the heel press

Fishes

Jared came in the door and saw his answering machine flashing furiously. He knew why, but he can't really deal with it at the moment.  He walked into his kitchen and poured himself another glass of bourbon. It was not because he didn't remember his daughter's birthday. It wasn't because he didn't want to go to her birthday party and say "Happy Birthday" to her; he even bought a present. He left to see his daughter this morning earlier than he had planned so that he could grab a cup of coffee and have a cigarette or two at the coffee house down the street. He ended up chain-smoking out on the patio of the café thinking of nothing in particular, he didn't even realize he had forgotten the present. Before he knew it, half the day has passed and he had missed his daughter's birthday for the fourth time in five years.

For the first time, Jared noticed there is a strong musky aroma swirling about his dismal apartment. The smell could be contributed to the fact he has never once opened the window since he moved in two years ago. He kept his windows closed to block the noise out. The olive colored refrigerator was the only hint of color that echoed in the bare white walls.

His daughter's voice blared through his apartment from the speakers of the answering machine. Poor Maddie, she choked so hard on her tears, she couldn't even speak. Her sobs staggered, it was giving Jared a headache. He could also pick out Melanie's voice in the background. He assumed his ex-wife was talking to their daughter, but it sounded more like she was talking to her self. Jared heard her making up possible scenarios to explain his absence for Maddie.

Melanie. She and Jared had met underneath a tree during their time at medical school. They sat many afternoons under that tree in silence with their text; it was the fondest memory Jared had from his schooling. Occasionally Jared talked to Melanie, and she would respond with knowing nods. She just listened mostly. Jared felt like someone was listening to him finally. She paid attention to every syllable that he pronounced. Melanie was in the clinical psychology program; Jared thought she liked to listen. Melanie thought she liked to listen.

Two years ago, Jared wrote her a note. He remembered it was around seven-fifty that evening, the family had just finished eating. Maddie wanted to leave the dining table; she struggled in her booster chair. Melanie just sat at her seat without expression, a yellow piece of paper laid in front her beside her plate. After twenty minutes or so, she went to lift her daughter from her chair and put her down on the ground. Then she started to clear their dishes. Jared left the table.

When he came back later that same night, he found his wife sitting at the dining table studying the note intensely.  Jared took the seat across from her, and they continued to sit in silence for the next half hour. Before they married, they often sat like this for at least half a day. Melanie would be working on her psychology researches while Jared wrote his lab reports. When they talked, it was worthwhile. They had each other’s complete attention. As Melanie started to practice psychology professionally, somewhere there, she developed an odd habit of having conversations with herself. She would say all the things she couldn’t say to her patients at home. Worse, she only did it in her husband’s presence. When she became pregnant, her conversations topics included “the baby”. When Maddie arrived, she too was added in the subjects of Melanie’s rambling, along with PTA and trans-fat. The dialogue usually morphed together and it made no sense to Jared.

Her condition was serious to the point that she couldn’t hear anything when her husband talked to her. That was why Jared had to write that note, on a piece of paper torn off from a legal pad.

She asked him for reasons; her eyes concentrated hard on his face. Her attention made him shift uncomfortably in his chair. Maybe he should reconsider, maybe he made a mistake. She let out a soft sob and drowned out his thoughts with her words.

He went into his kitchen and poured another drink. The bourbon bottle was almost empty. The phone rang–– it was his mother.

Why didn’t you go see Maddie?

Regina didn’t go either. She probably forgot. Did you forget?

Regina.

Have you had dinner yet?

Your father and I went to the most awful Japanese restaurant the other night.

How are you, mom?

Well you know your Aunt Janet went with us too.

Your father didn’t listen when we told him not to order wine.

You don’t listen either.

He knows nothing about wine! I don’t think he can tell the difference between Merlot and Burgundy.

Does Regina still drink? She said she wouldn’t anymore.

No. She doesn’t sleep anymore.

Jared sat the phone down; the bourbon bottle is now empty. The clock read three twenty-two a.m. Please could you stop the noise, I’m trying to get some rest. Jared stuffed the note in his empty bourbon bottle and tossed it out the window of his apartment. It exploded extravagantly three stories below. Smash. A car’s burglar alarm went off, Jared laughed.

He thought about Regina again. She loved to write notes and stuff them in bottles. He was not sure if she had ever tossed anything out the window. She probably had. Regina was the jack-of-all-trades. His parents kept company at their house often when she and Jared were young and Regina was always the life of any event that was held at the house. It seemed to Jared that she was born with this innate knowledge of everything in the universe. She knew everything and everyone, and if she didn’t, she would learn it in fifteen minutes and become an expert. Jared knew his parents loved Regina more. He had wanted to be like her, but he just didn’t have it in him.

When it was just his family sitting at the dinner table, they would talk. But if one listened carefully, it was clear they did not talk to each other. Everyone held a separate conversation. They would do it so naturally, as if they had been practicing how to disguise their self-indulgent monologues to sound like actual communication.  Jared kept quiet, he didn’t want to add to the noise. His sister’s condition was not as quite as awful as his parent’s. She remembered to listen from time to time. Maybe that was why everyone liked her so much, because she didn’t pay so much attention to herself. Jared liked her a lot too.

A lot was expected from Regina, they had thought she would become something. She didn’t become anything, she became a writer. Since then, instead of talking to herself verbally, she wrote it all down on paper. She finally realized how noisy everything was.

Jared knew she would still be awake at this hour of the night. He dialed her number.

Regina.

Yes?

You really should sleep.

I know. But it gave up on me.

How are you?

What time is it?

Four-eleven.

Jared?

In the morning.

I know.

You’re on your thirty-eighth draft?

One hundred and fifth. This one is going to be printed. I can tell.

What are you going to do once it’s in print?

Jared, why do you like gutting fish?

I don’t gut anything.

Dead people are like fish, Jared. They’re cold.

Yes. But still, I don’t gut them.

I think I will write a story about you later, a person that cuts fish open for a job.

Fish?

Wouldn’t it be really weird if the dead ones started to talk to you or something? Who do you talk to at work; do you talk to the fishes?

Why do you like talking to yourself so much? It’s noisy, don’t you think?

You sound very tired, Jared.

I am, and I missed Maddie’s birthday again.

You should go to sleep. Maddie’s birthday will come again soon.

But it’s so noisy. Maddie is so noisy.

Go to sleep.

I tried to, but everyone makes noise to stop me from resting.

Go to sleep Jared.

Mom and Dad are noisy.

Jared?

Regina.

Hello?

I hope your novel gets published. I hope you will find quiet.

Jared hung up the phone. His apartment was quiet except for the low hum from the green refrigerator.  He went into his kitchen again, opened his drawer and pulled out a yellow legal pad. He decided he would find quiet tonight. He thought he found it when he met Melanie, and he knew Regina was also looking for quiet in her own way. However, it’s been long enough, he needed to have quiet now. He turned on the stove but not the flames, and climbed into bed. He would show up to work tomorrow as a fish.

On the notepad, it read: Maddie I’m so sorry, Happy Birthday.