman he was involved with before he met the woman he was to marry at the going away party.

  The woman he was involved with was the woman going away. This woman was leaving in the morning. She was going overseas, back to where she’d come from, where she was raised. She would probably return in a year or two. She was hoping to maybe pick her life back up where she was leaving it off, leaving it behind.

  It’s unclear if the man was part of what she wanted to pick up again.

  This woman wasn’t going away specifically to leave the man behind. In fact, she said she was sorry for that part of it. She said it was regrettable. She said she had business to take care of back home. It was a great opportunity, one she couldn’t pass up.

  The man and woman are reading. They are across from each other at the kitchen table.

  The man rises and walks to the counter where the coffee pot sits. There is still at least half a pot of coffee remaining. Soon someone will have to make another pot. For the sake of fair play, let’s say th
ey take turns doing this. The house rule is, whoever finishes a pot is responsible for starting the next one. The man and woman can drink up to three pots of coffee on a Sunday between the two of them.

  The man refills his cup and asks his wife if she’d like a refill. More often than not, she will want a refill, but not always. Sometimes he will refill her cup without asking but sometimes she scolds him for this. She’ll say something like, Who said I wanted more coffee.

  At first she doesn’t respond because she is concentrating on the story she is reading, which concerns the city council and their efforts to shut down a local massage parlor.

  He says, I remember loving her once.

  She says, When do you remember loving her?

  He says, It was summer, I think, and the city was empty. Everyone was somewhere else. When I say everyone, I mean everyone I knew. There were other people, sure, but I did not know them. I didn’t care to know them. I saw them milling about on the street, congregating in barrooms and restaurants, but I had nothing to do with those people. They had their own lives to tend to and I couldn’t be bothered. And the truth is those people wanted nothing to do with me either. It was all very mutual.

  She says, They were fall-down trees in a fall-down forest.

  He says, Indeed. I remember having nothing to do at all. I remember every day there was nothing. There was no one to visit, no one to drink with, nothing to work on, nothing going on whatsoever.

  She says, Where was I during this?

  He says, I don’t remember, where were you?

  She says, Were we together then?

  He says, This is what I don’t know. I remember I spent most of my time waiting for the mail. Every day I waited for the mailman to deliver the mail. Every day I looked out the window and kept watch for him. Had I a candle I would’ve put it in the window. I think his name was Benjamin. I think he was like a father to me.

  It probably wouldn’t surprise anyone that the woman developed asthma shortly after the resuscitation. The man would listen to her wheeze in the middle of the night. He’d say, Isn’t this why you have an inhaler?

  She wouldn’t respond to this question.

  She’s never wanted to acknowledge that she has asthma, that she is the sort of person who’d develop asthma.