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Interview

Sep 18th, 2009 | By Richard Thomas | Category: Short Stories | 443 views

1 SAMSON REINFORCED 60” X 36” FOLDING TABLE: $236.14

The doorbell rings throughout the quiet house as she stands outside underneath the one dim bulb. Waiting on the front porch she takes in the view of the nice, suburban street lined with oak trees and 4-door sedans. Her own battered grey Corolla sits in the driveway ticking. He opens the door.

“Hi how are you, so glad you could make it.”

“Hi Mr. Thompson.”

“Come on in Sariah. Is that how you say it? Suh-rye-uh?”

“Exactly. Like Sarah, but with an I.”

He holds open the screen door for her as she squeezes past him into the foyer. Her jeans are tight. Her pink short-sleeve shirt reads JUICY. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she looks kissed by the sun. Green eye shadow completes her face.

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“Well, how long has it been? You mean you keep track?” she asked.

“I didn’t use to. Then I started to get angry about it, and I wanted to see exactly what was going on. So I’d have some ammunition for this very conversation. This year, we’ve had sex three times. I can give you the exact moment of each: Valentine’s Day, the weekend in Lake Geneva, and whatever went right six weeks ago when we went out for Mexican.”

“Oh that’s absurd. That can’t be right.”

“Oh it is. Do you know how many times we did it last year?”

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“Here follow me into the living room. Sorry the place is such a mess, I was just cleaning up after the twins. They’re a handful at times, but I love them!”

“Oh, it looks fine. Here, I’ll help you with those Matchbox cars.” When she bent over to pick up the 1966 Silver Corvette and the 1967 Red Mustang, her jeans stretch down, revealing a black thong.

“Thanks. Here, you can just put them in the case. Sit down. And sorry it’s just me, my wife is out of town on business, she travels a lot, and the kids are already asleep.”

“No problem.”

“Do you want a soda or something? We have Diet Dr. Pepper, Sprite, and Coke. And bottled water, Evian.”

“Water would be fine, thanks Mr. Thompson.”

“Please, call me Jeff. You’re making me feel ancient. I’m only 35.”

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“No, but I’m sure you do.”

“8 times.”

“That’s a lie…”

“No, it isn’t. We were doing good for awhile there, once a month up until June. Then it petered out, if you’ll pardon the expression. You know, the holidays, travel for work, all that stuff. I mean, I’m 35 not 65.”

“Well, I can’t help it when I’m out of town. What am I supposed to do, call up and give you phone sex? Play with myself in some strange dirty hotel room while you whip it out here in the kitchen?”

“That’s one idea.”

“Oh you’re sick. I’m not going to do that.”

“You don’t do a lot of things. Any more.”

1 2 OZ. VIAL OF GAMMA HYDROXYBUTYRIC ACID (GHB) WITH SYRINGE: $250.00

“Here’s your soda, Sariah. So how long have you been babysitting?”

“Well, you know I’m a junior at Jefferson High School, across the street.”

“Right. I sent your choir director, Mrs. Blanche, an e-mail, and she posted that notice on the job board. That’s how I found you.”

“And, well…I’ve been watching my younger brother and sister for as long as I can remember. All by myself for a couple of years now.”

“So you think you can handle the twins? It takes a lot of energy to keep up with them. They wear me out sometimes.”

“No problem. I’m in gymnastics, so I stay in shape. I like to jog, and like I said, I’m always chasing my brother and sister around, so it’s probably about the same.”

“So what do you do for discipline, how do you deal with the kids when they’re acting out?”

“Well, whatever you think is best…um, Jeff,” smiling, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I usually do time outs, and I definitely never hit them, or spank them. I don’t even like having to grab their arm or anything, um…unless they’re gonna run out into the street or something.”

“Okay. That sounds good. Is it okay with your mom and dad to babysit on a school night or only on the weekends? And do you have a curfew or anything?”

“Um…well, it’s just my mom. They divorced a couple of years ago. My dad lives up in Minnesota, and we see him on the weekends now and then. But mostly it’s my mom. She’s ok with it if I let her know where I am. I think maybe 11:00 on school nights, but I can probably say later, say 12:00 or 1:00 on the weekends.”

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“You used to offer me a lot of favors. Promises. If I did something for you, you’d give me a little extra special attention. Do you know how many IOU’s I have upstairs in my drawer?”

She laughs. “No Jeff, no idea. I’m guessing a lot.”

“I don’t even know myself. But that drawer is full of them. What good are they? Like you’d honor them. If I brought you one right now, would you help me out? Take care of me?”

“Jeff…I’m not in the mood right now. What…we’re fighting, so I’m just supposed to turn off my emotions and jump on you? I can’t do that.”

“Funny. You have no problem turning on the TV and laughing at some stupid show after a long day. No problem loading up a plate with Taco Bell or Arby’s, followed by strawberry ice cream.”

“Hey…that’s not the same thing. It doesn’t take any work to do that. And you’re not exactly in perfect shape yourself, are you.”

“No. I weigh 215 pounds. At 6’2” that’s maybe 15 pounds overweight. What do you weigh?”

“That’s none of your business,” her face at once stoic.

“I think it IS my business. You weigh 194, Susan.”

“What…you don’t know what you’re…where do you get that number, that’s absurd.”

“You know the high-tech scale we have, that you HAD to have? Not only gives you your weight, but your body mass index and all that? Well, when you step on the scale, it flashes the last weight for a second. I thought I’d lost a lot of weight. I was all excited. Until I realized it was you.”

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“Sounds great. Do you like to cook? Nothing fancy, you know Mac and Cheese, Hot Dogs, pasta, stuff like that. Can you handle a knife?”

“Oh sure, I love to cook. I do it all the time for my brother and sister. Mom has to work at nights sometimes, so I help out. I don’t mind. Grilled cheese, Chicken Noodle Soup, and I make a mean Rice-A-Roni,” she laughed, her blue eyes sparkling.

Jeff smiled, watching her body language for anything gone astray. “Awesome. Love it. Can you give the kids a bath? I’ll show you how to do it, it’s no big deal, but obviously you have to be careful, they could fall and hit their head, or drown, so you have to stay with them, be very attentive.”

“No problem. With my brother and…”

“…sister you do it all the time, right, I forgot.”

“That’s okay.”

“Well, you sound great, Sariah. Anybody that sings in the choir is ok with me. What are you, soprano or alto?”

“Alto. I just can’t hit those high notes, I guess.”

“I was a tenor myself, sang all the way through college.”

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Are you going to audition for any of the musicals this fall?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“You should, it’s lots of fun.”

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She stared at him, boring two eyes into his forehead. Her eyes glistened. “Well I don’t have time to exercise either I guess. I’m always tired, my job just wears me out. Besides, you have your movies, and the internet. Why don’t you just take care of it yourself?”

“I do. And frankly I’m sick of it. And it’s not just the sex, believe it or not. It’s the intimacy. I don’t feel like we ever connect. We’re practically brother and sister. We get up, get the kids fed and dressed, then its off to pre-school, and me to work. I work all day, pick up the kids, then home to dinner. Play with the kids, give them a bath, then some dumb TV and then bed. You’re either working out of the house, in the city, or out of town. We never have time for each other. And that’s not good. I can see this leading to a divorce when the kids are older. Or an affair. And that’s not what I want, any of it.”

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“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve got the job. I can’t show you the entire house, since the kids are sleeping, but I can give you a little tour. We want you to be comfortable here, we have TiVO, so you can watch whatever you want: MTV, VH1, HBO. You can eat whatever we have. There’s ice cream, frozen pizzas, fruit, bagels. If you want something special, let me know and I’ll pick it up the next time I’m at the grocery store.”

“Sounds great.”

“Here, let me show you the back yard.” Jeff opened the sliding glass door and screen revealing a nice size back yard with a large wooden swing set, a stone patio, and a garden next to the house. It was partially dug up at the moment. “Sorry about the mess here, we’re planting some bushes and I ran out of time. That big hole there is going to house three lavender bushes, if I can get it done tomorrow.”

“Nice yard. Much bigger then ours. I love to garden, I help my mom plant tulips every fall.”

“That’s sweet of you. We do the same out front.”

“Oh, here, come on. Let me show you the basement. We just got it finished. The kids love it down there. That way we can leave all of their toys out and not trip over them. It’s great.” Jeff headed back into the house. He opened the door to the basement. “Go on down, I’m right behind you.”

“Okay. Oh this is nice. When did you get it all done?” she said, as he closed the door behind them. The baby monitor buzzed on the counter, as one of the twins coughed and turned over.

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“Well why don’t you just go ahead and get a mistress then. You know the medication I take effects my libido, when I’m not exhausted from work. Maybe I’d should get off the Lexipro. Would you like me better like that?”

“Not really. You were impossible.”

“I don’t know what to say Jeff. I love you, but I just don’t know what to do.”

“Me either.”

“Would a hobby help? At least you wouldn’t be bored. I’ll talk to my doctor and see if he can prescribe something else. Maybe it isn’t just me.”

“Maybe. I think I have something in mind.“

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The phone rings five times and then goes to voicemail.

“Hi Mr. Thompson, this is Heather. I got your number from Mrs. Blanche, she said you were looking for a babysitter? I live near by, go to Jefferson of course, and I’m in the choir too, duh. I’d love to come by this week. I have varsity cheerleading practice Tuesday and Thursday, but other then that I’m free. Give me at call at 847-123-4857 and ask for Heather. Thanks, and have a great night.”



About Richard Thomas:
Richard was the winner of the ChiZine Publications 2009 “Enter the World of Filaria” contest. His short story “Maker of Flight” was chosen by Filaria author Brent Hayward and Bram Stoker Award-Winning editor Brett Alexander Savory. Publishing credits include Cemetery Dance (Shivers VI, late 2009), 3:AM Magazine, Word Riot, Dogmatika, Troubadour 21, The Oddville Press, Colored Chalk, Cause and Effect, Gold Dust, Vain, Nefarious Muse and Opium. He is a member of the Horror Writer's Association. Visit http://www.whatdoesnotkillme.com for more stories.
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©2009 Richard Thomas All Rights Reserved

2 comments
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  1. Great story. The cavalier tone is unnerving. There’s nothing worse than an unceremonious serial killer.

    Well done, Richard.

    -Pela

  2. Great story, LD.

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