This week Writers Island’s prompt was “The Renewal.” I couldn’t think of an original idea specifically for that prompt so I’m posting a story I was working on for Ann Ireland during the Ryerson Short Story Writing Course I took this past summer. It’s theme is more one of “awakening” than “renewal,” but it’s the best I could come up with in a pinch this week.

Family Jewels
By S.M. Toy

Shut up! Just shut up!

Tracy propped one elbow on the café railing and cupped her chin in the hand’s palm. She gazed down the street at nothing in particular, silently willing her husband to stop pontificating. Bad enough she’d had to traipse around after him in the museum all morning.

The Parisian back street was moderately busy that sunny day. The restaurant patio, a block from their hotel, had offered welcome shade and a place for Tracy to relax her aching legs. Doug had plans to hit another art gallery shortly after they ate lunch. While they were settling in, he automatically ordered café au lait. “Deux, s’il vous plait,” he said, holding up two fingers at the passing garçon.

Tracy would have rather had had something cold, maybe a beer for a change, but said nothing.

Doug launched back into lecturing her and didn’t show any signs of letting up, so she continued to stare down the street, nodding every once in a while so he would think she was paying attention. After thirty years of practise she had this routine down pat.

Finally some activity caught her attention, braking through her husband’s droning. Startled into close observation, she blinked hard twice, not believing her eyes.

Pedestrians were stepping aside, giving wide berth, pointing, and stifling their laughter behind hands. An elderly man, squat, pleasantly plump, and totally naked, save for sandals and white socks, strolled out from the parting crowd and along the centre of the sidewalk towards where Tracy sat. With a full head of wavey-grey hair and a Cheshire Cat-face, he had the look of an odd mix of aged-cherub and manically grinning gargoyle, just like those carvings they’d seen in Notre Dame.

Tracy stared intently, then giggled, imagining a friend’s oh-so-British voice declaring, “His dingly-danglies are showing!” When the man came along side of Tracy, his head turned, they made eye contact. He flashed her a big, satisfied smile, threw a quick wave, and continued walking.

“What the…” Doug said, his consideration of the Gauls and Visigoths coming to an abrupt end.

Tracy turned back to look at her husband, a smile still playing on her lips. “You didn’t see his gem-encrusted penis ring. Gave new meaning to the term Family Jewels.”

Doug huffed, “Where are the police?” Craning his neck, he watched the man’s backside, adding, “Surely, even in France, one can’t walk around naked.”

Tracy looked at Doug, her brow now furrowed. “Why not? He seemed perfectly happy to me.” She turned around for another glimpse, but the nudist had already disappeared into a crowd. “And harmless,” she said, more to herself, continuing to look down the street.

A moment later there was a scuffle when two uniforms approached. They grabbed the naked man’s arms and plucked him from the passers-by, dragging him out of Tracy’s sight.

“Good!” Doug said, settling back into his seat, pulling straight his jacket lapels. “That’s taken care of.”

The waiter appeared and disinterestedly placed two cups on their table, leaving immediately.

“Merci,” Tracy said to his retreating back. She reached for a napkin and, while sopping up the spilled coffee from the saucer, she studied her husband’s face. “Why ‘good’? Why can’t we do what makes us happy, whenever the moment grabs us?”

“What a question! Everything would become chaotic without rules. You know that. You’ve helped me raise three children.”

“Helped?” Tracy said breathlessly, shaking her head in disbelief. More like, we’ve always done as you’ve said. She didn’t dare speak her thoughts out loud.

“People can’t just do whatever they want, not if it upsets everyone.”

Looking around, Tracy observed that life in the café had resumed as though nothing had happened. Or, what she thought was more likely the case, a naked man walking down the street was so common an occurrence that few had paid any attention at all. “You’re the only one who’s upset,” she said, waving an arm at other diners seated on the patio. “Besides, if the man has an expensive penis ring, why can’t he flaunt it?” she smirked.

No longer in the shade, she cupped a hand over her eyes. Doug’s face, even though protected by the awning, was turning red; sweat beaded his brow.

“Tracy, this isn’t funny. He’s crazy. How long might it be before he hurts someone, or himself? Better if he’s locked up.”

Like me? Tracy pursed her lips, but remained silent.

After gathering courage for a few moments, she said, “I’m leaving.”

“You want to go back to the hotel? But we just got our coffee. I thought we were going to eat.” He searched around for their waiter.

“No, Doug. I’m leaving you.” Tracy reached to the ground, fingering her purse handles.

Doug turned back to his wife with a startled look. She’d managed to silence him more effectively than if she’d reached out and slapped his face. He harrumphed and, reaching for the sugar, fumbled with the coffee spoon, trying to buy time and avoid the direction Tracy was heading. Finally finding his voice, Doug said, hissing at her, “What will the kids think? What about the rest of the family, our friends, our neighbours? How do I explain this? You’re going to make me look like a fool!”

The sun glinted off the balding spot where his hairline receded. The beginning of a tear glistened in the corner of one eye so he quickly removed his glasses, swiping the moisture away, not allowing it the opportunity to course down his cheek.

Tracy sighed and shook her head as if to stop the guilt from settling on her shoulders one more time. She grabbed the handles of her bag, lifting it from the ground, and pushing herself up from the chair, reached over and placed one palm on his cheek. She whispered, “Goodbye, Doug.” Then turning, she straightened her back and walked steadily through the café entrance, out onto the sidewalk, heading towards their hotel. If Doug had called out to try to stop her, she didn’t hear.

The sun shone in her face causing her to squint. Or was that the beginning of a smile? Tracy fingered the blouse button at her neck and quickly unfastened it, as well as the next, allowing a slight breeze to deliciously trickle down into her cleavage.

Tracy lay on the bed, fully clothed. With the window shut and the curtains closed, she was completely in the dark. But she wasn’t asleep, just thinking, thoughts racing through her head so fast and all jumbled up that she couldn’t sort out what she should do next. She had unknowingly been studying a crack in the hotel room wall, one that began in the left-hand upper corner and snaked its way down to almost meet the window’s edge.

A tentative knock sounded at the door. Tracy closed her eyes then covered them with the back of one hand. She remained silent.

“Tracy?” Doug tested the waters. “Tracy, I know you’re in there. Please open the door.” A moment passed before he tried the handle. It turned and the door opened. He entered the room. “Why didn’t you lock the door?” he said, sounding annoyed at first. “Anyone could have walked in.” Then becoming concerned, he said, “And what are you doing in here in the dark? You’re not feeling well? I knew it. Why didn’t you say so at the restaurant?”

Tracy waited a long moment then said quietly, “I’m fine.” She removed her hand, but kept her eyes shut.

“Maybe you just need something to eat. Would you like me to order room service?” Doug hesitated. “Or maybe you’d like to go downstairs. You could get the same food and it would cost a lot less in the café. Walking around might do you some good, too. Better than laying here on the bed, in the dark.” He walked over to the window and grabbed a curtain.

“Please keep that closed,” Tracy said, and she opened her eyes to glare at her husband.

Doug turned when she spoke, dropping the curtain. “What’s wrong with you, Tracy,” he said. “And what’s this about leaving? You amaze me! You don’t really want to leave me. Where did this suddenly come from? Just because a naked man walks past, you want to give up thirty years? After all I’ve done for you, provided you with? And right now, especially when I’ve finally retired, you want to leave? I thought we were going to spend our golden years together. Now stop this foolishness, Tracy. Get up and we’ll go out so you can have some lunch.” He stopped speaking for a moment and moved to the foot of the bed. “I ate after you left the restaurant. We can skip the art gallery this afternoon, if you want. Maybe do something you’d like to do. Shopping? But let’s forget we even had this conversation and just go back to the way things were. Okay?”

Tracy sat up and turned around, placing her feet firmly on the floor. She looked directly at Doug and said slowly, emphasizing each word, “What you’ve done for me?” she gulped. “What you’ve given me?” Now that she had suddenly found her voice, there was no stopping, and she leaped right down his throat. “I’ve had thirty years of boredom, of doing only what you wanted to do because I thought that was the way a happy marriage worked, what society wanted of me, and I was afraid to do anything different. Now a naked man has shown me there’s something more to life that I’ve been missing all along. I know now I can do what pleases me – if I want to. It’s not just the gallery this afternoon, Doug.” Her volume had risen to the point where it was close to becoming a scream. “If I get dragged into one more museum, or have to do anything else because you want to do it, I might just possibly die. Walking around the streets naked would be preferable to this unrelenting boredom our life has become. At least I’d feel free, like I was doing something I chose to do.”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down.” Doug held out his hands, patting down at the air. “There might be someone in the next room.”

“They wouldn’t care about what we’re saying in English.” But Tracy’s voice had lowered voice out of habitual deference.

Doug paused to think. He slowly said, “It’s the money you want, isn’t it? If you think I’m going to let you go without a fight, allowing you to get away with this… or, wait a minute… is there someone else? You’ve planned this with someone, haven’t you?”

“You just don’t get it – and there’s the problem. I don’t want your money, or at least no more than I’m entitled to. And there’s no one else. I just want to be allowed to find out who I really am. I can’t do that as long as you’re constantly calling the shots.”

“I know what it is - you’re menopausal. You’re not thinking clearly, Tracy.” Doug suddenly looked concerned, leaning over and reaching a hand out to pat her shoulder. She stood up from the bed and shrugged him off. He continued, “Can’t we wait until we get back to Toronto to talk about this? You could see a doctor there, or maybe talk with a therapist first. Then we’ll both decide what to do.”

Tracy sighed loudly. Then clenching her teeth, she said, “I’ve never thought more clearly in all my life.” And if I don’t follow through now, I’ll never get away from this man, she grimly thought. “I’m not sick. I just need some space.”

“So what do you plan to do?” He became very business-like again. “I might remind you that there are responsibilities you can’t just walk away from. We have tickets and bookings already paid for. You should at least stay and finish this trip.”

For the very first time in her life, the novelty of not-knowing, not having a plan as to what was about to happen, was decidedly exciting yet, at the same time, still frightening. “I think I’d like to go home.” She said, looking away from him.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.” Doug shook his head. “I don’t know why we can’t just go back to the way things were this morning. We were having such a good time.”

No, you were having a good time. I was tagging along, like I’ve always done.

Tracy glanced at Doug’s angry face before he turned away to walk into the bathroom. When he came back out she was still standing in the same position as though unsure how to move.

“I’d better start seeing about changing our flight,” he said. “This isn’t going to be easy, you know. It’s probably going to cost a lot, too.” He pointed around the room. “You’d pack up our things. I’ll call you from the lobby and let you know when I get through with it all. And, Tracy…” He reached an arm out to her, attempting to drape it around her shoulders, but she moved out of the way so the arm dropped by his side again. “Buck up, Sweetie. We’ll figure a way out of this.” He let himself out of the room.

Tracy sighed deeply. Where had her happiness gone, what she’d felt earlier when leaving the restaurant? She walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. The much cheaper room-without-a-view Doug had insisted on taking looked out at a blank wall of the next-door building. The windows still allowed in some light and Tracy stood in the middle of it, trying to clear her mind of all thought. It hurt to think, but if only she could only figure out which direction she should go now that she had suddenly set things in motion. All she knew was that there was no going back to what they’d had, what they had been.

Reaching up behind her head, Tracy expertly pinned back some escaped strands of hair into her usual hairstyle of a tightly wound bun. Sighing once more, she walked over to the wardrobe, opened the door and, reaching in, pulled out her own suitcase. She hesitated briefly, just for a moment, before reaching in to grab Doug’s.