"A Pleasant Stroll" by Jake Grubman
The air was light and warm and breezy, and the sun had just passed its highest point in the sky, and Carol felt a comfortable joy that had eluded her since before her children. She and Phil had spent nearly two-thirds of their lives together and knew they could rely on one another. And they enjoyed the little things in life: a warm bed, a cool swim on a hot summer day, a vista.
It was a spring Saturday and they had decided to take a stroll through their neighborhood, which was lined with Tudor revival-style rowhouses and oak trees. They lived off a quiet alcove abutting the park, and the rare flâneur passing by usually paused his reverie just long enough for a genuine greeting before continuing toward the creek that ran along the bottom of the hill.
Carol generally considered herself a homebody and was concerned she would meet unwanted company on any strolls through the neighborhood or beyond. She had been protective of her siblings growing up, and of Phil later on, and of her own little ducklings after she had become a mother.
On this walk, then, she was glad to find that they had most blocks to themselves. She and Phil wandered through the sunlight and under the oaks and maples and sweetgums, their feet quietly clapping against the pavement. The Rihms kept a fountain in their front yard, and with no company, Carol decided to stop for a brief swim.
Fluttering her wings, Carol cleared the stone ledge surrounding the fountain and settled into the water, which was calm and refreshing, and she turned and gave Phil a wink and smile. Phil smiled back before continuing to forage in the shrubbery that ran along the front of the
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“A wink and smile,” what the fuck, do ducks even have eyelids? They definitely don’t smile, can’t even get this stupid shit right, doesn’t even have to make sense, it’s two ducks waddling outside the window! Who’s even going to read it! Fucking! Okay, Greg. Okay. We’re fine, I’m fine. Now breathing in? Now breathing out. I just woke up, maybe I’m hungry, maybe I need to do some more research. Maybe I need to start researching ducks. Or: mallards! Kingdom phylum class order family genus species. If a mallard is a, what, species?, what is a duck? A. Genus? Should look that up. Should look up: duck joy. “Duck AND joy.” Maybe just pick a different animal to make up, like a mallard would even come to this neighborhood, much less outside this window can’t even see a patch of grass from here. Just feeling rusty, that’s all, rusty, first idea that hasn’t swum and simmered and died in this fat head. Not bad, swum, swimmered, died. Simmered, died. So rusty, and soft, softer by the day. God, I need to jog today. I need to, Soft in the body, soft in the brain. Thank god for Sarah. Where is she, should I bring her a snack, probably finishing class, I’ll just finish the tuna salad. Thank god one of us still has a job, she’s probably finishing class, I don’t think I should go in, her students are distracted enough, being stuck inside all day, no friends, no activity. “Here lies Greg: He had no friends and no activity.” They must be going insane, I’m sure school will be back open soon, but god they must be going insane. Thank god Sarah still has her job. She’s so hot. What if she just loves me for my body and my body is getting saggy and fat what if she just loves me for my money and my money is getting less how long will we be stuck in here! Tuna! So much flavor in such a tiny adorable little can, do ducks eat it, would they if they could do they ever feel cozy is that something they want? “Duck AND cozy.” What if she just loves me for my story about two characters who at first appear to be humans but later appear to be ducks. I wonder if I could make a tuna omelet. If there are sixty seconds in a minute and sixty minutes in an hour and twenty-four hours in a day and seven days in a week and we’ve been inside for seven weeks, what if it turns out I don’t really even like to read. What if it turns out Tony Soprano dies in an earlier episode this time around like because we’re just now watching it for the first time maybe it’s different this time that sounds like a new short story idea fuck the ducks
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M pressed delete and stared into an infinite darkness. She straightened her leg and moved toward the edge of the terrace, and to her left swirled a sprite of cool air.
The world had paused and her mind forged on, ceaseless. Boiled over. She breathed.
She considered Greg, and Carol and Phil, and Sarah. She had done this an unimaginably large number of times, but they had evolved. Despite her best efforts, the beginning had shifted inexorably toward the middle, and the middle toward a further middle, and no end laid claim.