I Haven't The Foggiest

The knock on the door startled them both. After a quick exchange of glances, Roy rose from his armchair and opened the door to their home. The small box at the foot of the door laid alone. Roy looked around for any sight of a courier. The calm summer day showed no signs of anyone. He picked up the brown paper-wrapped box and shut the door, making sure to take another quick look for a driver.

“Who was it, honey,” Sara asked. Roy placed the box on the counter. “Just another package,” he replied. “It looks like it from that memory company.” The small box read “ReCollection” in small letters in the top left corner. “Have you decided which memory we’re donating to the renters?” Sara asked. Roy shook his head. Sara tried to think of something good for the sad souls who would be borrowing their good times.

She held too closely to the memories of their children. Something of the sort could not be given away. The laughs she shared with her late sister were far too precious. Suddenly, an idea struck Sara. The moment was fun but had passed and been gone for some time now.

“What about Rico?” Sara asked.

“The wedding?” Roy replied.

“Yes, the wedding.”

“You loved that wedding! We can’t just give that up!”

“We’ll be fine, honey. And besides, the brochure said we get paid more for one time events and -,”

“No, Sara,” Roy interrupted. “The answer is no,”

The room fell silent. Sara took a deep breath and buried her head in a home décor magazine she picked up from the coffee table. Roy covered his face in his morning newspaper. Neither was reading.

When the quiet began to be too much, Roy dropped his paper and looked over his wife. This caught Sara’s attention, but she tried not to be seen looking over at him. After a moment of bad acting, Sara finally returned the gaze to her husband. “What is it, Roy?” Sara asked. He let out a huff and turned in her direction. “Sara, do you even still want to be together?” The question was heated and anxious. The thought of waiting too long to answer made Sara seem as though she was configuring a response, so she blurted what sounded right to her.

“Yes, Roy. Of course,” Sara said. “What kind of question is that?”

“How could you want to give them the wedding?” Roy replied.

“I was just thinking –“

Roy rolled his eyes at the very common start of his wife’s sentences. She threw her magazine on the floor and stood in front of her husband. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me!” Roy attempted not to seem agitated but was not sure how well he was going. He declared his dismissal of the situation by walking away into their kitchen. Sara marched behind him as loudly as possible.

“I don’t see what the problem is!” Sara belted. “The wedding is over, we’re married. It’s done!” Roy whipped around to face his wife. She was red with anger but her confusion seemed genuine. Roy took this into account before responding. “Look. Sara. All I’m saying is that it was your idea to borrow that huge wedding and now you want to throw it all away.” Sara stood back. The bewilderment on her face troubled Roy. He reached his hand out to comfort his wife, only to have her snatch herself free from his grasp. Her eyes traced his frame, almost in fear of him.

“What did you just say?” Sara asked, concerned.

Roy remained silent, going back over his words.

The two stood there puzzled. A subtle knock on the front door brought them back to the moment. A scraggly man with an unkempt beard and oily hair trickling from his cap stood looking at the couple as they opened the door. “Pickup.” His words felt out of nowhere. The lethargic look in his eyes didn’t offer any more insight. Sara picked up the brown box from the counter and handed it to the man. He took it from them, nodded, and made his way back to his vehicle.

Sara slowly shut the door and looked over at Roy, who was staring back at her.

“What was that package? Roy asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” replied Sara.