fwriction

First, a thank you: to you, my readers, who have made this year, fwriction’s first, one that raised my literary spirits and kept me smiling. For that, and many other wonderful interactions, I am eternally grateful.

If you’ve read fwriction before, you know of my deep affection for the writing and wit of Emma Straub. In choosing this “Best of Story of the Day” list, I struggled in deciding between this piece and another, “Marjorie and the Birds,” also featured on fwriction. In the end, though, “Puttanesca,” originally published in FiveChapters, remained at the top. After you’ve read this piece, as a great thing to start the new year, pre-order Straub’s short story collection, Other People We Married. You’re worth it.

The woman showed them to a wall of purses, although it seemed a shame to call them that, like something one’s mother would bring on the cross-town bus. These were something else entirely, a class of handbag Laura had never encountered up close. Stephen pointed to one, an oversized shoulder bag with shiny buckles where the straps connected to the body. The woman took it off the shelf — it had lived in its own cubicle, practically the size of her apartment, Laura thought — and placed it on a glass case in front of them.  Despite herself, Laura reached out to touch it. It was buttery soft, the color of creamy cappuccino. She ran her hand along the length of it, sliding her fingers over the polished buckles. She and John had spent days wandering the streets of Rome without ever going into a store like this.  They’d sat on park benches and played in the grass like children. The larger part of Laura’s brain knew what something like this would do to her, and to Stephen, what it would mean.

 “You like it?” Stephen looked at her expectantly. He’d been practicing. He knew what to ask for, what this thing in front of her was called. He knew its name.

“It’s astounding, actually, but I really can’t let you buy this for me.” The leather felt cherished, something you would keep forever, and then your children would fight over it. She wanted it. She would never use it, just keep it in its bag, surrounded by tissue paper, or no, she would use it every day, no one would ever see her without it. Even when she went running in Prospect Park, it would be like a third arm, only with pockets.

Stephen gently set his credit card down on the counter, and nodded.  The salesgirl had seen this sort of interaction before, and didn’t raise an eyebrow. Laura wondered what she was thinking, but didn’t know how to stop what had already been put in motion, She imagined stamping her feet and walking out of the store, saying something like how dare you, making all of the other shoppers turn and stare. Instead she just watched with her mouth slightly open as the bag was wrapped and decorated like a Christmas tree, and tried to smile.

(In Memoriam—Best of Story of the Day bonus: “Glory,” by Cami Park)