Fight Song A Novel - By Joshua Mohr Page 0,18
on what she deems their marriage’s nemesis.
She holds her dental bib at her waist, facing it backward, so nobody can see it.
“That was fast,” Coffen says to her.
“I know what I want to say.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Go with your gut.”
“One sec.”
“You know what’s wrong.”
“I’m still thinking.”
“Of course you are.”
It sounds like a dig to Coffen: the way Jane says, Of course you are, like thinking is some kind of crime, like wanting to make an educated decision is a statement about Bob’s inability to make decisions. Which of course isn’t true. Not just anybody would have heaved the patriotic javelin toward the window; they’d have settled on hitting the flowerpot, now wouldn’t they? Bob faced down a bully and was born anew. That night, Bob felt himself reboot, felt himself start over. No longer was he going to be some kind of human punching bag. Hell no. And tonight is the chance for him to do the same thing with his marriage. Tonight is a way for them to refresh themselves, install updates. Tonight is a system wipe.
Everyone is standing and waiting for him to finish writing.
Jane looms, bouncing one of her legs in a quick rhythm. Coffen can see her anger. It’s in the eyes. Yikes, it’s even in the nose and eyebrows and wrinkles. It’s in the way she stares and shakes her head back and forth.
“Almost done,” Bob says.
“Jesus, just pick something!” Jane says.
“I’m trying.”
“This is what’s wrong with our marriage. Do something, Bob. Act. Be here!”
Coffen can see her frustration cranking to ire. She thinks he’s floundering, though that’s not what he’s doing, at least not intentionally. He’s being thorough, practical, shrewd. Then it dawns on Bob that the night with Schumann is the key for how best to convey his newfound message—people will keep ramming you into the oleanders forever if you let them. You have to be your own defender.
Coffen hurriedly writes his message.
Then he joins his standing comrades.
He smiles at Jane, who averts her eyes to the stage, keeps shaking her head.
“One last word to the wise,” says Björn. “Seeing your partner’s sign is not going to be easy. It might make you mad or sad or defensive. These are all valid responses. Maybe you can go so far as to say they’re inevitable. But remember that tonight is merely Step 1 of the process. And what’s Step 1? Step 1 is ‘Read the Signs.’ Step 2 is my intermediate show, which I highly recommend. For tonight, you are honestly sharing your vulnerabilities with each other, and maybe it’s been several years since you’ve been honest in the relationship. Otherwise, why would you be here? So no matter how hard it is to read your partner’s sign, try and put your own self aside and see what has caused your partner to feel the way they currently feel.
“In retrospect, I think Vivian was bored in the bedroom because I have a low testosterone count. That’s not my fault, people, that’s science. However, if Vivian had been willing to turn her invisible dangling sign into a visible dangling sign and communicate her heart’s true feelings, I could have gone to the doctor and gotten a shot and my testosterone could have exploded through the roof. Do you see what I mean? So read the signs, no matter how painful the message might be: I’m offering a chance to save your marriage. Now make sure that you and your spouse position yourselves on the red X taped on the floor behind your seats. Stand less than a foot apart from each other and directly on the X. Here goes … ”
The lights go dark again.
The prerecorded heartbeat thumps from the speakers.
Everybody attaches their dental bibs.
Björn the Bereft says, “Abracadabra … Abracadabra … Abracadabra!”
Everything becomes clear as the room is lit once more.
Thin ice
Here’s what comes clear as the room is lit once more: First, Bob and Jane are no longer standing on the red X on the carpeted floor. They, like Sputtering Husband and Zombie Wife, are now standing on thin ice. Bob Coffen taps his foot on it, leans down to touch it, verifying that this isn’t some kind of optical illusion. It is not. Coffen looks around at the other couples whose feet he can see, and they, too, are all perfectly framed in their own small circles of ice.
A slap!
A woman slugs a man whose sign says ASIAN FETISH and WIFE’S NOT ASIAN. He falls flat on his ass on the