Karen stirred from bed. Marvin peeked out from under the pillow and then pulled the covers up to his neck.
“Marvin,” she said and walked to the bathroom.
He counted from 10 to 1, back to 17, down to -4. He was back up to 27 when he stood up.
Though he knew it was locked, he jiggled the doorknob.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The little lock clicked and he entered. She leaned over the sink, ass in the air. The little teddy she wore had a thumb-sized hole by her right rib cage. The teddy looked like it would send dust flying if whacked hard enough.
Marv shuffled over to her and lined things up.
“Happy anniversary, Timothy,” she said.
“Happy anniversary, Tim,” Marv said, glancing out the little window at the backyard. The pool’s outline still peered out from under the dirt, crabgrass, weeds and lime-colored grass. He made a note to pick up some more dirt.
She grunted as he slipped inside her.
“Grab my shoulders, like you did.”
He dug his nails into her shoulders.
"Right," she said.
He looked at them in the little mirror, her little tongue darting out between her lips, his face reddening, extra skin under his chin. He knew not to glance out the window. He hadn't done it three years ago so he didn't get to today.
Just before he came, his breathing getting ragged, Karen banged on the sink. She pushed off of him, washed up, and then went downstairs.
Even when he smelled coffee, Marv found himself unable to leave the bathroom. Would they relive this day the same way in five years? Why hadn't they left the house where three years ago today their boy took his last breaths just as Marv was getting ready to cum all over Karen’s back, just as their son's friend banged on the bathroom door yelling I can't lift Tim off the bottom of the pool?
Author's Bio: David Erlewine has stories appearing in elimae, SmokeLong Quarterly, decomP, The Pedestal, and a number of other journals. He edits fiction for Dogzplot. His sad little blog is http://www.whizbyfiction.blogspot.com/