NOVEMBER '04

Off Track
by David Gianatasio

In the Trunk
by Jay Wexler

Every Beautiful Thing
by Bonnie Ruberg

Vacation Planner
by Miriam M. Kotzin and
Bill Turner

Floating Inside
by Laurie Seidler

photo by Tanner Woodford

The travel folders lie on the coffee table, selling the azure and aqua sea, cloudless skies, beaches, perfect crescents of sparkling sand, the promise of privacy and elegantly informal perfect service in resorts whose every room offers non-paralleled views of mountains, gardens, or secluded lagoons.

And where everyone speaks English.

Darcy has a cold, and she is waiting for Richie to get back from the pharmacy and corner store with a fresh supply of cold tablets, aspirin, tissues and orange juice.

The front door flies open with the stiff October breeze sending the top brochure to the floor in a flapping maelstrom. Richie plows in on the heels of the wind, balancing two bags and a Burger Palace milkshake. "I'm home," he shouts.

"Yes," says Darcy. She is lying on the sofa, curled up under the blue and white Penn State blanket. She's wearing gray sweats and Richie's last birthday present to her, fuzzy slippers that moo when she walks. She told him that she loves them. She loves him.

"I got you a chocolate milkshake," he says, setting it down in front of her.

He has a fresh mustard stain on his tee shirt. "I couldn't find the regular aspirin, but I got the cold and flu stuff. The potato chips were on sale at two packs for the price of one."

He pulls a crushed box of tissue, already opened, out of the burger palace bag. "Sorry, but I had to use some of the tissue to clean my seat. Oh yeah, I left the Orange juice in the trunk. I'll be right back in." He rushes back outside, leaving the door open and the remaining brochures at the mercy of the wind.

Darcy makes a futile grab at one of the brochures that flies up near her, but lets it settle on the floor with the rest. A few of the heavier books remain on the table. She remarks resignedly on the aerodynamic quality of one brochure, which made it across the room where it slides under the television. She thinks that was the one she found especially promising.

"Thank you for getting dinner," she murmurs. She sneezes and looks frantically for the box of tissues, which are just out of her reach. She leans way forward and manages to grasp the box. The waxy container of milkshake is dribbling brown liquid on the folders that remain on the table.

"Wow, it sure is windy today. Good thing you got sick on the weekend. You wouldn't want to have to work in this weather. Anyway, there are good games on today."

Richie picks up a chocolate tainted brochure and rubs some off, tasting it from his finger. "Looking for the Christmas vacation spot again?" Richie thumbs open another page and smiles. "Is this what you had in mind?"

"Yes, I thought we'd try the Caribbean," she replies.

Richie looks pleased with her selection. "I didn't think you'd go for something like this," he says. "Deal me in."

"I didn't think you'd go for something all inclusive," Darcy says. "I thought it would make a nice change from what we're used to." She sighs and looks at her cow slippers. She wiggles her feet. "I hope you don't take offense at this, but I thought maybe our marriage was ready for a little, um, romance."

Under the television set rests Darcy's idea of romance. The brochure she refers to is filled with candlelight dinners and scheduled excursions to private beaches and spas. Richie is leering at mostly naked people doing all sorts of new and interesting things on private beaches and in private saunas.

"Well, it does look expensive," he says, "but our marriage is worth it."

"Oh, Richie." Darcy croons. "I'm so glad." She sneezes again, now she is holding the box of tissues in her lap. "Don't the beaches look beautiful? I can just imagine how it will be, the two of us in that warm blue water. Lying on the sand in the sun." She pauses. "Do you think there will be a full moon at Christmas? We could go out on the beach in the moonlight." She imagines music drifting from the resort pavilion, dancing on the sand.

Richie begins to contemplate her words. She always wants the light off in the room, now she wants a full moon. Whatever else the Caribbean may be, he thinks of it now as a slice of heaven. "Yeah, he says, I hope there is a full moon." He looks at Darcy, lying on the couch, and wonders if her fever has risen.

"What a cool Christmas," he says, wistfully staring at her.

"I hear they have special events for the holidays," Darcy says. "It won't be what we're used to, but I bet it will be fun. They are known for group activities. You won't mind, will you?" The closest Richie comes to group activities is when he hangs out with a couple of the guys near the grill during neighborhood barbeques. "It's a couples resort. No kids allowed."

Richie leans back and thinks for a moment. "You know," he says, "I like the idea of just you and I on a secluded moonlit beach. What will we need groups for? Let's keep it simple."

He's sure the group idea will go away when her fever goes down.

"The brochure says all inclusive, and the rooms that cost more come with extras. You can get things done right in the room. Can we swing that?" She imagines drinking pineapple juice on their balcony, palm fronds waving in the tropical breeze.

Richie now wonders if she needs to see a doctor. He can't imagine her condoning, much less offering, that sort of room service. He was fine with the private moonlit beach, but he's certain he doesn't want third party transactions in the room that he is paying for.

"Are you sure you feel all right?" He asks.

"I feel much better knowing that you want to do this," she replies.

Richie walks over to the couch and puts his hand on her forehead. "You don't look too feverish," he says. Darcy glances at the brochure he is holding and sees photos from "that place" that she had ruled out as too wild. She begins to turn red. Richie sees the change in her expression and takes an instinctual step back. Yes, he thinks, she's not feeling well at all.

"What are you doing with that?" She asks.

"It was here," he says, gesturing at the table.

"But I had it in the stack of no's," Darcy says, snuffling. "Let me show you the one I thought was perfect."

She realizes that the wind has mixed everything up. Some of the brochures are still on the rug near the coffee table. She picks up whatever she can reach near the sofa and rifles through the brochures. "It's not here!" She says.

Then Darcy spots the brochure under the television. She throws off the blanket and walks over to the TV, a soulful moo from her slippers at each step. She gets down on all fours and reaches under the TV, happily pulling out the brochure. Still on the floor, she looks up at her husband, and smiles. "This is what I had in mind, sweetie."

Richie takes the brochure from her and looks at the photos and captions as Darcy sits upright, cross-legged on the floor. Her sniffles match his sighs. He looks relieved and disappointed at each passing photo. On the one hand, he thinks, thank goodness the group business is out.

"Darcy, I really liked the moonlight idea," he says. "But I'm sure glad that this is the group activity you had in mind." He is staring at a photo of sunscreen-drenched people playing volleyball on the beach.

"Oh, Richie! You thought I wanted us to." Darcy started giggling. "And all this time you thought I was talking about." Her giggling continued while she pointed at the brochures on the table.

Richie sits down on the floor beside her, placing his arm around her. "For a minute there, I thought you needed to go to the hospital. Boy, that sure would've tainted my view of room service forever." They both begin to laugh.

"Well," he says, "I'm sure that your fries are cold. You want me to warm you up some soup?"

"Thanks, Richie. I'd appreciate that," she says. She pauses and adds, "I'd like to know what you'd have said if I'd told you that the resort rented really neat equipment."

Richie was standing. He held his hand down to Darcy to help her up. "I probably would have suggested that instead of going to the Caribbean we go skiing."

He pulls her to her feet, there's another moo. He says, "You always were a little wild."