Ted watched Muriel, his wife of 20 years, put down her book then turn off her bedside light. He’d hoped at least for the usual “good night,” but wasn’t surprised when she silently rolled on her side, away from him. She’d been moody all day, for the last several days, actually.
This latest bout of moodiness had begun soon after the Spence’s party, where he’d spent almost an hour talking to the newest member of the English faculty, a single woman who’d been brought in to teach Modern Drama. He’d found his new colleague quite personable, and certainly knowledgeable about her field. Though she wasn’t what most would call beautiful, she wasn’t unattractive, either.
Muriel had taken an instant dislike for her, accusing her of ingratiating herself with every man at the party. Ted’s effort to defend her only brought an accusing glare from Muriel.
He’d been baffled by her response. Did she think he was so weak that a woman he hardly knew would be able to lure him away? He had to admit his new colleague had spoken to him with the easy self-assurance one ordinarily associates with old friends. She’d even gone so far as to remark that he appeared physically fit, but he hadn’t found her remark ingratiating. After all, what she said was true. He did, in fact, work out regularly and looked unusually fit when compared with most men his age. Muriel should be pleased that other women noticed.
He moved one of his legs so that it rested lightly against Muriel. She recoiled as though touched by a hot iron, then slowly relaxed, but not enough to restore contact. He waited a few moments, then spoke quietly.
“Over the years, you’ve probably noticed that I like to sleep on my right side, with my right arm bent so that my right hand is under the pillow and beneath my head, while my left hand extends upward so that it rests on my right bicep. My left leg, slightly bent at the knee, rests on top of my right leg, which extends straight toward the foot of the bed. You’ve noticed, haven’t you?”
When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Well, when I die, which will almost certainly be before you, given our age disparity, will you do something for me? Still receiving no response, he went on, “I’ll be eternally grateful if you would tell the mortician to place me in the casket exactly the way I like to sleep.”
He sensed she was waiting for more, “You’re probably wondering what this is about. It’s simple, really. When I’m flat on my back for more than an hour, my lower back stiffens up and hurts like mad. Can you imagine how painful it will be if I have to lie on my back until the end of time? On my right side will be far better. Oh, and nude of course.”
Still facing away from him, Muriel responded, her voice cold, “I’m not interested in one of your attempts at humor right now.”
“Just asking a favor, that’s all.”
“If you’re trying to annoy me, you’ve succeeded. Now let me sleep.”
Before drifting off, Ted wondered about Muriel’s nastiness toward him. He didn’t get it. True, the woman who’d once been referred to as his “raven-haired beauty” now had several gray hairs and a few wrinkles. So did he, but he didn’t go into a funk whenever she talked to a younger man. He thought about trying to reason with her, but decided it was better to say nothing. She’d get over it.
*****
Several days later, as they were preparing to leave the house, he for his 8:00 a.m. class on early American poetry, she for her own job with the local school district, Muriel asked if he had a minute.
“Of course.”
“Emily Spence asked me to have lunch with her today. She suggested you join us. “
“Me? Why?”
“She told me Stuart is stepping down as chair, and is trying to decide whom to recommend as his replacement. If you’ll be joining us, she’ll make sure Stuart comes along.”
“Is she suggesting….”
“Why not? You’re well-liked among the faculty. All you have to do is give Stuart a reason to recommend you. Impress Stuart, and you’ll have a chance to lead the department out of its downward spiral. If you succeed, you could find yourself in line to be the next Dean.”
“Downward spiral?”
“Didn’t you tell me the number of English majors is steadily declining? You said at the present rate, the department will soon have more faculty than students. Stuart might be interested in your idea about how to reverse the trend, you know, your idea about offering courses in technical writing so that English majors can easily find jobs after graduation. You’ve never told him about it, have you?”
*****
Muriel and Emily were already seated when Ted arrived, followed by Stuart. After a few minutes of small talk, they placed their orders, then lapsed into a silence that Ted knew wouldn’t last long. Seizing the opportunity, he spoke up, “Stuart, if you don’t mind, I’d like to pass on to you an idea about how to reverse the steady decline in English majors.”
“I’m listening.”
“As you know, English majors have few opportunities for employment with only a bachelor’s degree. Some find low-paying jobs as copy editors for publishing houses, but most need additional education even to become school teachers. Students these days expect to have marketable skills right out of college, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Perhaps. What’s your idea?”
“Why not develop a technical writing program within our department? Technical writers are in demand.”
“Are you suggesting we teach students how to write instructional manuals and the like?”
“Well, not just…”
“Ted, I’ve known you for many years, and can’t imagine why you’d propose something that would debase our department. I assume you’re joking.”
Before Ted could reply, Stuart went on, “You’ve probably heard I’m stepping down as chair. To succeed me, I’m wondering about asking the Dean to lure Alan Mayfield away from Seneca State. With his national reputation, he’d put us on the map. Think about it, will you? I’m interested in your opinion. Now, I’m sure we’ve bored the ladies enough. Shall we move on?”
Ted glanced at Muriel, and found her staring at him with eyes as hard as steel. The faintest of smiles was playing about her lips.
*****
Ted was barely able to sit through the rest of the luncheon, and was relieved when Stuart glanced at his watch and said he had to leave for a meeting. Ted quickly followed suit, mumbling something about needing to review some notes before his next class.
Within minutes after leaving the group, a swirling storm of dark, unfamiliar feelings began to build in Ted, and by late afternoon the storm had overtaken him completely. He’d never before felt such betrayal, such humiliation. How could she have been so cruel? He dreaded the moment he would have to be alone with her at the end of the day.
They spent an awkward evening during which he and Muriel ate in near silence. Though the peak of the storm had passed, he found it galling that Muriel seemed oblivious to his suffering, and instead tried to make conversation as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred earlier in the day. Once the dishes were washed and put away, they buried themselves in books until bedtime could no longer be avoided.
As soon as both were beneath the covers and the lights had been turned off, Muriel rolled over to face him, “Ted, after you and Stuart left today, Emily and I stayed to chat for a few minutes. I told her what you said about wanting to be placed in your casket nude and on your right side. Emily just cracked up, and told me I’m married to a man who’s not just good looking, but also has a sense of humor. But that’s not all. You want to know what else she said? You’re going to love this.”
Muriel waited a few seconds to give him a chance to reply, and when he didn’t, she went on, “Emily said, ‘I don’t want to offend you, Muriel, but if you tell the mortician to roll Ted over on his back for a few minutes, you know, while he’s in the casket, and if you also tell the mortician to stuff a few of those little blue pills in him, I know of at least two faculty wives who would be drawing straws to see who gets to jump in with him first. That’s before they take him out and plant him, of course.'”
Noticing that Ted was trying to stifle a giggle, Muriel continued, “So, can you guess what I said to Emily?” After pausing a beat, she went on, “I said to Emily, ‘what makes you think he’ll need any of those little blue pills?’ That really got her. By now, we were both laughing so hard people were beginning to stare.”
Again, Muriel paused a beat, then added, “Speaking of which, mister good-looking, why don’t you move a little closer and give your honey a great big kiss? Oh, but before you do, I’ve got something else to tell you. Emily said the Dean will never approve of the man Stuart has in mind. His salary demands will be far too high. Just support Stuart all the way, and once he sees the Dean won’t budge, he’ll recommend you. Now, come over here, big boy.”
As Ted moved closer, he had a sense that something had shifted in their relationship, but he couldn’t quite name it. He decided he’d think about it later.
David Summers is a graduate of Knox College, and now lives and writes short fiction in the Pacific Northwest, where he also teaches literature at Bellevue College. His stories have appeared in numerous publications, including The RavensPerch, Rathalla Review, Flash Fiction Magazine, Mystery Tribune and The Seattle Star.
