By WY

Martin lounged in bed, smoking a cigarette, while Maggie sat up against the headboard and browsed a magazine. He went to glance at the alarm clock, then decided not to worry about it. Days like this were rare, and he intended to enjoy them. Maggie looked up and beamed at Martin suddenly, “Oh by the way, I know you don't really have a place to keep it, but I got you something.”

A familiar creak and slam rose up into the bedroom as front door opened and slammed shut. His body moved on its own, while his mind stumbled out of the gates. He got up, ignoring whatever Maggie was saying, hopped into his pants, grabbed his shirt, and had his hand on the door before he stopped to think about what he was doing. He was sweating and he couldn’t breathe.

Maggie half-whispered, half-shouted at Martin as she fumbled around the sheets. Was she losing her mind? He went to tell her where the cigarettes were but heard himself ask, “Why are you whispering?”

She glared at him. “Who's home?”

Martin whipped his head around again and stared at the staircase.

“Go check!” She whispered, pushing him out the door.

Martin went into the hall and closed the door behind him as he failed to do his belt buckle. Who would be here at this time of the day? He waited for the possibilities to come, but all he could think of was the mailman. George might have been his name. He struggled into his shirt which had gotten tighter since he'd worn it this morning, and went to greet George.

There stood Helen. Helen didn't deliver mail. Helen was his wife, who never delivered mail. He felt his heart attack returning. She was staring at him.

“What-” both of them began. The silence was uncomfortable.

“Oh I forgot,” began Helen, “I completely forgot my uh, lunch.”

“Oh,” went Martin. He processed this shocking news. “Yeah, so you came back to get it... Did uh, you didn't want to get anything downtown eh?” He rubbed the back of his head.

“The cafeteria was closed today. Yeah all the staff- ...left,” She spoke the last word abruptly.

Martin could feel himself sweating. She realized something was wrong. His excuse had been about lunch. She was clearly waiting for something, anticipating.

“Yeah, I got laid off.” What the hell was that Martin?

“What?!” exclaimed Helen. There was panic in her eyes.

“Um, that's why I'm home. And sweating.” He hadn't meant to say that. He gave a weak smile to show he was joking.

“Oh god oh god,” Helen held the sides of her head.

“I... I just, the branch was closed down just today! I swear it was!” He went to the newspaper on the kitchen table. “See? It's right, uh, it's somewhere in here.” He began flipping through it, not finding anything in particular and showing her. “See?”

“Oh god oh no oh god oh god,” she seemed like she was about to cry.

“No, you, I just, I, we're- we're going... We're going to take a trip!” He practically screamed the last part. She stopped panicking for a moment and stared at Martin. “What are you talking about?”

“No, it's good news actually. It's really, really great news. I got a phenomenal severance package, and now I can pursue... what I want.”

“Oh... really?” She seemed confused. “I didn't- well I heard they don't give severance packages unless you'd worked there a while.”

“Yeah, umm, that's what they said. At first. But um, the boss really likes-liked me.” Martin knew that wasn't even slightly true. For example, he was home on an extended lunch break instead of working. She seemed to be buying it though.

“Really? I thought they didn't like you that much.” Or not. He wasn't sure this would be better than crying.

“No. You know what they say, sometimes it just seems like they don't like you.” Martin wasn't sure that was a saying. “The boss told me that they really liked my work. So now we have all twent-” How much would a severance package be? “All the severance package money, so we're going to take a trip!” Maggie wouldn't enjoy that. Maggie whom he'd forgotten upstairs.

“Oh! That's... ummm. Maybe we should wait. I don't know if I can take the time off work. And they're so expensive.” She seemed guilt-ridden.

“Ah, that's too bad then.” He was glad she didn't want to go, but now he wondered, why did she never want to go? “Where did we go last year?”

“I was helping coordinate the new project,” and she added sadly, “with no overtime.”

“You're... busy a lot.” Martin wondered if Helen would ever cheat.  “I was... am. But I was thinking I could take some time off soon.”

“Yeah?” He said, trying to smile. She didn’t seem to notice. “We'll go to... the mountains.”  He'd expected more resistance. Maybe a trip wouldn't be bad.

She laughed in a strained way. “The mountains? Is that a new restaurant?”

“Yeah, they serve moose and chipmunk.”

She laughed for real this time. Martin wasn't sure why.

“You know where we should go? That mountain resort your company wanted to buy. Lake Chippewa or something?”

“Oh, Lake Chindewe?” Martin's company did send him to help evaluate potential purchases sometimes, but that hadn't been one of them.

“That's the one.”

There was an extended silence. “Um, well?” Inquired Helen.

He didn't think he was very sentimental, but he couldn't bring himself to bring Helen there.

“It closed down actually. They started cutting corners or something and someone shut it down over the food.”

“...What?” Helen walked over to the newspaper Martin had been flinging around. “Isn't this it?” She opened it to an advertisement for Lake Chindewe. “I thought I saw it this morning...” Martin felt his face turn to stone. It was his poker face. He wasn't good at poker.

“Martin? Is there anything you aren't telling me?” She spoke softer now. She got closer. He knew what came next. He felt his insides curling up. Helen became... rough when angered.

“What's that smell?”' Martin knew at that point that he was dead. He wasn't even on death row, he was already being lowered into his grave. He was the standing dead at the moment. He was a dead man.

“Martin... what's that on you?”

“We went out for lunch.” He started. “With the severance package money. And the waitress, I mean a coworker, she was really upset.”

She didn't seem convinced. “Wait,” she sniffed again. He thought she resembled a wolf an awful amount. She probably knew what kinds of perfumes a woman would wear to a lunch. A coworker wouldn’t wear what Maggie was wearing. Or a waitress. Which did he say? He felt like he was having that heart attack again.

“Do you smell smoke?”

Martin couldn't believe his luck. He'd forgotten something in the oven. He had a few minutes to figure out what else to say. Although... he thought he'd had sushi.

He looked around, and realized there were thin tendrils of smoke playing with the staircase lights. Helen had spotted it too. They both walked upstairs, and saw, from the bottom of the master bedroom, smoke oozing out from the top of the door, up the ceiling, and drifting down the stairs. Helen cried out.

“Oh no.” Martin ran to the door, gripped the doorknob, and instantly reeled back clutching his hand. “Oh god it's hot!”

“We have to leave! Get your cellphone and go!” Martin wasn't budging. She looked back at him incredulously. “What are you doing? Are you going in there?”

Martin didn't want to, not one bit, but he couldn't leave Maggie in there. He braced himself and charged at the door, twisting the doorknob as fast as he could. He tackled a plume of smoke that raged out the door. He could almost hear Helen's coughing over the raging, crackling fire. It was intensely hot. The bed, the curtains, all the clothing and robes, and bits of carpet had caught on fire. Every part of him wanted to leave, everything were telling him it was too hot. He stayed low, squinting his watering eyes; he fire was desperately trying to smoke them shut. He looked around, looking for a body, something. His hands groped around. They grabbed something. It was small, and it wasn't too hot, so he kept it.

Suddenly he couldn't bear the heat anymore. He was already disoriented, his lungs were on fire, he could only see blobs. He dove for a pale blue light he thought was the doorway.

He found himself in the bathroom. The smoke and fire hadn't quite made their way here yet. On the table were all their glasses, haphazardly thrown around. The window was open, the screen rested in the tub, which was full of water. Martin respected the effort, as terrible as it had been. He stuck his head out the window, and was shocked to see four pillows piled at the bottom. Before he could consider it, his choice was made. He heard a ear shattering crack! as the bed broke through one layer of floor.

He had never been afraid of heights, or falling, at least, no more than the next guy, but the two floor drop looked harrowing. He climbed up into the frame of the window using the toilet, and slowly let his legs dangle over. He realized he was still holding something in his hand, and looked over to see a picture frame, covered in soot. He went to wipe away some of it, when he heard another crack. He felt house vibrate as he slipped.

***

A firefighter brought over some water. Martin and Helen sat on the back of an ambulance, where a paramedic was inspecting his ankles. The firefighter and Helen were arguing about something. Martin thought he heard the word “cigarette” at one point. He went to drink some water and found one of his hands occupied by a frame.

Helen stopped suddenly. “Oh Marty, you grabbed a photo?” She broke down on the last word. He gave her the soot covered silver frame and hugged her. She smiled at him as she wiped away the ash.

Martin wondered how far his broken ankles would carry him as he stared at the photograph of Maggie barely in a bikini, signed in still-legible letters "We'll always have Chindewe", signed with a lipstick kiss.

2016-03-13