The Opiate, Summer Vol. 6
The Argonauts Amy C. Berg
T
he children are at camp and the house is quiet. It had been Jason’s idea to send them off into the wilderness with their canteens and sleeping bags and insect repellent and sunscreen and comic books. Fresh air, Jason had said, fresh air and exercise are good for growing bodies. Maddy takes another sip of wine. She’s been staring out the window all afternoon, still dressed in the yellow linen gown she slept in last night. Her dark hair is greasy and sticking to her forehead in unflattering clumps. The day after they sent the kids to camp he told her he was leaving. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. What do you mean? she had asked. I’ll call you, he had said.
10.
****** Maddy was asleep when the phone rang. “Hello?” “Did I wake you?” “No, I was just cleaning the kitchen.” “Is now a good time? Should I call back?” “No, it’s okay.” She tried to sound upbeat. “Maybe we should meet for a drink.” “I don’t know,” she said. “Aren’t you coming home?” “We could meet at that café on 9th Street, the one with the green and yellow awning,” he
