Goodnight, Beautiful Women

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Joni called the sheriff right after it happened. Her voice was clear and steady, and the line she gave was the right one. I believe my husband has drowned in the quarry by our house. She changed out of Jack’s boxers into jeans and a gray button-up. It was difficult picking out appropriate clothing for a woman who’d just lost her husband. She combed her hair until it sparked with static. Joni, who once cried over a Folgers Coffee commercial, hadn’t cried yet. This frustrated her, like a sneeze that wouldn’t come. She tucked some tissues up her sleeve, just in case.

Joni told it to the sheriff like it was. “I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my name from outside. Probably around one in the morning. I look out the window by the bed and Jack’s wading into the quarry, holding a small hunk of granite. He was wearing a white T-shirt, so I could see him clearly, and I saw his head go under. By the time I got outside, he was gone.”

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