Draper’s Dead Body [minutelovestory #115]

Posted by on Nov 18, 2014 in minutelovestories | No Comments

Lately he’s taken to carrying paperbacks with us on errands. The other afternoon in front of the swap shop, he pulled a copy of Stephen King’s “Bag of Bones” out from underneath his seat and folded it back onto itself, the spine having acquiesced some time ago. It’s been hot this week, so he puts the windows down and from the motion-sensored sliding doors, I can see his pale right arm dangling over the dent on the passenger’s side, like one of those fake jokey appendages flopping about from your locked trunk, meant to convince fellow drivers you’ve got a dead body stowed away in a manner defiantly sloppy. You’ve left it alone like a fool, with inept haste, believing you’ve actually succeeded in secrecy.

Two nights ago, Anthony sat at the kitchen table, his elbows on the spotty lacquer we’d paid a West side refinisher to make sophisticated and gleaming, a part of my Hollywood Regency phase when I had a brass and glass vanity in the bedroom and a Dorothy Draper chest in the reliably vacant guest room. Drinking diet soda and eating sugar cookies right out of the bag, he invited me to join in.