Dominos

Dominos

Lissy was becoming increasingly concerned that her son was a nerd. The
alarm was most recently sounded by his plea to go to domino camp for
the summer. Lissy initially pictured the wrong kind of domino.

"You want to learn to make pizza?" she asked her son who stood planted
like a vine in front of her, hands on his hips. She resisted the urge
to gather up his limbs and kiss his flushed cheeks, knowing he'd squirm
away.

"Noooo Mom. Not that kind of domino!" he said, his voice cracking at
the peak of its range, "Do..m..i..nos -- the black blocks with white
dots. The ones that stand in a line and then knock each other
ooooverrrr!"

Lissy rubbed her chin as Charlie continued. It seemed that he had high
aspirations for an eight-year-old. That, after watching the TV special
"Domino Days", he had set his sites on making it onto the American
domino team. It tickled her to think that a domino team existed.

Lissy's grin was not catching, instead triggering a frenzied argument
from her son. Words spilled from his mouth in knots. Lissy untangled
what she could, catching references to "roller coaster" and "Roman
arena" -- things that Charlie had seen built out of dominos. His
intensity reminded Lissy of his father. Ethan's focus on a topic was
like an arrow aiming for the bulls eye, all other concerns be damned.
She swiftly pushed the image aside.

"Well Charlie," she said as he gulped some air, "you have plenty of
time to work on this uh, domino thing if you still want to do it in a
few years. This summer you are supposed to go to soccer camp. Remember?
That will be a lot of fun." Lissy pictured smiling boys running down a
green field with Charlie dribbling the ball, leading the way towards
the goal.

"Besides," she added, "domino camp is verrrry hard to get into."

Lissy felt a pinch of guilt over lying to her son about the entry
requirements at domino camp but reasoned it was for his own protection.
Charlie, however, failed to share his mother's insight and had
progressed into begging mode. He pled in a screeching tone that scraped
deep in her ears and shook her brain. Lissy knew what would happen if
she allowed Charlie to go to domino camp. The kids at school were
already tireless in mocking her son's skinny legs and his twisted front
teeth. He often came home in tears, his pretzels stolen at lunch or his
backpack unzipped from behind, releasing a trail of books down the
hallway. Add dominos to Charlie's list of easy targets and he'd be
riddled with abuse. Lissy knew that kind of ammunition would have
provided her and her pack of friends with endless rounds of taunting
when she was in school. She eyed the bubbling fish tank over Charlie's
hunched shoulder. She hated those fish. They became piranhas in her
mind, her son their prey. They snapped at the little domino-playing
Charlie again and again, tearing him to bits.

As Lissy pictured her son as fish bait, the real version in front of
her continued to whip his words into an undecipherable mixture.

Then he said, "Dad would let me go."

The mention of him sang out like a wrong note.

Lissy's face muscles constricted. She swallowed. Ethan's image was back
in her mind without an invitation. Her son had asked him in, throwing
open the door she'd struggled to bolt against him. She tried to push
the vision back out, but it's weight was too great. The door now open,
the pudgy picture of Evelyn, Ethan's girlfriend, entered easily,
sidling up to him, taking his hand. Lissy shut her eyes. The picture of
them remained, floating on the inside screen of her eyelids, as if by
slide projector.

Charlie studied his mother, his hysteria waning. Witnessing her
discomposure had proven more interesting.

"Well," he said, now a boy in control, "I'm going to ask him. He'll say
yes"

Lissy suspected he was right. Ethan would cheer her son on in this new
pursuit. Ethan was a nerd himself -- a chemist who spent long hours
camped in the basement of a laboratory. Beyond that, Lissy had trouble
understanding what he did. During their marriage, they rarely talked
about their careers. When she tried to ask about his, Ethan's shoulders
would rise towards his ears, and his jaw would clench, just as her
son's had when she had confused his dominos with pizza. Ethan reacted
as if explaining certain topics to her was physically painful. Lissy
always wound up feeling like a fool. So she had ceased to ask. And he
had never asked beyond, "how was your day?" about her work at Ralph
Lauren, as the entire world of fashion design were beneath him.

Lissy imagined Ethan's satisfaction when he spoke to Evelyn about his
work. Evelyn could ask the right questions, make insightful comments,
massage his intelligence. She understood what he did very well - she
worked next to him in the same lab.

Lissy rubbed her chin harder, feeling the beginnings of a stiff black
hair that reappeared every few weeks. It was a vile sign of growing
older.

She said "Let me think this over a bit, ok honey?"

Charlie relented with a whimper, exhausted from his efforts. He
channeled the remainder of his energy into marching to his room in the
loudest steps he could manage on the forgiving carpet.

Over the next few days, Lissy realized her battle would be uphill.
Charlie's room had morphed into a fortress of dominos. The black and
white blocks lined his room like an army troop, rigged so the miniature
soldiers fell in an endless topple when the door was opened. Lissy felt
they were preparing for combat against her.

She suspected Ethan was encouraging him. The two of them had purchased
the original dominos when Charlie was spending his weeks at Ethan's. As
per the terms of their separation agreement, Charlie shuttled from one
house to another every two weeks. On the designated Sundays, her son
would stumble out the door under the weight of his backpack and several
duffel bags stuffed with his life for the next seven days. Along with
those bags he carried Lissy's careful parenting decisions of the last
week-decisions that were unpacked and often discarded at Ethan's house.
She knew that her decision about domino camp was especially vulnerable
to being tossed in the trash.

When she helped her son unpack his belongings the Sunday of his return,
more dominos spilled out on the floor. Lissy didn't comment. She felt
for the chin hair and began to tug. These black blocks offended her.
They were signs of a whole life lived without her- the life Charlie
lived at Ethan's.

When she allowed herself to picture the scene at Ethan's home, a place
to which she'd never been invited, she could see only them - the three
of them -- building towering domino creations at the dining room table.
The scene was comical. Lissy had to laugh as she cried. She could see
Ethan steadily placing domino after domino in an elaborate design. She
missed the feel of those hands on her forehead, smoothing away her
fears. She missed the scent of his stale breath in the morning,
sniffing for it when she woke up. She remembered the heat that rose
from his chest, the way it felt to rest her head on the dense curly
hairs that lived there, how they reached for her face and nuzzled it so
she wanted to crawl inside. Did he miss the little things about her?
Did he ever notice them in the first place?

Lissy had been the indifferent one originally. She'd only agreed to go
out with Ethan as a favor for her friend Judy whose date insisted that
his brother come along. Lissy wasn't in need of dates. She received
plenty of attention from men. Her wavy long hair - and a body that
echoed its shape - magnetized men wherever she went. Judy, who was
usually the forgotten one beside her, claimed that Lissy owed her this
date. So Lissy agreed in the spirit of friendship. She crossed Ethan
off her list as soon as he appeared at her door, pale and squinting as
if he had forgotten his glasses. Later she found out that he had. She
climbed into the car with this man, whom she never would have glanced
at otherwise, and hoped he could see well enough to drive. His
conversation proved worse than his looks. Ethan spoke only in short,
obligatory replies to Lissy's questions. He leaned forward in his seat,
almost touching the windshield, trying to see the road as Lissy
struggled for fresh topics. His refusal to even glance at her for a
second was infuriating. She mentally swore at Judy.

At the dinner table, Ethan acted as if an internal match had been lit.
He led the conversation with Judy and his brother, his arms moving in
broad arcs as he discussed everything from scientific theories to
baseball. His eyes never met Lissy's, glazing over her if they even
turned in her direction. Lissy watched the scene as if behind a one-way
mirror. As her initial anger cooled, her fascination grew. By the time
the entrees arrived, Lissy had concluded that beneath his weakling
exterior was a passionate man, whose seriousness made him all the more
exciting. She found she was yearning for him to look at her, for him to
grow as animated about her as he was about science and sports. By
dessert, she was performing for him, willing him to see her. She
lowered her head so she could look up at him with her big, blue eyes.
She licked the soup off her spoon in what she imagined to be an
irresistible fashion. She laughed the laugh she'd been told was
adorable by other men in her life. But Ethan carried on his
conversation, ignoring her like one would a bothersome child. Lissy
went home that night feeling foolish and unattractive - and smitten.
She was thrilled when he called her for a date. And then another.

"I was intimidated by you," he later explained, "girls as pretty as you
have never paid attention to me. I figured it wasn't worth
trying."

He later professed his luck and surprise at having found a woman as
beautiful as she. Lissy basked in his admiration. She was gifting him
with her love and she enjoyed bestowing it, kissing his neck from
behind until he got goosebumps, surprising him with her boldness in
bed. She felt powerful.

And now he was living with Evelyn. Evelyn, a stocky flat-chested
chemist who looked her opposite. How could she ever have
suspected?

***
Ethan rang the doorbell, although he still had a key. He kept it on the
leather Coach pocketknife she'd bought for him. He'd smirked when he
opened it on his birthday two years ago. Lissy had immediately
regretted the purchase.

"So this is a keychain. Covered. In. leather." he'd said, his words
spaced and heavy as if the item were an archeological curiosity, "to
think that people need a keychain swathed in cow hide. Interesting." He
made a forced guttural sound, thinly disguised as a chuckle. Lissy had
wanted to shrink back into herself.

The doorbell sounded again, buzzing in her brain. It was another of
Ethan's lessons, saying, I ring the doorbell to indicate that I no
longer live here. I have another home across town with a woman who,
despite her boyish breasts and tendency to spit when speaking, is still
a better companion for me than you. We are no longer a couple. Don't
try to make us into one again.

Lissy smoothed her suede skirt. It was her favorite, paired with her
tall brown boots. The outfit made her feel complete- like the kind of
woman who can run a company, whip together a five-course meal, speak
three languages and look good while doing it. She'd taken half an hour
to choose the outfit this morning, all the while telling herself it was
not for Ethan's benefit.

She could hear the two of them chatting excitedly behind the door,
Ethan's outline visible threw the stained glass window at the top. As
she swung open the door, their mouths stopped moving, like little girls
caught gossiping. They stood hand in hand, Ethan's long fingers
writhing around her son's like a snake. His head sat, fishlike, atop a
turtleneck sweater that could only be called salmon-colored. The
sweater was new. Lissy would never have chosen it for him when she was
responsible for his wardrobe. She found solace in Evelyn's horrendous
taste in clothing.

"Hiii honey!" she said, directing her eyes only towards her child.
Ethan was like the sun, if she looked directly at him, she would be
singed.

"Mom, guess what?" he said, skipping a greeting for his mother, "Dad
said I could go to domino camp this summer and if Dad says it, that
means I can. He's my parent too!" he cried, as if this were a new
discovery.

"Really sweetie?" she said, willing her mouth into a straight line,
hoping her eyes weren't broadcasting her true feelings, "Why don't you
go drop your stuff off in your room and then come back down to the
table. We're having mac and cheese".

She reached out and brushed his face as he zipped past her, desperate
to touch her son after a week without him. When she heard his steps
upstairs, she turned her head back to Ethan, thankful for a reason to
keep him here in front of her, just steps away from reentering her
life.

"Hello Ethan," she began, determined to make this conversation one that
wouldn't stain another pillow with wet mascara. Ethan's lily pad eyes
looked through her like she was made of glass. He had always looked at
her sister that way, the one who preferred traveling the country in a
van to getting a real job. She was now classified in that group - a
nonentity in his eyes. His eyes had withering-inducing powers.

"Hello," he said, his gaze still somewhere beyond her, "I've brought
registration forms for domino camp. Charlie's chosen to go there this
summer."

His cold address shot at her, threatening to knock down her
carefully-constructed walls. Her messy, pulsing emotions were about to
be left exposed and vulnerable. She fought to conceal them, channeling
her tears into anger. But the feeling was already flattening her, like
a rolling pin breaking down her walls of reserve, reducing her to
dough.

"Dominos?" she said, "Really, Ethan, how can you seriously consider
letting him go? He's already signed up for soccer camp. And, it's
&;#8230;well, it's just so stupid."

"Stupid?" he said, as if the word were new to him, "I'm not sure why
you would say that."

"They're just building blocks, Ethan" she said. She has always loved
saying his name, throwing it into conversation as much as possible. It
was a poetic name, a name that felt right on the tongue. "Our son needs
to be social at this point in his life. How will he ever make friends
playing with dominos?"

"Dominos have a lot to offer our son in terms of history and more," he
said. Lissy recognized the tone. He was burrowing into the vast plains
of his intelligence, searching for the appropriate lecture.

He said, "Dominos date back to 1120 A.D. They were invented by the
Chinese. In fact&;#8230;" Ethan continued in his trademark slow
tones, the ones she used to find so calming, and now found so
infuriating, insulting. Lissy felt her son's age when Ethan spoke this
way, like an unwilling student. She took advantage of his pause for
breath to speak.

"He's not going Ethan, I've already told him. He's going to soccer
camp." She clung to the image of a soccer ball, as if only that could
save her. She wanted to punt that soccer ball in his face.

"Listen, Alyssa" he spat out her full name as if it tasted sour,
dropping the professorial approach "cancel the damn soccer registration
"

A building pressure climbed from her throat to her head and threatened
to burst. Don't you dare cry, she told herself.

Ethan continued as if the matter was settled, "So, I'm going to pick up
the fish tank now. I'll wait here." That lesson again.

The aquarium was the last item that needed to be turned over since
their separation last fall. Her husband had funneled his tenderness
into these ugly creatures who seemed to soak up any capacity for
affection he had. Suddenly, she wanted to cling to them.

"Charlie cares about those fish," she said.

"Yes, and he can enjoy them at our place now." Our place. Two words
like knives.

"Well, thank God. I'll be happy to get them out of here" she said,
leaving Ethan on the doorstep.

"Don't forget to turn on the battery-operated air pump," he called
after her. Lissy fumbled her way through a curtain of tears.

She tugged at the cords that kept the tank operating, disconnecting
them from the wall. Filter, pumps. Lissy didn't know the difference.
She didn't care. The tank smelled -- a mixture of algae, fish flakes
and old water. It splashed her as she picked up the tank and she
cursed. She hadn't cleaned it in weeks. Walking towards the door, the
fish rocked from one side to another, getting a taste of the ocean
waves they would never experience.

"So", she said, "here are your precious fish. How could you have gone
on without them?" She hated the sound of her voice, so bitter, so
female, so typical.

"Thank you," he said, registering no reaction to her tone. Ethan's
protective walls were far more sturdy than hers. Indestructible, maybe.
Lissy held her arms out to hand him the tank. And then, she watched in
slow motion as her arms moved out from underneath and allowed the tank
to hurtle towards the cement. The sound of the crash was satisfying,
freeing. Glass shards flew, raining on the doormat, the cement, their
feet. A pregnant brownish gray fish landed on Ethan's pants cuff and
began to gasp. It looked like a twisted murder scene. But Lissy felt
like laughing. Ethan looked at her in utter shock before gingerly
picking up the fish and rushing into the kitchen for some water. The
lives of his fish was enough to make him enter this house. Finally, a
reaction from him.

She turned to hear scuffling on the stairs and saw a flash of color
flying to the kitchen. She followed Charlie but stopped at the kitchen
doorway, suddenly ashamed. She reached for her chin hair but it was
gone, plucked it before Ethan's arrival.

Charlie spun around to glare at his mother.

"You killed him!" he screeched, "you killed Zipper. I saw you!" Lissy
had never known the fish's name. Hearing it, Zipper, sank her deeper
into her role as criminal.

"This is disgusting behavior, Alyssa, and in front of your son!," Ethan
said to her as he brushed by, her son close behind. The two of them,
the team, carried the fish to its final resting place in the toilet and
said goodbye with a ceremonial flush. Lissy stared down at the old blue
carpet, biting the extra skin on her lip.

***

That night Charlie refused to come down for dinner. Lissy piled the
runny meal on a plate and carried it upstairs. She reached for the
doorknob but then paused, choosing to respect the "Do not Disturb" sign
scrawled in red crayon that hang on the door.

"Charlie honey?" she called. Her voice came out high and weak. She felt
like a suitor on a first date.

"I have dinner here. Aren't you hungry?" she tried. She heard scuffling
inside but no answer.

"Hon, I'm really sorry about what happened to Zipper today. Mom made a
big mistake. It was an accident. We can get you some new fish tomorrow.
I'm going to come in now, ok?"

"Don't come innnnnnaaaa!" her son yelled from inside. Lissy gripped the
door handle.

"Charlie, sweetie, please let me in. Let's talk." She pushed the door
open, and it was too late. As domino 1 began its fall, the inevitable
happened.

The domino whacked the back of the soldier in front of him and the
troop was in motion. The room erupted in a clatter of domino shouts.
When the last soldier had fallen, Lissy spoke.

"Charlie, we'll sign you up for domino camp tomorrow" she said.

The End