I counted telephone poles and the seconds between them. The old highway cut straight through the sand and it seemed the road would never end. No curves. No hills. Just poles.
I'm not sure when she changed. After kids, I suppose. She didn't smile very often, joked even less. I looked over to watch her drive. Not even a blink. Just a stare, dry like the desert, untouchable like a cactus. I wanted to say something, but I knew she only wanted to drive, to hide behind the wheel, an excuse to concentrate, a reason to focus on something other than me. Maybe I had changed, too. I went back to the poles.
She once asked me to keep her young. “There's not much I can do about aging,” I said. So she asked me to keep her youthful. “That, I can try.”
I remember days in the park or the grocery, it didn't matter, everyone we saw was someone else. We spent hours making up stories about people, who they really were, what their lives were like. She got the idea from a Simon and Garfunkel song. “See that woman over there,” she said in the checkout line. “She's having an affair with her tango instructor. Her husband knows it, too. But he's sleeping with his secretary.” She looked at me, and waited to see what I would say.
“Do you think they know?” I asked.
“Know what?”
“Do you think they know that her tango instructor is married to his secretary?”
She kissed me, right there in the checkout line, for a long time. And that's how it started. That's how everyone we saw became someone else.
I tired of the poles and wanted to turn on the radio, but I figured no stations were in reach. I also figured she would turn it off if I found one. I wanted to talk, or break something.
I must have dozed off because I don't remember stopping. I woke to an empty car, still running, her door open. I jumped out, looked around, and found her standing in the sand some ways away. I walked to where she was, but let her speak first. She stood in front of a cactus, prickly in bloom.
“They're spies,” she said.
I waited.
“They're spies from another planet, sent here to watch us. See those flowers,” she said. “Those flowers aren't really flowers.”
It was my turn. “No, they're not. They're communication devices used to send information back to their home planet. Information they gather throughout the year.”
“Yes,” she said. “That's what they are. Communication devices.”
I wanted to ask where she had gone, but instead I kissed her for a long time.
23
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Published at http://rkvryquarterly.com/cactus-by-foster-trecost/
Wonderful. Human. Wonderfully human. Don't stop.
really lovely.
Fave. Man, Foster, this is a really good piece.
Perfecxt beginning. Perfect middle. Perfect end.
Perfect!
*
Real nice, Fos!
Good work, Foster. Great opening. I like.
Much depth in simple detail. A lovely piece.
I just love the hell out of this, all of it.
Love the layers in this story, Fos. Nice work!
Fave.
Glad I can bounce this one over the top, Fos. Nice*
Love the honesty here, in every line, the vividness of this story:
"I wanted to talk, or break something."
Now that is juicy writing!!!
Terrific story with a really nice ending line.
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There's not one single line in this that knocks me out or makes me think ahhhhh. The piece is subtle and I like that. I like it just the way it is. You've formed it well and so does it work well. Good one.
Foster, this is wonderful. Every word, every line. So tense and tight and yet totally open. "I wanted to ask her where she had gone, but instead . . ."*
Lovely story, Foster.
*
I loved this story. How it started and how it ended. It all came together so well. The opening with the telephone poles, wonderful. *
This is nails. Love the tension, the realness.
What an amazing story. I love their courage in the desert; most of all I love the flower(s) they find. *
Great stuff, Foster. *
very well done.
lovely, keep counting those poles.
Oh God. This crushed me. It's so real and heartbreaking. The end is cinematic, perfect and well FAVE.
I understood these people, related to them. I couldn't first imagine where the counting telephone poles were taking me. It brought me well into a place of understanding, a place I wish to be. Not saying the wrong things... The ending was the perfect amount of hope.
Excellent story, well crafted, perfect ending. *
This is lovely throughout -- I'm glad I stumbled on it. As has been said before, the ending is perfect.
Exquisite. *
Just came upon this in 2023. LIke it.