The Shrimp Situation
Short story
Lisa hovers over the stove, her back to Jack. She wears a poofy black and white housedress, her mousy blonde hair tied back in a white ribbon for fancying up presents. Every once in a while she opens her hands wide and squeezes them back shut. They are aching today because of the cold. She thinks she might have early rheumatoid arthritis. The backs of her hands have grown a bit scaly from scouring dishes and cleaning the kitchen, but her palms remain soft, and every once in a while she runs the smoothness of her right palm over the roughness of her left hand.
The red-tiled kitchen barely has enough room for one person, let alone two adults and a St. Bernard. Billy raises his paw against his forehead, trying to ignore the bickering couple, but remains curious enough to stick it out in the kitchen.
Lisa furiously rubs a sponge into the kitchen counter while staring at a red sauce stain that’s on the wall behind the oven. She can reach the oven, the kitchen sink, the microwave, and the refrigerator from where she is standing. She can turn around and take two steps out of the kitchen, but she isn’t about to leave. She doesn’t want to turn around and face Jack.
She mutters something and Jack replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only wanted to know why you thawed out the shrimp when you know you don’t like it. You’re being Miss Melodrama.” He turns on his heel and walks to his computer.
From the kitchen, Lisa hears screaming, things being thrown at the wall. After about half an hour Jack returns to the kitchen muttering, “I’m sorry about the shrimp situation.”
Lisa is not willing to respond, the ache in her stomach and face causing tears to stream down. She catches tears with the crook of her elbow before they fall into the pan of steak and pepper stew she’s making for lunch. It is Jack’s 29th birthday.
The weather is finally normal. A February ice storm has hit Oklahoma and 60º temperatures have dropped back down to a normal 22º. The ice is in solid sheets on side streets and in many parking lots. Fires have been raging all winter. The moisture is a relief.
Lisa hasn’t bought anything yet for her husband. They’ve been married almost four years, the romance never planned anymore, just blooming and budding at unexpected times. And, the fights.
At the grocers, Lisa circles the store, passing the same stocker boy at least a dozen times, her version of pacing. The boy looks at her like she has been released too soon from a mental asylum. She feels old, even though she is only 27. She didn’t make a cake. Any good wife would have already made the cake. She thinks of Brandy and Saul. Brandy is always cooking. Working and cooking and happy.
Lisa is determined to prove to Jack that she can cook without burning everything. It will be the best birthday present she’s ever given. Then it occurs to her that this is selfish. Cooked shrimp and cocktail sauce are two for the price of one. She picks up two. An hour later, she is shoving the shopping cart through the iced parking lot, trying not to slip.
Jack raises his eyebrows when Lisa comes back, balancing two bags of shrimp cocktail sauce in her left hand. She glares him down, saying firmly, “Don’t argue.” And, he can’t. After all, it’s his birthday, he loves shrimp and he should get to eat it.
Lisa runs hot water over the crustaceans. It seems that Sundays are becoming the days to stay to herself in the kitchen, away from the two of them. She puts the extra pack of shrimp up in the freezer. Then, they sit together on the black futon, his hand on her thigh, eating shrimp, wondering what comes next.
You might also like my fiction list or these short stories:🍁 A Glimpse of Autumn
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