Randall Martoccia<\/p>\n
The landscape was a victim of blight and a dry season. The mountain rose up broad-shouldered and brown and highly flammable. A distant waterfall was a white trickle to the west. Looming on the east was Chimney Rock — bare, imperturbable, and phallic. Truly, no geologic formation was ever more penis-like than the Chimney. In the shadow of this protruding slab, the husband and wife sat at a table on the deck of Kritter\u2019s Restaurant and Gifts. They swatted mosquitoes and drank their iced teas.<\/p>\n
The husband read from a brochure titled, \u201cChimney Rock: Fast Facts.\u201d<\/p>\n
The wife wiped sweat off of her glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cInteresting,\u201d the husband said, \u201cit says here that the chimney was formed by erosion of the mountain around it. It only appears to be thrusting upwards from the mountain.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it granite?\u201d she asked. The wife checked her watch. At noon, the blue law would expire, and she\u2019d order her cocktail. That was twenty minutes away.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvidently, it\u2019s Henderson niece.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNice.\u201d<\/p>\n
The husband turned his empty glass up and drained it. \u201cIt\u2019s just a rock, Joy,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s how you pronounce gneiss. Not niece. Nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked up at the rock and put her lips on the straw. \u201cVery nice,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
The husband tilted the glass and tried to jigger the ice pack loose by tapping the side. It worked. The ice fell on his face.<\/p>\n
The waitress came to the table. \u201cWould you folks like a dessert?\u201d<\/p>\n
The husband asked, \u201cDo you have banana pudding?\u201d<\/p>\n
The waitress smiled and said, \u201cDay-old puddin\u2019, sugar. Would you like to try it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShould I make that two?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMushy bananas? No thanks.\u201d The wife said — not looking up — and slid the brochure closer.<\/p>\n
The waitress turned quickly and disappeared inside the restaurant.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh God, why do you make it so ha — so tough?\u201d the husband asked her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI make it so tough,\u201d the wife said, \u201cbecause the solution is so easy.\u201d<\/p>\n
The husband stood and walked to the deck\u2019s rail. \u201cEasy for you, maybe,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe procedure is not complicated,\u201d she said. She followed him to the rail.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh yes, you told me. A simple operation.\u201d<\/p>\n
She put her arms around him. \u201cRight, honey.\u201d Then she leaned down and nibbled on his ear.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what about afterwards?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA few months of recovery.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I mean, what about between us?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be perfect. We\u2019re so close to happiness.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA mere inch or two away.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned away from him. \u201cNow who\u2019s making it hard?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, that\u2019s the truth, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
The wife walked back to the table. The husband dropped a quarter into the telescope and looked at the mountain. Between the rock and the falls was a long wall of bare rock. Scratched or painted there were Greek letters, high-school abbreviations, and the catch phrases \u201cAvoid the Noid,\u201d \u201cRun and Tell that, Homeboy,\u201d \u201cAll your base are belong to us,\u201d and \u201cHell to the No!\u201d Amid these words of complaint and defiance, one message stood out. It was written in hot-pink blocky letters. The husband read it under his breath — \u201cL\u2019IL BIT I ♥ U.\u201d His eyes grew misty, and he repeated the words — this time loud enough for his wife to hear.<\/p>\n
\u201cI love you too,\u201d the wife said. She un-tensed her facial muscles, and the vertical lines that had been between her eyebrows all day suddenly disappeared. \u201cAnd more, dear, than just a little bit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why — \u201c<\/p>\n
The waitress brought out the banana pudding. The wife checked her watch and ordered a mojito<\/em>. The waitress asked the husband, \u201cHow about you, hon?\u201d<\/p>\n The husband looked at the highway between the restaurant and the mountain. Traffic was heavy, and two cars turned into Kritters. He said to his wife, \u201cAfter-church crowd, ugh\u201d and then to the waitress, \u201cMartini.\u201d<\/p>\n The wife stepped toward the man. She grabbed his hand and said, \u201cGood idea. You\u2019ll drink and calm down and realize that it\u2019s all so simple. It\u2019s just to let some air in.\u201d<\/p>\n The husband, \u201cThere\u2019s a bit more to it than that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s just like\u2026 just like\u2026. Why it\u2019ll be just like ol\u2019 Chimney Rock up there.\u201d<\/p>\n The husband said, \u201cIt will not be like Chimney Rock.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it will.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t just look up there and say it\u2019ll be just like Chimney Rock and the noid will be avoided and we\u2019ll be happy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay. How? How in the hell,\u201d the man said and stopped.<\/p>\n The hostess led a family of four onto the deck. The father took off his coat and loosened his tie. He had a round face and a salt-and-pepper beard. His blue shirt had dark sweat patches under his arms, on his back, and around his collar. The mother smiled at the husband and wife. Her ears were sharp, not unlike a Vulcan\u2019s. The children, a boy and a girl, both about seven years old, walked past without looking up. They had their father\u2019s ears.<\/p>\n The wife whispered, \u201cDear, that big ol\u2019 Chimney doesn\u2019t stand on its own. That\u2019s what the brochure said. It depends on cables and a steel truss.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOne big difference,\u201d the husband said. \u201cWhen those cables were drilled into it, that big rock up there didn\u2019t feel a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t be melodramatic,\u201d the wife said and flinched as a sugar packet flew past her face. She spun around and looked at the family\u2019s table. The husband, wife, and normal-eared children hid behind their menus.<\/p>\n The man says, \u201cOh yeah, and don\u2019t forget the machinery.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMachinery? You\u2019re just exaggerating now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s the air bladder, the cylinders that run along the shaft, and the hydraulic pump itself. I\u2019ll have a goddamned public works project in my — \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDear, the children,\u201d the wife snapped. \u201cNow you\u2019re just blowing things out of proportion.\u201d<\/p>\n The husband opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it for a moment just before laughter burst out of him.<\/p>\n The wife looked at him warily.<\/p>\n The man kept laughing. He managed to get out \u201cblowing things\u2026 out of proportion\u201d between guffaws.<\/p>\n The wife then started to laugh, tentatively at first but soon with as little restraint as her husband.<\/p>\n He brought her close and hugged her. She kissed him. \u201cSo you\u2019ll consider it.\u201d<\/p>\n He then held her close, so close their crotches were touching. He whispered, \u201cHell\u2026 to the no.\u201d<\/p>\n RANDALL MARTOCCIA<\/strong> teaches composition and literature at East Carolina University and screens fiction entries (among other duties) for the North Carolina Literary Review<\/em>. Several of his short movies can be found on YouTube. His previous publications are a parody of Auden\u2019s \u201cMusee des Beaux Arts,\u201d a short story in a now-defunct online magazine, and a poem in War: Literature and the Arts<\/em>. Martoccia may not be a young writer anymore, but he is certainly obscure.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Randall Martoccia The landscape was a victim of blight and a dry season. The mountain rose up broad-shouldered and brown and highly flammable. A distant waterfall was a white trickle to the west. Looming on the east was Chimney Rock … Continue reading