By: S.T. Cartledge
Lou married a small apartment building in
Downtown, and the next thing, she's invited him over for dinner with his new
tower-in-laws.
Her name was the Claire Street Apartments,
and they took the number six bus to meet up with her parents, the Pegasus
Towers. Claire was pretty big, but her parents were massive. They were right on
the foreshore, two big shiny silver buildings that punctured the sky. Over
time, they had grown closer to each other, with a number of bridges connecting
the buildings to each other, and the creeper plants climbing up the walls and
getting tangled.
This was the first time Lou met the Pegasus
Towers, and the first thing he did when he saw Mrs. Pegasus was pull a cat
face. She laughed and invited him into her elevator. Claire smiled with her
windows and Mr. Pegasus nodded with his doors and gave Lou the go-ahead.
Walking into the elevator was like giving Mrs. Pegasus a kiss on the cheek,
without the grimy building after-taste.
The inside of Mrs. Pegasus Tower was completely
different to the Claire Street Apartments. It was like walking into a kitsch
museum. Pink floral wallpaper and polished timber pedestals with ceramic dogs
and clowns and milkmen, and framed embroidery artwork of cats with captions
that were supposed to be funny, but were only really funny in that
warm-and-fuzzy kind of way that appeals to sentimental old buildings.
On the forty-seventh floor, Lou came out to
the balcony and Mr. Pegasus was right there, his radio antenna blinking and
Claire was a little way down and her fiery red roof tiles were as beautiful now
as the day Lou met her. On their first date they went to the Sistine Chapel and
Lou climbed onto Claire's roof and picked boogers from Adam's nose. She giggled
and the windows rattled. Then they went to the Leaning Tower of Pisa and pushed
it over. Just pushed it the fuck over. One thing lead to another, led to a
train entering a tunnel, and then smoke was billowing out of her chimney.
Lou said to Mr. Pegasus, “are you excited
about becoming a grandfather?”
His rooms shuffled awkwardly and said,
“sure, why not.” Lights flickered. “Are you thinking of having kids soon?”
Claire looked up at Lou, big flickering
lights and heavy curtain cheeks.
“You didn't tell them?” he said.
“Tell us what?” the Pegasus Towers asked.
“We're pregnant.”
“Claire,” her father said. “Is this true?”
Claire whimpered and burst a water pipe. It
leaked through her floors and soaked the carpets and dribbled down the side of
her face. She was an ocean inside.
“No,” she said, in her little night-time
voice. “I'm not pregnant.”
The towers went dark and cold and silent.
“What happened?” Lou asked.
“Nothing happened,” she said, sniffling.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing happened! I'm not fucking
pregnant, I never was, ok! I was scared. Can we just drop it?”
“What were you scared of, Claire? What were
you scared of?”
“I was scared you would leave me.”
“So you lied to me? About a fucking child!?
You're insane.”
“Don't do this to me. I knew this would happen. Stupid fucking chimney-sucking prick!” Her roof-tiles trembled and started coming loose.
“Don't do this to me. I knew this would happen. Stupid fucking chimney-sucking prick!” Her roof-tiles trembled and started coming loose.
“I can't take this... I was trying to do
the right thing by you! I can't take this any more.”
He climbed over the balcony. It was a long
drop. The impact was forty-seven floors worth of splinters and broken
porcelain. It was like a hurricane came through. But it just came through right
there and touched nothing else, even though it felt as though the geography had
been permanently altered.
Mr. Pegasus turned to Claire with a twitch
of a grin and said, “honey, baby, clarinette, my little fairy princess... that
boy wasn't right for you.”
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Bio: S.T. Cartledge is a professional flâneur,
part time turtle-trainer, and part turtle. He enjoys long turtle walks
in the park, long turtle walks from the beach to the ocean, and
occasionally snapping at leaves and old people. He has also made a habit
out of writing things he sees. Everything he writes is some variation
of the truth. You can visit him and his turtle friends at http://themanifold.wordpress.com/ Turtle rides: $5.