Symphony

Chapter I

James Corey Williams used to say that the day he married Caroline was the second best day of his life- the top spot being, of course, the recent birth of their beautiful baby boy, Adam. Those two moments were the beacons that guided his life.

He liked this phrase because, in addition to being cute and romantic, it also happened to be true. If there was one thing James Corey Williams abhorred was lying- partly because it always made him feel a terrible shame, and partly because he was so bad at it; so the phrase was a good one. Nothing in it was patently false. It wasn't, however, the whole truth.

No, if ever he would allow the entire truth to manifest, the phrase would sound something like: “the day he married Caroline was the second best day of his life- the top spot being, of course, the recent birth of their beautiful baby boy, Adam. Those two moments were the beacons that guided his life through a sea of dull, metallic gray that weighed on him and ground his spirit little by little"

He loved his wife. This was also true, so he said it often. But he wasn't in love with his wife, and hadn't been for a long, long time. If anything, the relationship made him feel as if he was in a cave, or a series of suffocating tunnels through which he crawled and crawled. Her unusual absences were the sun breaking through the stone ceiling every now and then. During those moments, James could be himself, not just the loving husband. He could eat what he wanted, watch what he wanted, dream what he wanted. These small spaces were all that were keeping him relatively sane.

Adam had not helped matters. Aside from terminating what little sex life the couple had, the tiny bundle of joy had also wrecked their sleep schedule, mood, and general energy. He loved Adam; or at least, he supposed he did. He felt... something, anyway. It had to be parental love, he guessed. It was hard, however, to love someone that hasn't yet developed a personality. Sometimes, in the deep of yet another sleepless night, a notion attempted to crawl into his head- but he wouldn't give it an inch. It was an idea too taboo, too terrible to contemplate. And yet, if he were being honest with himself, James Corey Williams would have to admit that a part of him regretted having had a kid.

This was something he quickly determined to bury deep, and take to the grave unsaid.

Let us consider the importance of seemingly insignificant matters. Let's imagine a cat, playing with a set of keys until they end up under the couch. The next morning, its owner looks for the keys in desperation, and finally finds them only to realize he's running late. He speeds through the streets, careless in his anger. His boss texts him. He looks down at his phone for a second -just a second- and hits an old woman, killing her. Who is to blame? The cat? The man? The boss? All? None?

A similar set of questions might be raised about poor James Corey Williams, for he began his fall, as is usual, with the best of intentions. Bored at work, an article caught his eye. Ten things to keep your relationship healthy. He wanted a good relationship. He wanted to make it all better. So he took note of the first piece of advice in the column: go on date nights. He could do that, he thought. Take Caroline to a nice dinner, or a film... hell, it might even revive something of their erotic spark.

That choice sent him down the terrible, exciting and twisting path to damnation, for one simple, seemingly innocent reason.

Obviously, they would have to hire a babysitter.