The House With No Chairs
Natalie Louise Tombasco When first moving in together, the couple was too poor for chairs; not a plastic sofa, a fainting couch, or a stool could be found in the entire house. Ah, the house, it was charming, for sure—in a plain-yellow, sky-blue sort of way. But the windows were dark, the inside was childless, fishbowl- less—no Saint Bernard cleaning its paws. Just clutter: secondhand lamps, old books, some knickknacks to fill the space. They took a liking to standing; pinky promised to never sit again, for sitting was only an in-between state; a break in a straight line. Each morning began with standing at the kitchen sink, staring blankly into bowls of soft-boiled eggs. Each evening ended with lightly pressing themselves against the mattress which was strapped to the wall. There was a comfort in always being upright, a strength in their oath, a half-inch growth in their spines like oak trees with initials & angular hearts etched into the bark. When they had company, they told guests it was a B.Y.O.C. When his parents insisted on buying some chairs, any chairs he desired-- they said it would “mess with the feng shui.” They thought their feet were becoming flatter, rooted into the floorboards, but truthfully, some days he would close his eyes & feel himself drifting in the wind. She would saunter through the neighborhood with all her curvatures & hollowness, tired & sick of standing. She would walk somewhere between the empty porch & hysterical moon, then find her way back to him, watching the 10 o’clock news on mute. She’d turn on the shower and he’d imagine her cheating—her wilted body curled up near the drain, rubbing the tingle from her heels. On the other side of the wall, she imagined him, too. His timber thud into their cold bed, echoed: dead love, dead love--but in reality, they both had their backs to the wall, still standing. |
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About the Author: Natalie Louise Tombasco is a current MFA candidate at Butler University in Indianapolis, IN, where she is a reader for Booth: A Journal. She has been published in Poydras Review and the minnesota review. Tombasco is from Staten Island, NY.