Phil Edwards - Retirement Can Be Murder

He held it up and looked in the mirror. It looked fine then. But he knew that it fit differently on your body than it did held in front of it, like a paper doll. Even his ties seemed fat now. He didn’t know why he’d kept the suits. Maybe it was supposed to be motivational, a reminder to eat carefully. Now he didn’t know if he’d be able to go to dinner.

He’d have to cancel. He picked up the phone and scrolled to “M.” It was the way it had to be. Her name flashed, but he didn’t press send. No, it would be fine. It was just a suit. People didn’t notice what men wore anyway — he couldn’t cancel over that. The women were the show. He admired the crisp outline of his shirt. Then he put on the jacket and pants.

It looked like he’d snuck into his fathers’ clothes. It wasn’t just baggier, it seemed longer. His bulk had taken up length, not just width. The sleeves went down through his wrists and the pant legs covered his feet. He didn’t know he’d been shrunk. Around his waist, the belt bunched so much cloth it looked like he was wearing frills. He stood in front of the mirror. Then he jumped. Someone was standing outside the window behind him.

He didn’t have time to change into something else. Now they were knocking at the door. He never had visitors. Why would he have them now, of all times? He opened the door and stuck out his head.

The woman standing there was short. She wore a tight green t-shirt that looked soft and she had short, pixie hair that was red or brown. He couldn’t tell in the light. She wore tight jeans and was barefoot, not even wearing flip-flops. When he opened the door a little wider she leaned toward him.

“Is this a bad time?” Her smooth voice, a little nasal, made it sound like she’d just told a joke.

“It kind of is.”

“I just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Hello,” he said. She tilted her head to the side.

“Can I come in?”

He let her in. She walked in like she owned the apartment, taking wide steps over his carpet.

“Your suit’s too big.”

“I know.” He pulled his pants up further. “That’s why I didn’t want you to come in.”

“I live next door. I just moved in. I’m Kaylie.”

“Kaylie?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Jake.” He sat on the bed. His suit jacket was like a blanket. “Jake Russo.”

She pulled his desk chair out and sat across from him.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Uh, a couple of months. You?”

She put her hands on his chair like it was hers. She stretched.

“I’ve lived in Sarasota for a few years. I just moved into this building. Hence the introducing myself. Why is your suit so big?”

“What’s that?”

“Why,” she repeated, “is your suit so big?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“Why is it?”

“I should go.” He stood up but she stayed seated. She scanned the room. The short sleeves of her shirt ran up her arm and caught around her shoulder.

“You can’t go anywhere in that.”

“I can’t?”

“Nope.”

“I know.”

“Go to the store.”

“I have to be somewhere tonight. It was nice to meet you though, Kaylie.”

“What’s going on tonight?”

“Something.”

She tilted her head and walked out of the apartment without saying anything. He started to follow, but when he looked out the door, he didn’t see her in either direction. She came out of the door on the right.

“Here.” She handed him a piece of paper. Hotel stationary. She’d written an address in block letters.

“What is it?”

“Directions. You probably don’t know where the Men’s Wearhouse is.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then there you go. You can buy a new suit.”

“Thank you.”

They went back in the apartment.

“So, what do you do?” She sat on the bed this time and tested it with her hands. He sat in the chair.

“I’m a reporter.”

“Here?”

“Yes, right in Sarasota.” He told her his beat and she sighed. He changed the subject.

“Well, what do you do?”

“I’m between jobs.”

“I see.”

“That means I was fired.”

“I see.”

She laughed.

“Do you smoke?”

“No. Do you?”

“No, I was just asking for fun.” She tilted her head to the side and laughed. She took a single cigarette out from behind her ear. He hadn’t seen it. She didn’t light it. Good.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

“If you have a date tonight, you need to go.”

“I have to change. And buy a suit. Thanks for the directions.”

“Go ahead.”

“It was nice meeting you.”

She stayed seated.

“Yeah. Come over sometime.”

She stood near him and then put out her arms. She took the cloth from his jacket and pulled it taut. He walked closer to her. They were a foot apart. Then half a foot. She looked at his side and pressed the jacket buttons against his stomach.

“You have lost a lot of weight, Jake.”

“How do you know I’ve lost weight?”

“Because men don’t buy suits this large for no reason.”

“Right.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She pulled it tighter and he stepped closer. Four inches between them. “You don’t need to be embarrassed now.”

“Good.” Then she let him go. The fabric flopped around him, loose as a sheet. She turned a little and started walking to the door.

“Go on! Change already. We can catch up later.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

She’d already shut the door behind her. He took off the jacket and gathered it in his arms. He couldn’t believe he’d worn it. He smiled. This was how things were now. This was how it felt to need a new jacket.

“I like your suit,” Mel said.

“I like your dress. A lot.”

It was blue and shiny and ran down to her calves. She was wearing heels and they made her almost as tall as him. Her shoulders looked tanner than he thought they would. She must have sun bathed at home.

They walked to his car from her office. They were already in the car when he realized his mistake.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“I forgot. You’re supposed to open the door for the woman.”

She laughed and looked at him.

“You’re such a gentleman.”

“It’s because I’ve never driven.”

“Jake, should you be telling me you’ve never driven?”

“No, no. I’ve driven. But I didn’t have a car in New York. And then I came down here and had to get one. So I’ve never driven as an adult.”

“You’ve driven here as an adult, haven’t you?”

“I meant…” He looked at her and waved his right arm. “I meant I’ve never driven on a date.”

He could feel himself blushing and thought she would too. She started laughing.

“Jake, do you have a tag on your sleeve?”

He thought he’d removed all of them. He was wrong.

“Do I?”

“Yes, right here,” she said and grabbed it. He lifted his hand off the wheel.

“It must be from the dry-cleaners.”

“No, it looks new.”

“Right.” They were on the highway. He tried to make it seem like he needed to pay attention. It didn’t work.

“Is this a new suit?”

“Yeah.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Just for this?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On what?”

“On how you look at it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got it today. But I’ve needed one for a while.”

She let go of the tag and put her hand around his wrist. She squeezed it and let go. The smell of her perfume mixed with the air freshener’s pine. It smelled like a season they didn’t have in Sarasota.