Aquarium Friday and Other Stories

Aquarium Friday

Aquarium Friday

He woke in the morning and wanted pancakes.

Then he remembered the dust in the kitchen cupboard, and reminded himself to change the newspaper lining. He’d been putting it off since Sunday when she’d brought it up. It was now Friday.

She woke in the morning and said to him, “Please don’t go to work today.”

She sat up; the blankets moved and he felt the chill nibble at his toes.

He said, mostly to himself, “I get unpaid leave.”

The clock said it was nine-thirteen in the morning. It was raining outside and Frank was scratching at the bedroom door. She said, “Let Frank in, will you.”

He let Frank in. Then he left him with her in the bedroom and went to the kitchen. He took out a glass from the dusty cabinet and filled it with water. He picked up the newspaper from where it was wedged under the front door and reminded himself to cancel their subscription.

Back in the bedroom, he said, “Let’s go to the aquarium.”

She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, fiddling with the ring on her swollen finger. He stared at her and wondered what the point of changing the newspaper lining in the kitchen cabinets was after all.

“I can’t –”

“You’re not going to just sit at home.” He sat down in front of her. “Please?”

Frank raised his head from her lap.

“Alright.”

They got dressed. He watched her put on the maternity jeans they’d bought from Mothercare as a joke when they went to buy her niece a present for her third birthday. But when they collected their packets, giggling through their noses, he saw in her eyes that she thought she might need it someday.

She wore the jeans for the comfortable elastic.

He checked his wallet when he thought she wasn’t looking. She read the newspaper like she did every morning while he ate four Nutri-Choice biscuits with a glass of milk, and told him that there had been a jewel heist at the store just a few miles away. He nodded and said, “Funny that people are planning heists while me and you just wake up and go to the aquarium.”

“And take unpaid leave,” she murmured, turning a page.

He looked back at his milk and felt the ring on his finger clink as he picked up the glass to finish the rest.

“I think aquariums are more fun than heists anyway,” he said, searching for a smile. She closed the newspaper and touched his face.

“You have milk in your beard.”

They took the bus to town. He said he didn’t feel up to driving; he could feel himself shaking inside his hands and he didn’t trust himself. It was one of those mornings. He felt like she understood but she didn’t say it.

She pressed her nose to the top of his arm on the bus, her forehead against his shoulder. He looked outside the window through the strands of pink hair floating up from her forehead as if they were trying to break away from the skin. He played connect the dots with the freckles on the inside of her wrist to pass the time.

“I wanna see that praying mantis again,” she mumbled.

“Praying mantis?”

“I mean, the – the thing? The flappy thing.”

“The stingray.”

“Yeah, that.”

“How did you confuse that with a praying mantis?”