They met at the As Seen On TV store. He was buying a Magic Bullet. She, a ShamWow! It was a match made in heaven.
“You know it can hold up to 12 times its weight in liquid,” he said.
“You’ll say ‘WOW’ every time,” she answered.
And so it went. He invited her back to his apartment to enjoy a delicious smoothie, courtesy of the Countertop Magician. When the lid came off and his kitchen got soaked in blended fruit, she cleaned up the mess with a few swipes of her ShamWow.
They discovered the Snuggie on their first anniversary.
“You would look hot in that,” she said, imagining him wrapped in a luxurious pair of burgundy sleeves.
“No way, an attached reading light?” His face lit up. She was already dialing the phone.
She spoke into the mouthpiece, her voice quick with excitement. “No, really? Two? Absolutely!”
A week later their package arrived. She put their folded blankets away. Obsolete. They each unwrapped their boxes, set aside the “special offer — act now” pamphlets from the bottom of the box to be combed through later, and donned their sleeved blankets. Hers was zebra print — she liked to show off the wild side she thought she had. He had chosen royal blue. He thought it was classy.
They sat side by side in their matching armchairs — only seven easy payments of $29.99 — relaxing into the fleecy softness, admiring their arm mobility, flicking their free bonus reading lights on and off.
“What more could we want?” they wondered.
Three months later, she was doing laundry. In the back of his closet, where he liked to throw his dirty socks, she found it. Buried under his running shoes.
A Slanket.
Dazed, she walked into the kitchen and set it on the table, delicately, like you would move a dead rat. It sat crumpled on the plastic paisley tablecloth.
He was doing dishes. Soap suds stuck to his dark arm hairs. He bobbed his head in time with the radio.
Her heart beat hard enough for her to see her chest pulse. “Who is she?” She was calm, collected, cold.
He didn’t hear her. He hummed softly to himself.
The second time, her voice cracked a little as she got louder. “Paul. Who is she?” She hated how shrill she sounded. She didn’t know when her arm had stuck out of its own accord, pointing accusingly at the Slanket. She wanted to burn it.
“Hmm?” he turned, plate in hand. He looked from her stricken face to the table, and back again. He let the plate fall into the sink, and without drying his soapy hands, wrapped his arms around her. She burst into tears, but didn’t push him away. They soaked into the front of his shirt, still hot.
“I thought I wanted more variety,” he said gently. “They have so many more colors. It’s so much bigger, thicker. I thought it would be softer.”
He heard a muffled noise from his chest. “Was it?” she asked with a sniff.
“It didn’t mean anything.” In her mind, she laughed in disbelief, but it came out as a more forceful sob. “She tried to get me a Siamese Slanket,” he admitted.
He paused. “I told her you were the only one I wanted to be connected to like that.”
Finally, she pushed him away with both hands, like a beginning ice skater who finally stops clinging to the wall.
She grabbed her purse from the counter. Her hands shook as she searched around inside it for her keys.
When she spoke she sounded surprisingly collected. “I ordered you the Snuggie Sutra. It should be coming tomorrow or the next day. Do whatever you fucking want with it.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I’ll be back later for my stuff.”
She brushed past him toward the door. Through her blurred vision, she saw his Magic Bullet, just sitting there. Asking for it. She could feel the anger rising up from the bottom of her stomach. With a deft swipe, she knocked it off, and it slammed into the linoleum. Its pieces broke apart, but it didn’t shatter like she wanted it to.
From behind her, he let out a small, involuntary squeak. She didn’t look back. She threw all her weight into opening their sliding glass door. The extra effort pulled it partially off its tracks, and it hung there, off kilter, as she walked down the steps to her car. He could hear the clunk of each footstep on the wooden staircase.
And then she was gone.