Chuck Palahniuk - Phoenix

On Monday night, Rachel calls long-distance from a motel in Orlando. Listening to the phone ring on the other end of the line, she picks up the remote control and clicks through television stations with the sound muted. She counts fifteen rings. Sixteen. Ted answers on the twenty-sixth ring, out of breath, and she asks him to pass the receiver to their daughter.

Ill go get her, Ted says, but I cant promise any miracles.

Theres a clunk as he sets the phone on the kitchen counter, and over the line Rachel can hear his voice get louder and fainter as he roves around the house, shouting, April, honey? Come talk to Mommy! She hears the squeak of the spring on the screen door. Teds footsteps appear and disappear as he moves from the wooden floor of the hallway to the carpeted stairs.

Rachel waits. She sits on the bed. The rooms rug and drapes smell vaguely like a vintage clothing store: a lot of mildewed fabric, a little stale sweat and cigarette smoke. Its rare that she has to travel with her job; this is the first such trip since April was born three years ago. She clicks through silent football games and music videos without music.

* * *

The house where they live now isnt their first. Where they lived before, it had burned to the ground, but the fire was nobodys fault. That much was proven in a court of law. It had been a fabulous freak accident, written up in the annals of homeowners insurance history. Theyd lost everything they owned, and then their daughter had been born blind. April was blind, but things couldve turned out worse. That first house had been Teds before theyd even met. Glass block had filled a wall of the dining room, casting a grid like a net over the black-lacquered table and chairs. When you flipped a switch, gas flames danced magically on a bed of crushed granite in the living room fireplace. The bathtubs, toilets, and sinks were black porcelain. Vertical blinds dangled in the windows. Nothing was earth-toned or wood-grained.

But itd suited Ted, the house had. He owned a cat hed named Belinda Carlisle and let drink from the black bidets. It was a long-haired sable Burmese, like a bubble of black hair. Ted loved Belinda Carlisle, but he knew enough not to let her get too close. The cat looked clean until you touched her; after that youd both be covered in greasy dander. To deal with Belindas shedding, Ted had one of those robot vacuum cleaners that scoured the floors all day. At least that was the idea. More than once the two had joined forces: The cat had diarrhea, and the robot scooted through it, crossing and crisscrossing the puddle all day, spreading it to every square inch of the black carpet.

When theyd been married almost a year, Rachel had announced that they needed to move. She was pregnant and didnt want to bring a newborn into this world of filthy rugs and open flames. Theyd have to sell the house and give up Belinda Carlisle. Even Ted had to admit the place stunk like a cat box, no matter how often they changed the litter or cleaned the rugs, and you couldnt be pregnant around a cat box. Over dinner, she explained toxoplasmosis. It was caused by the protozoan parasite Toxoplasma gondii and lived in the intestines of cats. It spread by laying its eggs in cat feces and could kill or blind infants.

She was used to explaining the issues to Ted. She knew hed never be brilliant. That was his chief charm. He was loyal and even-tempered, and Ted was a hard worker if you stayed on top of him and told him what to do. Shed married him for all the reasons she might hire a long-term employee.

Shed spoken slowly, between bites of spaghetti. The only way to mask the smell of cat was to add cilantro to everything. After her speech, Ted sat across the table, the shadows from the glass blocks making a contour map of his face and white shirt. She could hear the bubbles in his mineral water. It didnt matter what Ted cooked; nothing looked appetizing against his black-glazed china. He blinked. He asked, What are you saying?

Slower this time, Rachel said, We have to find a new house.

No, said Ted, drawing out the word as if playing for time. Before that.

Rachel wasnt annoyed. Shed rehearsed this for days. She couldve paced it better. It was a lot to spring on him all at once. I said we need to list this house.

Ted closed his eyes and shook his head. His brow furrowed, he prompted, Before that.

The part about Belinda Carlisle? Rachel asked.

Before that, Ted coaxed.

It worried Rachel to think that Ted wasnt stupidthat, instead, he just never listened to anything she said. She rewound their conversation in her mind. Do you mean the part about being pregnant?

Youre pregnant? Ted asked. He put his black napkin to his lips. To wipe them or hide them, Rachel couldnt tell.

* * *

Its still Monday night in Orlando, Rachel is still waiting on the phone. She peels the bedspread down and stretches out to watch the Home Shopping Channel. What she loves most about HSC is that it doesnt have commercials. Diamond cocktail rings rotate in slow motion, glittering under halogen lights and magnified to one hundred times their actual size. The pitchman always speaks with a down-home drawl and always sounds so excited when he says, Youd better hurryn order, folks, we dont got moren a couple thousand of these ruby tiaras left Emerald solitaires sell for the same price as a jar of cashews from the minibar.

With the TV on mute, over the phone she can hear the neighbors dog barking. The barking disappears as if muffled by something. As if Aprils put the receiver to her ear. Holding her breath to hear better, Rachel says, Sweetheart? Boo-Boo? How are you and Daddy getting along without Mommy? She talks until she feels like an idiot babbling to herself in an empty motel room.

This silence, Rachel suspects, is retribution. The night before her flight, shed noticed her teeth looked yellow. Too much coffee. After dinner shed prepared the bleaching trays and let April examine them. Rachel had explained how tightly they fit: Mommy couldnt answer any questions for at least an hour once the trays were on her teeth. Mommy couldnt talk at all. If April needed something, shed need to ask her father. No sooner than Rachel had squirted the expensive bleaching gel into each tray and snapped it into her mouth, April was already tugging at her and asking for a bedtime story.

Ted wasnt any help. April went to bed in tears, and Rachels teeth still looked like hell.

From the sounds that come through the wall, the guests in the next motel room are full-fledged screwing. Rachel cups one hand around the receiver and hopes her daughter wont overhear. She worries that the line has been disconnected, and keeps asking, April? Sweetheart, can you hear Mommy? Resigned, Rachel asks the girl to hand the telephone back to her father. Teds voice comes on.

Dont stew about it, he says. Shes just giving you the silent treatment. His voice muffled, his mouth pointed somewhere else, he says, Youre just upset that Mommys gone, arent you? A measure of dead air follows. Rachel can hear the carnival music and silly voices of a cartoon playing in the living room. Its not lost on her that she mostly listens to television with no sound while her daughter watches without visuals.

Still directed elsewhere, Teds voice asks, You still love Mommy, dont you?

Another beat of silence follows. Rachel hears nothing until Ted begins to placate: No, Mommy doesnt love her job more than she loves you. He doesnt sound very convincing. After a pause, he scolds, Dont say that, missy! Never say that! From the tone of his voice, Rachel braces herself for the sound of a slap. She wants to hear a slap. It doesnt come. Clear, speaking directly into the receiver, Ted says, What can I say? Our kid can really hold a grudge.

Rachels thrilled. The last thing she wants her daughter to be is a sop like Ted, but she keeps those words in her mouth. Thats Mondays phone call, done.