The Fly

The couple lay in bed, snuggled and cozy, enjoying the DVD they had chosen. It was something from the collection. Rarely did something from the collection make it onto the television these days. Usually it was the latest Netflix delivery, or the impulsive Blockbuster rental. Maybe it was the new place. They had only just moved in. Boxes were still piled high in the living room. Most of the furniture hadn’t quite migrated out of the garage yet. The DVD player and TV sat atop a card table. It felt like camping. Watching anything in this nascent home felt cutting edge, like a first time novelty.

It was at the peak of their enjoyment when the fly landed on the TV screen. It landed right on John Cleese’s face. It must have been half of James’ existence ago since he’d seen Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. His wife, Shana, was already falling asleep. James didn’t take it personally. He couldn’t anymore. Shana only made it through about 2 out of every 10 films that commenced after nine in the evening, and though it always evoked James to shake his head, he had gotten used to it.

The fly flew away and James forgot about it for a few moments until it returned again – crawling around on Eric Idle’s nose before buzzing off once more.

Flies never bothered James. Shana couldn’t stand them. If she were awake right now, James thought, she would make me go after it. She’d tell me to get the Newsweek with Sarah Palin on the cover and tell me to go try to whack the little S.O.B. even though flies are, 90% of the time, WAY too fast for humans to swat them without proper equipment.

“What’s that?” It was Shana.

“What?” said James.

“There’s a fly on the TV.”

“So what? You’re not even watching it. You were fast asleep two seconds ago!”

Shana was on her feet. Before James could inhale the lights were on. Shana’s steely eyes followed the fly as it detached from the TV face and proceeded to buzz around the room, stealing in and out of the couple’s field of vision.

“I hate flies!” Shana stammered.

James rolled over. “Go back to bed, Shana. It’s just a fly. It’s not bothering anybody.”

“I can’t stand flies…” There was no persuading her. “Get it, James.”

“You get it!” James protested. “You’re the one who cares! It’s not bothering me at all!”

Shana grabbed the Newsweek with Sarah Palin on the cover and rolled it tight in her hands.

“What are you doing, Shana? I haven’t even read that yet.”

“Shhh!!!” Shana was upon it… she lunged, but the fly flew away. Shana’s eyes followed the fly, which was well out of arm’s reach. She did that for about a minute.

“C’mon, Shana. I was watching a movie!”

“Get the dustbuster.”

“The dustbuster doesn’t work, Shana. The fly just flies away when I get close. We need a flyswatter. Or flypaper, I guess.”

“I hate flies!”

Shana really hated flies. Otherwise, she was tolerant toward most animals. It was really bizarre. James couldn’t figure her out. He’d been warned by every married man he knew that wives made no sense.

The fly landed on the television. BAM! For a split-second the picture fuzzed out completely at Sarah Palin’s wrath. James had never seen the TV do that before.

“What the FUCK!!!” James yelled.

“I HATE flies!” Shana gritted her teeth.

“You’re gonna break the fuckin TV, Shana! Are you crazy!”

“DO SOMETHING, JAMES!”

Is this what marriage was? James wondered. Is she really upset? Or is this like pledging that fraternity, back in college? Maybe she’s just testing me, to see what kind of a husband I am. James decided he would show her. He lept up from the bed, grabbing the Newsweek out of his wife’s hands.

“Just relax!!!” James said as calmly as he could, which wasn’t very much.

James followed the fly as best he could. But his eyes blurred. He didn’t care. He just didn’t damn well care about the fly. His heart wasn’t in it. He swatted, his arms flailing, nearly missing and nearly missing again. Maybe it looked impressive to Shana, he thought. Wives, he had been told, simply like effort, even if results aren’t always achieved. The effort is romantic to them on some deep level. Whatever, fuck that. James was in no mood to score romance points. He wanted to watch his fucking movie and laugh every time the Monty Pythons mentioned the machine that goes ‘ping!’

The couple of near-hits only drove the nail further in James’ coffin. No “well done, good try, you can go watch your movie now” from Shana. Instead her resolve had only strengthened. “You nearly got it! Almost! Wait – let it land again!”

James admittedly felt a little encouraged. But mostly he still wanted to watch his movie. He swatted and swatted, but the fly kept landing on things undeserved of full attack. If it wasn’t the TV screen it was a glass lightbulb. If it wasn’t a fragile lightbulb it was the fresh coat of paint James had meticulously applied just a couple of days earlier. If it wasn’t the sparkling paint it was the DVD player – the TV had already used up a life; damn James if he would allow the DVD player to suffer the same.

James let the Newsweek fall on the bed, his shoulders sagging. He tried to act like he was crying. “I just want to watch the movie and go to bed. I’m sooooo tired, Shana. Please. The fly isn’t bothering anyone. It’s all in your mind. If you shut the lights off and not watch the movie like you always do you won’t even see it.”

“I’ll hear it.”

James hung his head. “Not if I turn the volume up loud on the TV.”

“How is that supposed to help? Then I won’t be able to sleep, James.”

Shana scooped the magazine back up into her determined hands.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping! You should be watching the movie like you set out to do earlier! You ALWAYS fall asleep at movies! That’s your problem, Shana!”

“The fly will land on the TV and I’ll see it. The TV is the only light source. You have to kill it, James. There’s no other option.”

“The light!” James had an idea. “Shut off the TV!”

Shana did. The room flooded with darkness.

The light in the hall turned on by James’ hand and the fly was soon buzzing around it.

Another light clicked on in the foyer.

“Turn that one off!” It was Shana. James did as instructed. As darkness overtook him, the fly appeared near Shana. She opened the front door, flipping on the outside light, turning off the one by her… and the fly followed.

SLAM.

The door shut. The house was quiet. For the first time since the ordeal began, absolutely no buzzing could be heard whatsoever.

Shana beamed, “We didn’t even have to kill it!”

James couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Shana slinked over to him, wrapping her arms around him, staring her man in the eyes. Hers were full of so much love all of a sudden it was intoxicating. As she leaned in to kiss James he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the Newsweek in Shana’s fingers. I wonder what Todd Palin would’ve done? James wondered.