Part 8 (1/2)
”It's true,” she said.
”What's going to happen?” I was practically gaping.
”The Truth will be revealed. And all things, all structures, mental, physical and spiritual that have been built on and supported by lies will crumble, because everyone will be able to see it for what it is.”
”Uh-oh.”
”That's right, f.u.c.k boy, complete exposure. No more lies.”
”I don't lie.”
”Oh. Does your wife know that you're f.u.c.king me?”
”For all I know she's f.u.c.king you, too.”
”Don't be surprised.”
”WHAT ARE YOU doing indoors?” says my wife. ”It's such a beautiful day.”
”Spare me your lesbian cliches,” I say.
”What?”
”Reading.”
”Let's go out.” She's holding her coat. ”You need the exercise.”
”This is exercise.”
I get my coat. It's unseasonably warm. I stand framed in the doorway, the sun at my back. Petra says that galactic energies are constantly bombarding the earth's surface and that we're all being primed for what she calls The Unveiling.
”A worldwide apocalypse, you mean,” I said.
She said, ”It's not what you think.”
MY WIFE STOPS and smiles at me.
”I love you,” she says.
I fidget a bit and say, ”You're a great lady.”
”You're f.u.c.king kidding me.”
”What?”
”Who am I, Eleanor f.u.c.king Roosevelt?”
”I don't know what you mean.”
”Just ... drop it.” She pushes past me out the door.
I feel like confessing. Not so much about my infidelity as about being privy to the coming Apocalypse. Petra seems to have worked out the mechanics of it. I feel fairly certain that I'll play a significant role in future events; Petra and I.
”Let's drive into town,” I say, ”I'll buy you something.”
She glowers, my wife. ”I'm mad at you.”
”Sorry, you caught me off guard, that's all.”
”Do you know how lame that sounds?”
I think about how lame that sounds. Then I think of something else and something else again. Pretty soon I'm thinking of Petra. She said that the goal of consciousness is to discover what isn't.
I drive.
My wife stares at me.
”What?” I say.
”I'm talking to you. Are you just going to ignore me?”
”No,” I say and look out my driver's side window through the trees at the booming sun. ”Is the sun getting bigger, do you think?”
”What?”
”Careful. Shrill factor.” I hitch up my shoulders.
She punches me in the chest. ”Let me out.”
I pull to the curb. There's a park across the street. As she gets out of the car she b.u.mps her head and curses furiously.
I leave my coat in the car, but take my hat and gloves, a truly ridiculous figure.
”Where are you going?” I say, putting on my hat.
She walks towards the shops.
”I was only kidding. Come on, baby.” I pull on my gloves.
She stops, turns to face me with her hand stuck to her head, like a teapot. She looks woozy. I feel oddly attracted to her.
”Honey, come back,” I say.
She sees me, softens just a bit, then says, ”You parked like fifty feet from the curb, a.s.shole.”
I ASKED PETRA who'll survive the coming apocalypse.