C4 antho - Chamber Four

Pool ~265~
She put her hand on his wrist. The package said the success
rate was 99%. It was a sure thing. And besides, she
didn’t know if that one time had really been enough anyway.
“Just stop,” she said. Her throat dried up.
The cooler hung open under the shadow of the house,
green and brown bottle necks pushing through the ice. Only
root beer left in cans or cream soda that made Darla sick.
“I’ll be back,” she told Jon, who had taken off his sandals
and dangled hairy legs in the blinding white-blue water.
Trevor floated the baby on a raft tour of the outer edges of
the pool. He pointed out the pump to her and the water filter
and the black widow spider web under the diving board.
“Putting on your swimsuit?” Jon said.
Trevor looked over at her. “The water feels great,” he
said. “Come in and join us.”
Darla reached a hand into the pool, which was warmer
than she’d expected. “A little later,” she said, knowing that
she wouldn’t, that she hated others seeing her in her swimsuit.
* * * *
The kitchen had that familiar avocado-green tinge, the
orange linoleum curling at the edges, the reminder that this
was all new in the ’70s. Darla already knew where everything
was. She and Jon were house-sitters there a couple of
months before, taking the cocker spaniels out to pee, sleeping
in the master bedroom which was the only bedroom,
swimming naked in the pool and then having sex on a couch
covered in dog hair. Darla knew the kitchen had enough
snack food to supply a small convenience store. She thought
of the bright packages as bags of chemicals, preserving each
other, as though they were something worth preserving.