{"id":12523,"date":"2017-02-09T14:21:21","date_gmt":"2017-02-09T19:21:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/?p=12523"},"modified":"2017-02-09T15:04:10","modified_gmt":"2017-02-09T20:04:10","slug":"the-shirt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/the-shirt\/","title":{"rendered":"The Shirt"},"content":{"rendered":"

February\/March 2017 | view this story as a .pdf<\/a><\/p>\n

By John Manderino<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\"FM17-Fiction\"Are you going to wear that?\u201d Jill asked, brushing her hair, looking at Bob in her dressing table mirror.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought I might,\u201d he said by the closet, buttoning. \u201cWhy? You don\u2019t like it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can wear something else.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s entirely up to you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWould you prefer I wore something else?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you like that shirt, Bob?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I do. I like it very much.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen you should wear it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut do you like it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTell me anyway, just for fun.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll right. Just for fun? I don\u2019t like it. I think it\u2019s utterly dreadful.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re kidding.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would I kid?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He began unbuttoning it. \u201cThen I\u2019ll wear something else.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou said it was dreadful.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUtterly.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then.\u201d He continued unbuttoning it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t change your shirt for me, Bob.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho should I change it for?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFor yourself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut I like this shirt.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen there\u2019s nothing more to be said.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bob hesitated, holding a button. \u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d He began buttoning it up again.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jill watched him in the mirror. \u201cSo you\u2019re going to wear it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Jill, I am. I think it\u2019s a terrific-looking shirt.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen you should definitely wear it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI definitely intend to.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can see that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry you don\u2019t like it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t matter, apparently.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bob dropped his hands, one button to go. \u201cJill, that\u2019s not fair. Of course it matters. You know that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd yet\u2026\u201d She gestured in the mirror towards the shirt he was nevertheless wearing. <\/span><\/p>\n

Bob stood there a moment. Then he began quickly unbuttoning. \u201cThis is ridiculous. I\u2019ll wear another shirt, for God sakes. I hate this shirt. It\u2019s a horrible, bitchy, impossible shirt and I want nothing more to do with it.\u201d He pulled it off and flung it to the carpet, then stood there in his T-shirt with his hands at his hips, breathing hard. \u201cAll right? Happy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She looked at him in the mirror, sadly. \u201cSee how you get?\u201d She put an earring on. <\/span><\/p>\n

He continued standing there, watching her put the other one on. Then he said quietly, \u201cJill, will you tell me something, please?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf I can.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2026exactly\u2026do you want from me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou really want to know?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI really do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going to like it,\u201d she warned, opening a tube of lipstick.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTell me anyway.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to be a man, Bob.\u201d She began coloring her lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

He stood there nodding, hands at his hips. Then he drew a long breath, calmly picked up the shirt, and began putting it on again, speaking warmly. \u201cI remember the day I bought this shirt. It was raining, hard. I was passing a men\u2019s store on my way to the train and saw it in the window. I stopped right there in the rain and said to myself, \u2018Now, that is one hell of a good-looking shirt. I want it and I\u2019m gonna have it.\u2019 Then I marched straight in and told the man, \u2018I want that shirt, the one in the window. Get it for me. Now.\u2019 And you know what he said to me, Jill? I\u2019ll never forget.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Get it yourself\u2019?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bob nodded, smiling. \u201cVery good. Very funny.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d She was applying eyeliner now. \u201cWhat did the man say, Bob?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNever mind.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll right.\u201d She drew a line just beneath her eye.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell you what he said. And I quote: \u2018I can see you\u2019re the kind of man who knows exactly what he wants.\u2019\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThose were his words, Bob? His actual words?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWords to that effect. The point is, I love this shirt. That\u2019s the point I\u2019m trying to make here.\u201d He finished buttoning it. \u201cI love it and I\u2019m going to wear it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t?\u201d she said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked at her imploring face in the mirror. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBob, please?\u201d she said to him. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, honey.\u201d He held out his arms. \u201cCome here. Come here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She got up and went to him and wept against the shirt. \u201cI hate it, Bob. I hate it so much.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He held her. \u201cI know\u2026I know\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTell me you won\u2019t ever wear it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll burn it in the yard, Jill. We\u2019ll dance around the flames.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust promise you\u2019ll never wear it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI promise.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d Sniffling, she began unbuttoning it for him. \u201cBy the way. That story you told about buying it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou made that up, didn\u2019t you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSome of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAll of it. I bought the shirt, Bob.\u201d She finished unbuttoning it and returned to her dressing table. \u201cI bought it for you last Christmas.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He said quietly, \u201cOh, yeah.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI saw it at Marshall Field\u2019s.\u201d She plucked out a Kleenex from the box and began wiping off her runny eyeliner. \u201cI remember thinking to myself, \u2018Wow. Bob would look really good in that. Really\u2026different.\u2019\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He was about to remove the shirt but stopped. \u201cFrom what, Jill? Different from what? From Bob?\u201d He stepped up behind her. \u201cIs that what you thought? Different from Bob?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She was reapplying her eyeliner.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut I don\u2019t look different, do I. I look just the same, the same old Bob.\u201d He spread his arms, displaying the shirt. \u201cA little different packaging, that\u2019s all.\u201d He dropped his arms. \u201cThat\u2019s the reason you hate this shirt so much, isn\u2019t it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She put her eyeliner pencil away. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIsn\u2019t it, Jill.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre we going to dinner or not?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I don\u2019t believe we are.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe have reservations, Bob.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d He placed his hands around her neck. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you going to do, strangle me now?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He took his hands back. \u201cSorry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTell you what. How about this,\u201d she offered. \u201cYou go ahead and wear the shirt. I sit across from it the entire meal. By the time we reach dessert, the shirt is fine. I\u2019m fine. You\u2019re fine. We have an after-dinner drink, maybe two or three. Get a little tipsy. Come home. Have sex. Fall asleep. Get up the next morning and go on.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWith what.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She sighed. \u201cWith us.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

They stared at one another in the mirror for a long time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStrangle me, Bob.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked at his watch. \u201cIf we\u2019re going, Jill, we should go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the time?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cQuarter till.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She grabbed her purse and got up, then stood there looking at him.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat,\u201d he said. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you going to at least button the thing?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He did so, as they left together.<\/span> n<\/span><\/p>\n

John Manderino\u2019s latest fiction collection is But You Scared Me the Most<\/em> (Chicago Review Press, $14.99). He is currently finishing a novel titled Bopper\u2019s Progress. He lives in Scarborough and can be found at johnmanderino.com<\/a>. <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

February\/March 2017 | view this story as a .pdf By John Manderino Are you going to wear that?\u201d Jill asked, brushing her hair, looking at Bob in her dressing table mirror. \u201cI thought I might,\u201d he said by the closet, buttoning. \u201cWhy? You don\u2019t like it?\u201d \u201cDidn\u2019t say that.\u201d \u201cI can wear something else.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":12527,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[112],"tags":[119],"class_list":["post-12523","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-februarymarch-2017"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12523","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12523"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12523\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12528,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12523\/revisions\/12528"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/12527"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12523"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12523"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12523"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}