The Narcissist
by Nyla Hubbard
His feet hurt. Congenital structure problems followed by too many years standing on them and the arches had given way. He had finally seen a doctor years ago but the custom orthotics he needed cost $400 which his chintzy insurance wouldn’t cover. And there never seemed to be an extra $400 left from his paycheck. So, his feet still hurt. The difference now was in his tolerance. He was tired of hurting and tired of struggling. Daniel heaved himself from one raised bed to another. It was very early, not yet 6 AM. This was his time, when she was safely sleeping, when he could tend his vegetables and take pride in his harvest.
The pride was eluding him today, however. When he had built the beds, laboriously building the forms, hauling in dirt, enriching the soil, he visualized cooking healthy meals which he and Chloe would enjoy together. That dream was fading. Last night, Chloe had not touched one vegetable that he had so lovingly prepared. “Mom doesn’t eat them,” she’d said. His glance had gone to Tia who shrugged and smiled. He didn’t miss the self-satisfied expression. She actually took pride in having the world’s worst eating habits.
Dan had not said a word. It was always a delicate balance trying to encourage Chloe to eat properly without drawing attention to the weight she had gained through not doing so. He suffered for her, knowing what the other kids would say about her in future if they weren’t doing so already. She was twelve now, a pre-teen and at least twenty pounds overweight. It galled him to remember how Tia had vowed that she would not allow her daughter to be fat. He had wondered, even then, how she planned to keep that vow.
Nothing was different. Tia found motherhood to be unexpected work. Daniel had to leave before she did in the morning, so it was left to her to feed the child and Tia found it too much trouble to come up with anything more challenging than toaster pastries and Pop-tarts. When he pointed out the calories, she simply said, “She likes them,” and the pounds piled on. In his absence, when meals were not forthcoming, snacks were the answer. Of course, he hadn’t wanted to deny her, but he had limited the quantity by putting the chips in a paper cup. Tia handed her the bag. It was habit now, mother and child downing a supersize bag while the veggies went begging.
It was time for work. The bait shop was busy on the weekends. He enjoyed talking to the fishermen in this second job though he would have enjoyed going fishing himself more. That was another thing he’s hoped to share with his daughter, but Tia would insist on taking Chloe shopping on a Saturday. And Chloe would go, she would please her mother.
The car was slow to crank. He supposed he would have to put a new battery in his father-in-law’s car. The better car, the one they were still making payments on, was Tia’s. Daniel had wanted to buy a used car for her and another for him, something dependable, but Daddy’s princess wanted a new car and Tia’s father had insisted that they buy her one, then thrown Daniel this rust bucket to get him back and forth to work. The car wasn’t in his name, of course, just like the house.
It had seemed like a reasonable thing to do when they first married. Her parents lived elsewhere, and their house was for rent. Now, twenty years had gone by, with Daniel working two jobs, and Daniel still lived in a house that did not belong to him. How had all this happened? Tia had been a cute girl, even if a little plump and he didn’t feel like he had much to offer, given the condition of his feet. He’d been the first boyfriend and, before he knew it, a husband, and a son-in-law; owned lock, stock, and barrel.
It hadn’t mattered at first. Tia had always been a shopaholic, spending every cent she made along with much of what he earned but, before Chloe, he hadn’t cared so much. Now, he saw a future for Chloe that made him groan. The subliminal message was getting through to Chloe. It’s Mommy that matters. Just look at how Grandpa and Grandma and Daddy spoil her. She says she is a princess, and I am a princess in waiting. Nothing was too good for Mommy.
When Daniel entered the house that afternoon, it was empty. No doubt, Tia would come home with numerous bags, proudly displaying her most recent purchases. He was amazed at how little she got for the money she spent until he realized that she took pride in overpaying. It was another validation of her worth, that she could afford to pay too much. What he didn’t understand is how little she bought for Chloe. When she was pregnant, she had so wanted a girl, “a little girl,” she said, “I can dress her, and we’ll have so much fun.” The fact was, Chloe got clothes when it was time for back-to-school and only then.
Before he could even take his shoes off, he smelled the dog shit. Not their dog. Oh, no, it was the in-law’s dog, which they had been “watching” now for almost a year, a really stupid dog that might have been trainable at one time, but which was now hopeless since Tia refused to take her out and he was not at home enough to provide continuity.
There it was in the living room, slimy dog doo, not confined to the floor. Some was on the rug, but the rug was hopeless anyway. Multiple stains, insufficient cleanup. Tia did not clean anything. If she was forced, through lack of clothes, to stuff laundry into the machine, it was never put away. And this load was no exception. She had carelessly tossed a fresh load onto the couch, and it had spilled over. The dog had decided to deposit a dump, not on Tia’s clothes, he noticed. Even the dog knew Tia was special. The shit was on Chloe’s clothes, and it would be Chloe who would clean it up unless he did it himself, of course. Daniel dropped into a chair. Nearly fifty years old and he owned nothing that was not tied to a thoroughly selfish, lazy narcissist. She hadn’t washed any of his clothes, he noticed.
Daniel put a pot on for the greens he had cut. He would eat them if no one else did. His phone rang. “Go to the butcher and get some steak. Oh, and a loaded baked potato.” she told him.
“Good God, Tia, can’t you eat something else for a change?” he tried saying, but all he got was a hang up.
After the food run, Daniel stood at the sink, or rather leaned on it to assuage his feet. He was preparing the food when he heard her arrive. “Daniel, the dog has messed in here,” she hollered. Tia didn’t use profanity. She prided herself on being a good Christian. “Why haven’t you cleaned this up?”
“It’s not my dog,” he answered. She came barreling into the kitchen, all 250 pounds of her.
“Well, I’m not touching that,” she said with the toss of her head.
“I guess it will stay there, then,” he said.
Chloe came into the room with paper towels. “It’s gross, Dad,” she mumbled.
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he told his daughter. She just shrugged, and his heart broke.
They only went scalloping once a year, Dan’s family outing. Tia only tolerated his family when they were doing something for her. In twenty years, she had never invited his parents for a meal. Actually, she had never cooked a meal. Today would be no different. He and his family would dive, they would get the scallops. They would carry them home. Last year, Daniel’s mother had pointed out to Tia that she saw pain in Daniel’s face as he hefted the heavy buckets. Tia had answered with a dismissive, “Well, I guess he’s used to it.”
At home, Tia would go directly inside while the rest of the family cleaned the scallops and prepared the meal. She would not move until her plate was ready to be filled and then she would eat little. It wasn’t steak.
Daniel had looked forward to teaching Chloe to dive. Today, he was the first out of the boat and encouraged her to join him in the water. She did try but the potato chips had increased her buoyancy until she had to work hard to dive. She seemed to be having fun, though, until she heard her mother call, “Chloe, get in here and fix these sandwiches. Your dad was too cheap to get the readymade.” Daniel watched Chloe as she began to take off her fins and her mask.
“Why can’t you fix the sandwiches, Tia?” he asked reasonably, “Chloe is diving.”
Tia’s incensed face appeared over the gunnel of the boat. "Did I ask you what you thought about it?”
Daniel watched helplessly as Chloe maneuvered around her mother’s float, which was tied off the transom. They all hated that float, an inflatable raft of epic proportions. Tia said she needed the float to help her get in and out of the water. But she hadn’t been in the water and the float was forever in the way. They all had to push and shove the float and it’s mooring ropes around whenever they needed to dump their catch. Tia even refused to have the tether lines shortened. “It won’t be in the way if I float out beyond the boat, “she insisted. But she hadn’t floated out and the current was strong. It held the float against the transom, sometimes even forcing it under the boat. No amount of complaint fazed Tia.
“If Chloe’s going to make sandwiches, it’s time you came in the water,” he said.
For once, his brother, who often said he had “holes in his tongue” from biting back comments about Tia, spoke up. “Yes, if you don’t come up with at least one scallop, you don’t get to eat any.” Everyone stared until Tia felt forced to respond.
“I’m hot, anyway,” she declared and began the cumbersome process of getting onto her float.
“Lying on the float isn’t going to make you any cooler,” Daniel told her. “Come into the water with me.” Ignored, he continued to dive. Freed from the agony of his feet, he could stay down far longer than the others. His upper body was strong. He felt almost young when he was in the water.
“I don’t have to get any scallops, you know,” he heard Tia say as he surfaced. “That’s what I’ve got you for.”
Yes, he thought. That’s what I am, a servant. And when my feet can’t do it anymore, my daughter will be her servant next. Smiling grimly, Daniel pulled her off the float. She shrieked but he told her good-naturedly, “You have to admit that the water feels good.”
Tia brushed her wet hair out of her face, “You’ll pay for that.”
It was the look that did it. The other divers were down, and Chloe was busy with the sandwiches. He dove, pulling her and the raft with him until they were directly under the boat. It was in shadow under there and any noise she made as she thrashed was muffled by the sound of the waves against the hull. The buoyancy of the raft kept it pressed firmly against the bottom of the boat. He waited until she was still before he grabbed the mooring line of the float and wound it around her so that she floated “accidentally” tethered. Then he quickly grabbed some scallops. He dumped his catch into the bucket, then asked, “Where’s Tia?”
The pride was eluding him today, however. When he had built the beds, laboriously building the forms, hauling in dirt, enriching the soil, he visualized cooking healthy meals which he and Chloe would enjoy together. That dream was fading. Last night, Chloe had not touched one vegetable that he had so lovingly prepared. “Mom doesn’t eat them,” she’d said. His glance had gone to Tia who shrugged and smiled. He didn’t miss the self-satisfied expression. She actually took pride in having the world’s worst eating habits.
Dan had not said a word. It was always a delicate balance trying to encourage Chloe to eat properly without drawing attention to the weight she had gained through not doing so. He suffered for her, knowing what the other kids would say about her in future if they weren’t doing so already. She was twelve now, a pre-teen and at least twenty pounds overweight. It galled him to remember how Tia had vowed that she would not allow her daughter to be fat. He had wondered, even then, how she planned to keep that vow.
Nothing was different. Tia found motherhood to be unexpected work. Daniel had to leave before she did in the morning, so it was left to her to feed the child and Tia found it too much trouble to come up with anything more challenging than toaster pastries and Pop-tarts. When he pointed out the calories, she simply said, “She likes them,” and the pounds piled on. In his absence, when meals were not forthcoming, snacks were the answer. Of course, he hadn’t wanted to deny her, but he had limited the quantity by putting the chips in a paper cup. Tia handed her the bag. It was habit now, mother and child downing a supersize bag while the veggies went begging.
It was time for work. The bait shop was busy on the weekends. He enjoyed talking to the fishermen in this second job though he would have enjoyed going fishing himself more. That was another thing he’s hoped to share with his daughter, but Tia would insist on taking Chloe shopping on a Saturday. And Chloe would go, she would please her mother.
The car was slow to crank. He supposed he would have to put a new battery in his father-in-law’s car. The better car, the one they were still making payments on, was Tia’s. Daniel had wanted to buy a used car for her and another for him, something dependable, but Daddy’s princess wanted a new car and Tia’s father had insisted that they buy her one, then thrown Daniel this rust bucket to get him back and forth to work. The car wasn’t in his name, of course, just like the house.
It had seemed like a reasonable thing to do when they first married. Her parents lived elsewhere, and their house was for rent. Now, twenty years had gone by, with Daniel working two jobs, and Daniel still lived in a house that did not belong to him. How had all this happened? Tia had been a cute girl, even if a little plump and he didn’t feel like he had much to offer, given the condition of his feet. He’d been the first boyfriend and, before he knew it, a husband, and a son-in-law; owned lock, stock, and barrel.
It hadn’t mattered at first. Tia had always been a shopaholic, spending every cent she made along with much of what he earned but, before Chloe, he hadn’t cared so much. Now, he saw a future for Chloe that made him groan. The subliminal message was getting through to Chloe. It’s Mommy that matters. Just look at how Grandpa and Grandma and Daddy spoil her. She says she is a princess, and I am a princess in waiting. Nothing was too good for Mommy.
When Daniel entered the house that afternoon, it was empty. No doubt, Tia would come home with numerous bags, proudly displaying her most recent purchases. He was amazed at how little she got for the money she spent until he realized that she took pride in overpaying. It was another validation of her worth, that she could afford to pay too much. What he didn’t understand is how little she bought for Chloe. When she was pregnant, she had so wanted a girl, “a little girl,” she said, “I can dress her, and we’ll have so much fun.” The fact was, Chloe got clothes when it was time for back-to-school and only then.
Before he could even take his shoes off, he smelled the dog shit. Not their dog. Oh, no, it was the in-law’s dog, which they had been “watching” now for almost a year, a really stupid dog that might have been trainable at one time, but which was now hopeless since Tia refused to take her out and he was not at home enough to provide continuity.
There it was in the living room, slimy dog doo, not confined to the floor. Some was on the rug, but the rug was hopeless anyway. Multiple stains, insufficient cleanup. Tia did not clean anything. If she was forced, through lack of clothes, to stuff laundry into the machine, it was never put away. And this load was no exception. She had carelessly tossed a fresh load onto the couch, and it had spilled over. The dog had decided to deposit a dump, not on Tia’s clothes, he noticed. Even the dog knew Tia was special. The shit was on Chloe’s clothes, and it would be Chloe who would clean it up unless he did it himself, of course. Daniel dropped into a chair. Nearly fifty years old and he owned nothing that was not tied to a thoroughly selfish, lazy narcissist. She hadn’t washed any of his clothes, he noticed.
Daniel put a pot on for the greens he had cut. He would eat them if no one else did. His phone rang. “Go to the butcher and get some steak. Oh, and a loaded baked potato.” she told him.
“Good God, Tia, can’t you eat something else for a change?” he tried saying, but all he got was a hang up.
After the food run, Daniel stood at the sink, or rather leaned on it to assuage his feet. He was preparing the food when he heard her arrive. “Daniel, the dog has messed in here,” she hollered. Tia didn’t use profanity. She prided herself on being a good Christian. “Why haven’t you cleaned this up?”
“It’s not my dog,” he answered. She came barreling into the kitchen, all 250 pounds of her.
“Well, I’m not touching that,” she said with the toss of her head.
“I guess it will stay there, then,” he said.
Chloe came into the room with paper towels. “It’s gross, Dad,” she mumbled.
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he told his daughter. She just shrugged, and his heart broke.
They only went scalloping once a year, Dan’s family outing. Tia only tolerated his family when they were doing something for her. In twenty years, she had never invited his parents for a meal. Actually, she had never cooked a meal. Today would be no different. He and his family would dive, they would get the scallops. They would carry them home. Last year, Daniel’s mother had pointed out to Tia that she saw pain in Daniel’s face as he hefted the heavy buckets. Tia had answered with a dismissive, “Well, I guess he’s used to it.”
At home, Tia would go directly inside while the rest of the family cleaned the scallops and prepared the meal. She would not move until her plate was ready to be filled and then she would eat little. It wasn’t steak.
Daniel had looked forward to teaching Chloe to dive. Today, he was the first out of the boat and encouraged her to join him in the water. She did try but the potato chips had increased her buoyancy until she had to work hard to dive. She seemed to be having fun, though, until she heard her mother call, “Chloe, get in here and fix these sandwiches. Your dad was too cheap to get the readymade.” Daniel watched Chloe as she began to take off her fins and her mask.
“Why can’t you fix the sandwiches, Tia?” he asked reasonably, “Chloe is diving.”
Tia’s incensed face appeared over the gunnel of the boat. "Did I ask you what you thought about it?”
Daniel watched helplessly as Chloe maneuvered around her mother’s float, which was tied off the transom. They all hated that float, an inflatable raft of epic proportions. Tia said she needed the float to help her get in and out of the water. But she hadn’t been in the water and the float was forever in the way. They all had to push and shove the float and it’s mooring ropes around whenever they needed to dump their catch. Tia even refused to have the tether lines shortened. “It won’t be in the way if I float out beyond the boat, “she insisted. But she hadn’t floated out and the current was strong. It held the float against the transom, sometimes even forcing it under the boat. No amount of complaint fazed Tia.
“If Chloe’s going to make sandwiches, it’s time you came in the water,” he said.
For once, his brother, who often said he had “holes in his tongue” from biting back comments about Tia, spoke up. “Yes, if you don’t come up with at least one scallop, you don’t get to eat any.” Everyone stared until Tia felt forced to respond.
“I’m hot, anyway,” she declared and began the cumbersome process of getting onto her float.
“Lying on the float isn’t going to make you any cooler,” Daniel told her. “Come into the water with me.” Ignored, he continued to dive. Freed from the agony of his feet, he could stay down far longer than the others. His upper body was strong. He felt almost young when he was in the water.
“I don’t have to get any scallops, you know,” he heard Tia say as he surfaced. “That’s what I’ve got you for.”
Yes, he thought. That’s what I am, a servant. And when my feet can’t do it anymore, my daughter will be her servant next. Smiling grimly, Daniel pulled her off the float. She shrieked but he told her good-naturedly, “You have to admit that the water feels good.”
Tia brushed her wet hair out of her face, “You’ll pay for that.”
It was the look that did it. The other divers were down, and Chloe was busy with the sandwiches. He dove, pulling her and the raft with him until they were directly under the boat. It was in shadow under there and any noise she made as she thrashed was muffled by the sound of the waves against the hull. The buoyancy of the raft kept it pressed firmly against the bottom of the boat. He waited until she was still before he grabbed the mooring line of the float and wound it around her so that she floated “accidentally” tethered. Then he quickly grabbed some scallops. He dumped his catch into the bucket, then asked, “Where’s Tia?”
Nyla Hubbard has sold two books in the past, both non-fiction. One was a memoir of her mission with Doctors without Borders entitled Doctors without Borders in Ethiopia, published by Algora. The second was called The Rape of the American Working Woman, also published by Algora. This is her first foray into fiction. She loves edgy stories about people who overcome and the husband in this story does just that.