Love Is a Canoe: A Novel by Ben Schrank

I hate how that stupid line is imprinted on my brain. Be ready, because I am going to call you later,” Emily said.
    “Can you hear my teeth chattering? I hate previews,” Sherry said, and hung up.
    Emily began to rush down the not-too-hot August street. She saw the fish store closing for the night. Part of her wanted to talk her way past the guy fiddling with the pull-down gate to grab up the last piece of tuna. By channeling the saleswoman in her, she could be quite good at that sort of convincing. But no, no. Too late. Move on. Her timing was just horrible lately. Driving Sherry crazy right before she had to go onstage, choosing odd ways home, obsessively attending inarguably dull lectures on subjects like the design of Byzantine coins, and avoiding her husband.
    Her handbag dragged at her shoulder. Her life felt too up in the air and here she was, buying books she already owned to weigh her down. There was something frozen that they could heat up and eat, she was sure of it. That would be fine. Some ribs that Eli had cooked for friends two weeks earlier. No. Defrosted ribs were gross. He could have them sometime when she was out. She was sure there was pasta. Probably there were some frozen beans, too.
    Her husband was really just a driven and occasionally distracted guy who had said, “You make me better,” when he’d asked her to marry him at Café Loup after they’d been together a little over a year. He told her all the time how much he loved what she had made of their lives. Still, now, knowing he was a good guy wasn’t helping. She had to believe he wasn’t up to anything with Jenny. They were just in a mental I-would-so-do-you type of affair because they were both good-looking in a similar dark-and-sexy way, and also because Roman Street had been unstoppable lately, transitioning from a cool brand with serious supply problems to talk of growth plans and distribution partnerships and a feature on Forbes.com. And what was a hug, anyway? A hug was not a kiss. And Eli was such a poor writer that she doubted he was capable of a euphemism. He wasn’t traveling anytime soon and she would just be more vigilant. She would kill whatever was growing. Somehow, they’d get past it. She would figure out a way to get them past it.
    Emily was now basically counting the minutes until Sherry’s play was over so she could call her and learn more about Jenny and try to figure out what to do. Since Sherry had gone to Amherst with Jenny, she knew the woman’s awful history and Sherry owed Emily the truth about whatever she’d left out when she had first introduced Jenny to Eli at that pie contest, over a year ago. So what if Eli had won the contest and, as a gesture of celebration, hired Jenny on the spot. It had all been funny and festive at the time and even Emily had gotten drunk enough to stay up singing “We Are the Champions” over and over with Jenny and her sister and Eli.
    Jenny had started working for Eli a few weeks later and he had been less stressed ever since. Eli needed an awful lot of people around him to keep his business going. And Jenny, the hot little work wife, she was a blessing. Until everything that had made Emily act supportive when she first met Jenny began to feel very wrong. So yes, Sherry had no right to be angry at Emily for constantly hanging up on her, considering how badly Sherry had fucked up Emily’s life. Well. If not exactly fucked it up directly, then Sherry had certainly set the goddamned bike wheels in motion.

Peter Herman, early September 2011
    Maddie Narayan drove up Peter Herman’s driveway in her brand-new, black Mercedes station wagon. She got out and wrapped a purple shawl around her shoulders. Though it was early September and still warm at dusk, it would grow cool within the hour. Peter watched her.
    “You’re always so well prepared,” he called out.
    “That is my welcome?”
    “Sorry. Good trip?” Peter came down to meet her.
    His front porch faced a small field