Proposal by Meg Pokrass
When Johan proposes, I’m out in the yard, taking a walk. That is, walking around my fenced-in yard, and thinking about my situation, not about Johan, and not about getting remarried.
That is when Johan shuffles from the house barefoot and shirtless, sinks to his knees.
I worry about him staining his khakis kneeling like a choir boy on the wet grass. Oil stains, tomato sauce, ink… He can’t care for a pair of pants. Can’t hold a job. Thinking about his lack of employment gives me a headache, one that lingers over my right eye. I’m not employable either, that is, my eyes twitch uncontrollably in job interviews.
My ex-husband was a workhorse, never lost a job. Kept his pants real nice. Had a Grecian nose.
The woman my husband left me for has one arm and a piggish squashed-in nose.
I have two arms, and my nose is terrific.
I can feel my stomach bubble up like a pot of lentils. Johan is looking at me with a smile that stretches around his smile lines. He has a rat-like face, an absurdly pointed nose. I’ve never minded rats. They are very intelligent animals. My best friend, Mancy, has two rats. One of them, a female blue, snuggles into my pocket. The pee dries and there is little to no smell. Rat pee is harmless.
“You and I should get married,” Johan says.
His face looks bloodless. The flowers on one side of my yard are wilting, the Lavatera is dry.
“No, wait,” I say. “God, this is sudden.”
I grab his cold, clammy hand. His small hand that looks like a child’s hand. A hand whose size matches his penis size, which does not bother me. In fact I prefer men with compact penises.
“Lice,” he says. “Otherwise I would kiss you.”
Johan has lice from a hat he bought at the Salvation Army.
“Probably,” I say.
“Probably…. what?”
“I will probably marry you.”
If I were to start smoking again – this would be the moment.
“Well, think about it,” Johan says. He sticks his index finger on the bulls-eye center of his forehead, as though pointing at it with a loaded gun. It makes a red mark. I can tell he is hoping not to jinx this.
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Meg Pokrass is an editor for Smokelong Quarterly and her writing appears in Gigantic, Gargoyle, Wigleaf, Annalemma, among others. One of Meg’s stories was selected for Wigleaf’s Top 50 Flash Fiction 2009, and recently again, two stories in Wigleaf’s short longlist 2010. Meg has been nominated for Best of the Web and the Pushcart Prize. Her new collection of flash fiction, Damn Sure Right by Press 53 comes out in 2011. Meg loves lobsters and lives with her creative family and seven animals in San Francisco.
© 2010, Metazen. All rights reserved.
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