Recapitulation: After having pissed off and alienated Jenna, Barry’s finally regained access to his apartment with Mr. Waller’s skeleton key. Now, clad in nothing more than an oversized tuxedo jacket, he prepares to confront his ersatz wife.
Nothing changed, at least since the last time he’d been in there. Everything had changed since Jenna made this place her home base. Newspapers everywhere in the kitchen, phone books now with stray black marks. The couch’s cushions had all been flipped and thrown off the couch, and there was now cereal in between the cushions, and on the couch, and on the coffee table, and on the television screen. He walked up to the dark screen and chiseled off dark brown lumps, coated with dried milk. The sticky ring they left in their path gave an impression of a chocolate octopus having been pried off. He couldn’t even see where the remote had gone.
Something struck him about the clock above the television. He looked down at his wristwatch, three thirty-two. Looked up at the clock, three twenty-one. Not only had she turned it away from ten minutes ahead, Jenna didn’t even time it to the exact right time, leaving it one minute slow. First thing he’d do would be to reset that clock, after he confronted Jenna. Wherever she’d gone.
The bedroom. He crashed into the bedroom with the furor of one whose ordered, orderly life had been turned upside down. Jenna was not there. Ragged black women’s clothing everywhere, clothing hanging from the dresser, clothing piled in the corner, clothing not his. Then, to say nothing of the shirts she’d tried on and left on the bed. His shirts. What the hell had she done last night? It was just like, it was just like she lived there.
He looked up at the bathroom. She had to be in there. He smashed his fist against the door. “Open up.”
“Go away, I’m busy.”
“Open the door now.”
“No.”
He’d no more patience. “Step away from the door. One, two, three, four, five.” He kicked the door in. Two seconds elapsed during his count. The door swung hard and slammed back shut, but for an instant he saw Jenna kneeling in front of the tub, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, washing something.
“What’s wrong with you?” She screamed at him through the door.
“Get out here now.”
Jenna exited, her hand holding Barry’s shirt closed in the front. He grabbed her by the wrist. “I don’t have time for kids’ play. Here’s what’s going to happen. I help you tomorrow, you give me that ring on your finger. I go bury it in the grave, we go our separate ways, no one has to hear about any of this. I tell everyone here that you’ve gone on a missionary trip, and you never come back.”
She smiled. “I can see your winky.”
He clasped the overlarge jacket shut. “You’re going to see a lot more if you don’t take this more serious.”
“You can’t tell me you’re not having fun. I’m having a blast.” She tilted her head downward, smiled up at him, batted her eyelashes. He wanted to lash her with a baseball bat.
“I’ll hit you.”
She started laughing. “No you won’t. Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why do you always say that when you’re not.” Now, her wrist still caught, she started laughing full on in his face.
“Stop it.” He raised his right hand back even further, but even to Barry, it was evident this motion was little more than empty threat.
Jenna had fallen to her knees, she was laughing so hard. “Let me go, let me go.”
“Why?”
“I’m, I’m wetting myself.”
Barry took a step back, saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Come on, let go, I wet myself from laughing earlier.” Now he could see a tiny trickle of urine spilling onto the carpet. He took a step back, letting her go. Still laughing, Jenna went back into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet. “Close the door?”
He closed the door. Wrong after wrong after wrong. At what point would it start going right? Barry changed into more legitimate clothing, hanging the jacket on a hanger, then hanging it from the bedroom door. In the living room, Barry pulled the clock off the wall, twisted the knob so that eleven minutes had spilled away into the ether, then twisted it another ten minutes. Anything to get her out of the door that much quicker.
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