"God is married to a
mermaid," she said simply, without emotion, looking out the car window at the
wildflowers.
"What?
What did you just say?" her husband asked, looking annoyed that she had
interrupted him. He had been droning on about his recent raise and how his loser
family would envy and love him even more when they arrived at the annual picnic
at the old nuclear power plant’s cooling
lake.
"You heard me."
She looked directly at him this time. Her tone wasn’t angry, just bored. He
looked over at her and the car jerked to the right; she didn’t seem to notice,
looking away again at the
wildflowers.
"But you
don’t believe in God," he said, still annoyed and
confused.
"It’s not
that I don’t believe in him, I just don’t worship him. Besides, believing in him
has nothing to do with it." Now she was annoyed with him, but she always was.
Her lips tightened, she shook her head; all she wanted was his attention and a
two-sided conversation, but it was always one sided with him. She wrung her
hands together and bit the inside of her lip. Angry energy pounded in her
stomach.
"Well...
anyway..." He continued where he left off about his family’s picnic and how
jealous his brother would be of his raise and new Mercedes. He laughed to
himself; out of the corner of her eye she saw him glance at her to see if she
was listening, so she nodded her head in agreement. Her nose crinkled up and her
mouth turned down as she stared out the window. When he paused, she looked to
see him staring at her
confused.
"What?" she
asked.
"You’re acting
weird... was it the fish last night? Yeah, must have been..." After a short
pause he snorted, and she turned just in time to see his self-satisfied
smirk.
All she wanted
was to enjoy the wildflowers instead of listen to his self-centered "I am God"
drivel. She wanted peace to prepare for the picnic ahead at the old nuclear
power plant. It was bad enough that she had to spend a day with his family, but
the cooling lake-turned-recreation-spot with the backdrop of huge twin cement
towers looming—deadly but stagnant over their play—was even worse. She groaned
in disgust as she glanced over at him smiling at himself. How she hated his
family, maybe even him. She often asked herself why she had ever married him. He
was handsome and wealthy,
but...
As the
wildflowers grew wilder, she began to notice tall, stiff yellow flowers among
the purple lupines and tiny orange sunflowers. It was those yellow ones, jutting
out conspicuously, that reminded her of penises. All shapes and sizes bending in
the breeze. She looked at her husband and smiled. For all his beautiful
perfection, the one thing he lacked was a perfect penis. His was long and
skinny. She rolled her eyes, thinking that the only way she knew it was invading
her was when she felt it jabbing some organ deep inside, creating a sort of ping
pong ball effect that left her insides grumbling and groaning for hours
afterward. She imagined God with an imperfect penis also. All powerful,
beautiful but shallow men must, and that was why they covered up their hidden
insecurities with flawless
outsides.
"Hey," she
said, interrupting him again. "Why don’t you pull over, and I’ll pick some
flowers for your family?"
He looked at her
blankly, then pulled over. While she was picking and choosing, he was bent over
scrutinizing his silver Mercedes for dirt. She looked at him and had a vision of
pushing him out into the path of an oncoming big rig with dead fly guts all over
it. She smiled at the thought, then down at her bunch of flowers that included
only perfect penises, except for the one in the middle of the bunch representing
her husband’s.
"Ready?" she asked,
putting her thumb and finger in the soft, damp
dirt.
"Uh?" He stood up
squinting his eyes until the question registered. "Oh,
yeah."
Before she got
in, she smeared her muddy fingers all over the
door.
At the picnic she
handed out the flowers, keeping only her husband’s to herself. After eating and
drinking and swimming, everyone sat on the lawn chairs and blankets, falling
asleep or finishing off beer and fishing stories. When her husband started
snoring, she gently laid his flower over his crotch, and walked slowly toward
the lake. Once there, she took off all her clothes, hearing gasps and whispers
behind her. The water was cool at first, but then she felt its radiating warmth
as she swam away.