She noticed a clear mark on her husband’s left ring finger when he reached for his glass of water. The pale line stood out against his sunburned hand, and its shape indicated a wedding ring mark. The woman paused with her fork, realizing that her husband, Mark, hadn’t worn his wedding ring for twelve years. She asked him about it while he was still chewing. He looked at her and then at his hand, going still for a moment before he laughed and said it must be from holding the fishing rod during his trip.
He explained that the sun doesn’t hit the part of the hand holding the fishing rod, and then he complimented her cooking, shifting the conversation. She didn’t press him further but felt uneasy. Married to Mark for twenty-six years, she knew his expressions well. However, the look he gave her at that moment, frozen and surprised, made her think he was hiding something.
Mark had taken the same fishing trip every summer for nine years with three friends: Dave, his long-time co-worker; Ray, who was always talking and laughing; and Tommy, who had been his best man. They visited Loon Lake, three hours away, where the thick pine trees made the roads dark, even during the day. Their routine included staying at the same cheap motel with poor phone reception for three days each August.
After every trip, Mark would return sunburned, smelling of insect repellent and lake water, with a cooler full of fish that no one wanted to clean. He would tell her stories, kiss her, and bring her a jar of wild blueberry jam, remembering her favorite from a comment she made nine years ago. But this year was different. He came home on Sunday at seven-thirty, hugged her quickly with one arm, and went straight upstairs without stopping.
She called after him to ask how the trip went, and he said it was good but that he was exhausted and needed a shower. When she inquired about Ray falling out of the boat, he hesitated before admitting it happened twice, but without any laughter. At dinner, he was quiet. She asked about the fishing and Tommy’s knee, but his answers were brief. When she asked if they went to the diner for pie, his response changed from yes to no, and then he claimed he couldn’t remember because it was all a blur. As he reached for his glass again, she observed him closely. That night, as he slept, she listened to him breathe. Mark usually fell asleep quickly, which she found frustrating at times, but this night felt different.
What do you think she should do next?
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Source: Teknonoktasi, by admin