Heat 14 - In the Shadows

Ok.  Here is my entry for NY Madness contest.  I was in heat 14.  Genre:  Open, Location:  Top of skyscraper, Prop:  video camera







In the Shadows

Synopsis: The end of a marriage marked by the sale of a home.

Joan Daly slid the glass door open and was assaulted by hot summer air. Stepping onto the rooftop terrace she closed the door behind her and looked west at the sinking sun. It appeared level to where she stood. In the far corner a small seating area beckoned and she walked towards it, the heels of her shoes clacking against the limestone, the sound almost lost against the rapid fire drilling of the crews working on the street thirty-five stories below.

Behind her the door opened again, and she became instantly conscious of her movements. A quick adjustment and her hips were soon swaying a precise half inch further from side to side. She did not look back until she reached the teak and canvas sectional, where in one flowing movement she turned around, bent her knees and lowered her body onto the seat.

When she brought her eyes up to the face of the man approaching she saw no emotion, and was gripped by fury at having adjusted her movements in any way; a pathetic attempt to elicit a lust that had long since died. He stopped and took off his suit jacket, draped it over the back of the couch and then sat down exactly two cushions away.

“So it’s come to this,” she said.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed at herself further for speaking first. She watched him breathe in and out steadily as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, eyes still closed. She noticed half a dozen more gray hairs had sprouted at his temples and seethed at the fact that it never occurred to him to cover them. Distinguishing grays.

The heat of the setting sun glanced off her skin and she instinctively leaned back into the shade cast by the awning above. Goddamned bastard. Disinterest radiated off him like a cool breeze and she couldn’t even seek comfort in the warmth of the sun for fear of it aging her.

She ran her hand over the bone colored canvas cushion. “Six days,” she said.

“What?” He turned his head and opened one eye.

“Our whole lives to get here for six lousy fucking days.”

He rolled his head back and sighed. “It’s real estate Joan. Six days and we flipped a profit of two and a quarter in the middle of an economic shit storm. There’s nothing lousy in that equation.”

Her laugh was harsh. “An economic shit storm. That’s the weather report from where you sit?”

He opened his eyes and sat up, shaking his head. “No. The weather report where I sit is sunny skies from here on out.” He stood up and put his jacket on.

Her heart was pounding. He was going to leave. A thousand words clamored up the back of her throat, not one of them worthy of being uttered. She felt rooted to her place in the shadows and he turned and walked away. His back was rigid and as he closed the distance to the sliding door she soon realized that he seemed completely unfamiliar to her. This man, this husband of hers for sixteen years could in fact be anyone. Indistinguishable.

A moment later the door opened again and a short, squat woman stepped out clutching a stuffed teddy bear. She shielded her eyes from the setting sun and locating her client, hurried over.

“You didn’t need to be here,” she said.

“I wanted to see it one last time.”

“This was in the linen closet.” The squat woman held out the bear.

Joan did not move. She felt the woman studying her, attempting to gauge her mood. Joan met her stare and the squat woman seemed suddenly unsure. She placed the bear down next to her client and looked back towards the door. “I’ll be inside. Take your time,” she said and hurried away.

Only the fact that she was not alone kept the tears at bay. Finally, she reached out and picked up the bear. She turned him onto his stomach and laid him flat across her lap. Then she slipped a manicured nail into an opening in the brown tufted fur and pulled apart a Velcro seam. Sunlight bounced off the metal inside and she lifted out a small video camera.

She flipped open the side, poked at the buttons and the small machine turned on. She stared at the blue LED screen and the white letters which read INSERT TAPE. Images seared into her memory formed the pictures.

Her husband crossing a room fluid and graceful.

The sound of a naughty giggle.

Bodies coupled together.

A flash of skin. Smooth, tanned, and youthful.

The drilling on the street stopped and the air was muted without it. Joan stood up and stepped into the sunlight. She held up the camera. Peering through the viewfinder she scanned the horizon one last time from the top of the world.