The Switch House: A Short Novel

by Tim Meyer

  Then I headed for our bedroom, the source of the commotion. That was when I heard the whimpering. It was loud enough for me to hear it over the music. The closer I got, the more distinct it became. It was definitely Lynne, and she was definitely crying. But why? I certainly didn't remember doing anything to upset her that morning. She kissed me goodbye like she had every day since we started living together. Not to mention, Lynne wasn't really the crying type. Maybe once or twice when she was using, when her emotions were like a rainbow, six different Lynnes at once. But I knew she wasn't using. I could tell when she was.

  The first thing I noticed when I pushed open the bedroom door was Buster Gritton—a three-hundred pound All-Pro lineman. His face was scrunched together, his eyes closed as if he was thinking really hard about something. Oh, and he was naked. The second thing I saw was Lynne, bent over in front of him. Also naked. She was also thinking real hard about something, with her eyes tightly shut and her bottom lip between her teeth. Buster was thrusting into her real hard, the slapping sounds of their bare skin colliding could actually be heard over the shitty music. Buster slapped her ass, leaving behind a pink paw print, and muttered something about coming real soon.

  I tried to speak, but whatever I wanted to say never left my throat. I did nothing but stare. And stare. And stare. I watched the two of them fuck in my bed, our bed, the one we made love in almost every night before falling asleep. Lynne submerged her head into her pillow and groaned bestially.

  That's when I started to feel ill. My body felt empty. It felt as if someone had removed my bones and organs. My head felt vacant, as if someone had peeled back my scalp, drilled holes in my cranium, and vacuumed out my brains. I opened my mouth again but remained speechless. I stood there, mouth agape, and witnessing the worst day of my adult life to date.

  Then Buster Gritton opened his eyes and saw me. At first he said nothing, and continued with his rhythmic thrusts. Then he slowed, and I heard Lynne ask him if he had finished, as she lifted her golden mop off the bed. I felt like I was going to puke when Lynne finally turned and saw me standing in the doorway.

  My chest did something funny and the lights in the room dimmed.

  “What the fuck?” she screamed, as if I were the one caught getting my body rocked by a three-hundred-pound gorilla.

  I took one step forward and realized there wasn't any strength left in my legs. I stumbled forward and headed for the carpet. I found a world of darkness before my body hit the floor.

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