Page 39 of The Auction
“Fuck around and find out.” Then he left.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I did fuck around if I might be punished with more orgasms.
Then I pushed that ridiculous thought aside and started to pull dinner together.
It was my turn to cook.
Later that night,I was sitting in the recliner and he was on the old couch that was too small for him while we watched some documentary on the finding and killing of Osama Bin Laden. He loved the non-fiction stuff and I could tolerate it, so it was a common pick of ours.
We hadn’t spoken over dinner. It wasn’t exactly intentional. I couldn’t tell if I was mad at him, or maybe a little disappointed with myself, that I hadn’t used these months after Herb had died to start really thinking about what came next for me. Planning for something. Anything.
Because the truest thing he might have ever said to me was that he wasn’t stopping me from doing anything. Yes, I was married, but I wasn’t exactly the prisoner I liked to refer to myself as.
“Hey,” he said, looking over at me. “Dinner was good tonight.”
It was good. I tried this new recipe I’d found online.
I was about to reply that anything was better than spaghetti every other night, but maybe, just maybe, I could put the sword down for a while.
“Thanks,” I said. “I saw it online and thought it mighttaste good. It was just a mustard sauce with chicken, but it turned out well.”
“Hmm,” he said, his one arm behind his head, the other on his chest, his legs stretched out. His feet dangled over the armrest of the couch. When he fell asleep, he usually had to curl up his knees.
“You know, now that I think about it, I’m not all that attached to the couch,” I said. “If you wanted to replace it.”
His eyes pinned me where I sat. “You said it was the only thing your father cared about.”
I winced. “Yeah, but I didn’t care about him at all, really, so…”
“You were fucking with me.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
He sighed but didn’t say anything. Then he swung his legs off the couch and motioned like he was going to his room. But he paused the show, which meant he wasn’t done watching it. So he wasn’t going to bed. Instead he left the living room and a few seconds later came back with a brown bag.
“I was going to give you this earlier, but you pissed me off.”
“Yeah, me?” I was putting down the sword. I wasn’t putting it back in its sheath.
He pushed the bag in my direction and I took it. Reaching inside, I had zero thoughts on what it was going to be, but when I pulled it out of the bag, I immediately recognized the packaging.
Sleek. Whitish, rectangular box. Two halves that slid apart like a dream.
“Are you shitting me?” I whispered.
“You might be the last person in America to have one.”
It was a phone. An iPhone. It felt like he was handingme the world. Unlimited access to the internet was one thing, but to have it in my hand. Wherever I went? Whenever I wanted.
It was already on and fully charged. Programmed with my name on the display.
Except my name was Jules.
“How?”
“What do you mean how? I ordered it and added you to my plan. I was going to surprise you with it, but then, like I said, you pissed me off. Only now I realize this might help…expose you to shit. See what captures your interest. The motherfucker is addictive so you’re limited to sixty minutes of screen time a day. That’s not me controlling you, that’s me saving you. I’ve got the same restriction. Trust me.”
I looked up at him with his ugly face and dark, black eyes. Only I didn’t understand how I was feeling in this moment.
