Burbot
Published on November 8, 2009
As in:
Illiana thought she’d reached that point in her life where nothing really could surprise her. To be sure, there was a strong element of self-fulfillment in this realization. She really didn’t want to be surprised. Surprises, like the heart attack that took her second husband, were unwelcome. To the contrary, she felt, a mellowing life without surprises has its charms, like an old pair of warm slippers against the cold floor of every morning.
This all changed when Bethany, one of her young friends from sewing class turned her on to Facebook. Illiana was so intrigued that you could use this little machine to go sideways through the human inventory and find people she hadn’t seen or heard from in more than thirty years. “Oh my god!” she found herself exclaiming when she saw that Agnes Lemark’s once-jet hair had turned nearly white. Then, before taking the time to think it through, she invited Jess Flandin to friend her. He’d looked so much like Peter Lawson back in those days when she’d had a thing for him, and he had politely declined her interest to pursue that leggy bitch Colleen Vandenear. Oh well, perhaps it was time to forgive him. Maybe. But that still didn’t prepare her for the photograph of him wading through the California surf after a swim. Bald as a grapefruit and resembling nothing as much as a burbot. It was enough to cause her to spill her schnapps all over her cat.