Batman Socks and the Gosh Dang Flippin’
Problem of Existence
Sugarhouse, UT
Emily sat in the living room folding a pair of Neph’s black-and-blue socks. She watched KSL as she did so, barely looking at the socks she was folding as the reporter announced how more cracks had been found in the Yellowstone area. Fissures had opened up in the earth causing a small amount of magma to ooze out onto the surface. A small crater formed in the area, and small steam plumes now spewed tiny amounts of volcanic material and noxious gas into the air. The color code threat had moved from yellow to orange, whatever that meant.
It was 3:30. Mark would be home in two hours. She thought about how to bring up the issue of going to Zachariah’s wedding. She could force the issue, sure, make him watch the kids, it wouldn’t be hard. Mark was not a domineering man. But what she dreaded more than his anger was his resigned apathy, the passive-aggressiveness of his yes. Yet, she had often denied herself similar opportunities, evenings with girlfriends, lunch dates, and the like for the good of her family, to be a loving wife and mother. What was the line between caring for her family and her own care of self?
Once she was finished folding the laundry, she walked upstairs to put the kids’ clothes away. Her phone rang on the way up the stairs. Wendy.
She thought about not answering but decided what the heck. She picked up when she was at the top of the stairs.
“Hi, Wendy,” she said, feeling out of breath.
“Hiiiiiiiii, Emily. It’s been too long.”
“Yes, yes it has.” Emily gripped the phone with her right hand and the laundry basket with her left as she walked into Neph’s bedroom. Wendy’s voice was sweet, saccharine.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh, you know, just, folding Batman socks.”
Emily sat down on Neph’s bed.
“Ha! I know how that goes. Eric is currently into Spider Man. He has a Spider Man backpack, Spider Man underwear, and Spider Man socks. Thank God Jessica likes Wonder Woman. Tell you the truth, I can’t believe this whole comic book thing is still a trend, I thought it would have died out years ago.”
Emily chuckled but it was softer than it should have been, caught off-guard by Wendy’s call and conflicted about talking to Wendy, so Emily injected a strong dose of enthusiasm into her voice for the next question.
“How are you?”
“Oh, I’m surviving, it’s been a rough couple months, if I’m being honest. But I know Heavenly Father has a plan. How are you?”
“Oh, fine, just busy, you know.”
“Yes, you always did manage to keep up the good work. Choose the right. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Well, listen, it’s been a while, and I wanted to see if you and Mark and the kids would want to come over for dinner soon?”
Emily froze. She was not expecting such an invitation. She was expecting small talk and perhaps a play date.
“Well, um, yeah, let me see. I’ll talk to Mark. Our schedule’s a little crazy around here, you know.”
“Yes, of course, but it’s not a big deal, right, just dinner?”
An unusual statement, Emily thought. Not a big deal? Did she know that it was in fact, a BIG deal?
“No, no of course not, I just . . .”
“Emily.”
The tenor of Wendy’s voice suddenly changed. The whimsy, informal nature turned into a voice of gravity, urgency, and strength.
“I know we’re not the best of friends–”
“Oh, that’s not true,” interrupted Emily.
“Please, Emily, I don’t need you to be nice to me right now.”
Emily was again taken aback.
“You must have heard something, right? Did Mark say anything to you?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, he said, he said, for me to, well, this is embarrassing to talk to you to about, to be honest . . . to put some distance between us.”
“Distance? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”
“Oh, it’s a BIG deal. Gosh, this whole thing is turning into quite the gosh dang flippin crap show (excuse my language). Now they’re warning my own friends to stay away me. Well, think about dinner at least, talk to Mark. It’d be fun to talk and catch up. I need more people like you in my life.”
“Yes . . . definitely.”
More people like you? What did that mean? Was she being genuine or trying to recruit the opposition to her side?
“Bye, dear.”
“Bye.”
When Emily was finished folding the laundry, she walked from Neph’s room into Alydia’s to put away the rest of the clothes into their respective places. The school bus would be here any minute and then there would be homework to attend to, bags to unpack, Tupperware to wash, and dinner to start. Family conversation. Family reading.
Her phone dinged. A text from Lee.
“We’re going to the wedding!” it read. She couldn’t believe it. How exciting! Another ding: “But I think we’re going to go down a day early and camp somewhere outside of Zion.”
“OK!” she responded back, with a smiling face emoji and a thumbs-up emoji. “Can’t wait!”
“We’ll see you there!” Lee texted back.
Later in the evening, once the kids were down and the dishes quietly running in the dishwasher, her teeth brushed, Emily felt a spontaneous urge well up within her. She approached Mark, almost asleep, reading on the bed, by kissing his neck and rubbing his chest first, then moving down to between his legs.
After they made love, Emily’s eyes felt heavy, the lids of them heavy upon her as if weighted with golden coins. She felt herself drifting into sleep and oblivion, as if she were falling into one of those beanbag chairs or a playpen full of soft, rubber balls.
Emily couldn’t keep her eyes open and she wondered whether this was how men felt after sex—helpless but to fall asleep. She felt as if everything within her—all the pent-up, angry, evil thoughts within her, the questions of inner and outer darkness, existence, the nature of religion, feminism, family—were now spilled out upon their bed, purified, perhaps even through the act of sex itself. Emily would ask Mark tomorrow if she could go to the wedding. He’d be in a better mood now.
And she soon fell fast asleep.