The Sea Goat: A Short Story

“Criterion Channel and Chill?”

“We do that all the time! Let’s do something different tonight, baby.”

“I think we have a lovely evening planned. Sit under the super full moon. Eat duck stew and riz de chou-fleur. A good film. My arms around you. Bed.”
“By bed you mean sex.”

“Course. Don’t make me out to be a caveman, darling. I’ve had a long day at work. I still need to put in two more hours. Then I’m home with you. It all sounds very comforting to me. How’s the stew coming along?”

“It’s prepared. What movie do you wanna watch tonight, baby?”

“La peau douce.”

“Not another Truffaut!”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“We watched Two English Girls yesterday!”

“You’re cute.”

“Come on.”

“Alright, alright. I call a truce, darling. You cooked the food. You choose the film.”

“Edvard Munch by Peter Watkins.”

“Oh, honey. Really? Fine.”

“It’s a great watch.”

“It’s a stiff psychological portrait of a tortured artist. Bergmanesque. A great watch if you go in for that sort of thing. Swedish Art house and bloated silences on screen. A little heavy on the voice over, don’t you find?”

“Don’t put it down. You’ve never seen it.”

“Touché. I’ve gotta go, darling. Kisses?”

“Muah! Muah! Muah!”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha! I love it when you do that. Later, darling. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…

“Charles!”

“Just a minute, darling.”

“Charles, I’ve been waiting. Cease your work. I thought you promised me that you shan’t be bringing work home with you. It’s most unfair, you know.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“You’re staring at your screen.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Let’s go up to the roof.”

“Oh, honey. The moon isn’t hurrying anywhere, you know.”

“Oh yes, she is! Let’s go!”

…

“You know Charles, I always feel funny on a full moon.”

“How do you mean, darling?”

“Oh, I dunno. Like…”

“Ha, ha. I think I ken your meaning.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“Well! Your hands are placed rather suggestively.”

“I was giving myself a belly rub.”

“Underneath your skirt?”

“Yes!”

“Alright. How do you feel?”

“You know something? Nurses tend to schedule vacation days on full moons.”

“Why?”

“The emergency rooms are always swamped.”

“Really? Hmm.”

“Weird, eh? The full moon does things to people. Some become sick, some become accident-prone, most are restless. We all wanna howl at the moon. Instead, we groan on a sofa. I’m surprised more people aren’t out here to see this. We met on a full moon.”

“Did we?”

“Yeah. It was winter.”

“I remember that.”

“The moon was in Cancer. The Sun was in the Sign of the Sea Goat.”

“Was it now?”

“Yes, Charles.”

“I remember that night. Meeting you. Intense. All I wanted to do was – ”

“Take me home.”

“Is that bad?”

“I dunno. When a man is like that with a woman, she thinks he wants only one thing.”

“Well, turns out I wanted many several things. It’s our four-year anniversary in September, darling. We’re still together.”

“I can’t believe we’re married.”

“I knew I was going to marry you the second I saw you.”

“Oh please, Charles.”

“You believe in astrology, yet you deny me my precognition. It turns out I was right. Love at first sight.”

“I don’t think it was your precognition. I think it was your prick.”

“Well! My prick and my precognition agreed. Remember the first time?”

“My God. You were an animal. You still are.”

“You wouldn’t kiss me for weeks. Playing hard to get. How quaint.”

“No. I wasn’t playing at anything. I really did not trust you, Charles. I thought you were a cad, a rake, and a bastard.”

“Wow.”

“I wasn’t going to open my heart or my legs to you.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing sudden. You were so patient. And I thought…maybe he likes me.”

“I was frigging day and night, darling. Twice on our date nights. Just to be sure there wasn’t a possibility of a stiff one.”

“Well…glad you kept that all to yourself.”

“What changed?”

“That night?”

“Yah. Why that night?”

“Can you remember what else we did that night?”

“We did a lot of things.”

“I had you come over.”

“Right. It was my second time at your flat.”

“The first time we had tea.”

“You did a portrait of me.”

“It was a Saturday afternoon.”

“Yah. Right.”

“The second time you were there, Charles, it was night. I prepared a curry.”

“Yes. You cooked for me. That meant you liked me.”

“Call me old-fashioned but I believe that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“And his cock, darling. You musn’t forget that.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Idiot.”

“I remember that night, darling. I close my eyes and I can still see your flat. The white walls. The books on the shelves. The little dining table. The bright neon candles. The food was incredible. The feel of the soft, pink sheepskin on the sofa. And that film.”

“Closer.”

“God, I loved it. Intense. Raw. Like my love for you. When the film was over. I got up to leave. I remember thanking you and putting on my coat. Then you got silent.”

“I asked you to stay. You took off your parka. We sat on the sofa. I didn’t know what to say.”

“I began to kiss your neck. Then my hands were inside your cardigan.”

“Our clothes were on the floor. And it started on the sofa.”

“We finished it in bed. But it was long before it was over.”

…

“Delicious! Pass the bread, darling.”

“Here.”

“Thanks. This might be your best stew yet.”

“Aw! Thanks babe.”

“Mm.”

“Babe?”

“Yah?”

“Did the full moon make you feel funny?”

“How do you mean, darling?”

“Do you feel different?”

“Not particularly. It was beautiful. Close to earth. Large in the sky.”

“Luna under the aegis of the Sea Goat. Full moon in Capricorn. I should have asked you to recite Sir Phillip Sidney’s ‘Sonnet to the Moon.’”

“Why the devil would I do that?”

“Because I love your accent and the moon would to.”

“Ha, ha, ha! You’re adorable. You know, darling, I much prefer your poem to the moon. Mmm…How does it go again. She causes surges in the soul and sea – ”

“Mm-mm. No, babe…”

“Well, recite it, darling.”

“She causes surges in the Soul,

Surges in the Sea,

Surges in Men,

Makes them explode their semen.

She.

Madness-making, the Silvern Woman.

A balance of Light and Night.

Pretty, Evil, Round-faced, Bright.

“Brilliant.”

“Thank you, baby!”

“Is that how you see the moon?”

“Would you like some more riz de chou-fleur?”

“Yes, darling. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Uh… yeah. I find the moon really eerie. Maybe it’s a woman thing. My cycle syncs up with the moon’s. When I start bleeding on a new moon, it feels like an intense psychic shed, you know. A deep emotional rebirth. When I’m ovulating on a full moon…well, you know.”

“Do I?”

“Oh yes, baby. I come on to you. Strong.”

“Hang on…the Sunday we went to Blink for Eugene’s show.”

“Bingo.”

“My God! You were pawing me all night in your skimpy little dress. I thought you had snorted something with Sandrine in the lavatory. I had to look up your nose to make bloody sure she hadn’t given you anything.”

“When we got home…”

“Epic.”

“Luna and the Lunatics who love her.”

“Maddened by the Moon.”

“Your moon is in the sign of Capricorn.”

“Is it, darling? I thought that was my sun sign.”

“Your Sun and your moon are in the sign of Capricorn, Charles. You were born under a dark moon.”

“Well, that explains a lot.”

“I think it makes you très sexy.”

“Oh, does it?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’m glad I can tickle your astrological fancy once in a blue moon. Bedtime?”

“No! Movie time! We’re watching Edvard Munch by Peter Watkins.”

“Oh, right.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Charles.”

“Oh, darling, it’s been a long day. It simply slipped my mind. I’m happy to watch, Edvard Munch by er…Peter…”

“Watkins!”

“Sure! Let’s go to the sitting room, darling.”

“You go, I need to clear up.”

“Thank you for dinner, my darling. Kisses?”

“Muah! Muah! Muah!”

“Ha, ha, ha! I love it when you do that.”

…

“Alright, baby! Dim the lights. I’m so excited about this film.”

“Yah. Me too.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Charles. I saw you roll your eyes.”

“Oh, darling, come here. Come to me. Come to your Capricornian Chuck!”

“Ha, ha, ha! What? Scooch over, wierdo!”

“Sit on me.”

“Charles, you really don’t want to see this film, do you?”

“Well, it is rather late, darling. I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday tomorrow, Charles! And you promised we would go out for pancakes, then go to the Butterfly Conservatory, then go to the English garden.”

“Yes, yes, darling. That’s exactly why I needs must wake up early. I have a meeting – ”

“Oh bother! Workaholic.”

“Well, my workaholism is what’s keeping you in pretty dresses, darling. In case you don’t know, you’re rather expensive.”

“Don’t turn this back on me, Charles! You’re a workaholic because you can’t bear the thought of your emotional depths. You avoid the churning of the subconscious sea inside you by turning to your latest effort at socio-economic supremacy.”

“What?”

“You heard me! I’m going to bed.”

“What about the film, darling? You were rather keen to watch it.”

“Oh, screw you! You don’t care about the film. You were just humoring me so we could fuck before bed.”

“Why are you hostile to me, honey? I’ve been up since six this morning. I’m beat. Yah, I want sex. I want to feel good, don’t you? Tell me the truth, darling. Why is it important that I see this film with you?

“It’s not important. You don’t have to see it. I’m interested in Munch right now. He’s influencing my paintings.”

“Alright. You were home all day. You could have seen it. You want to share it with me. What exactly is it, darling? Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“No. No, it’s not. Not if you’re…upset. I’m willing to discuss this. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

…

“It makes no sense, Charles.”

“Tell me. I’ll try to sense your meaning subconsciously. Begin with a word. Any word.”

“Sea Goat.”

“Alright.”

“Jack.”

“Jack?! Your ex.”

“Well…he isn’t really my ex.”

“You dated him!”

“I never slept with him.”

“Alright. Jack. What about him?”

“Can you recall his face?”

“Yah. Vaguely.”

“Do you remember it?”

“Why would I? I’m not interested in him, and I’ve never met the chap.”

“I’ve shown you a picture.”

“A while ago, I suppose.”

“Here.”

“When did you take this polaroid?”

“Last week.”

“What?”

“I met him.”

“Where?”

“First, I met him at the park. He was walking his dog. He had moved away to Alberta. Settled there permanently, I was sure. But he said he had moved back and was living downtown.”

“Then you met him again?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Here.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”

“Does he look like anyone you know?”

“No. What? Why the hell are you crying?”

“Because you can’t see.”

“See what?”

“You.”

“Alright, darling. I’m done talking in circles. Dizzy, in fact. Do you have something to confess? You’re carrying on in a bizarre manner and quite frankly it’s beginning to bore me.”

“He looks like you.”

“What? This? I look nothing like him. You don’t need to show me more photographs. How many photographs did you take of him? How long was he here? Did you fuck him?!”

“No!”

“Then what the bloody hell are you on about?!”

“Munch. Look at him. Look at this picture of him. And this one when he was younger. Does he remind you of anyone? Does he look like anyone you know?”

“I see a bit of myself in him. The small eyes. The jawline. So what?”

“Look at this picture of Jack.”

“Alright. We both look a little like Munch. And?”

“Look at this man.”

“Who is that?”

“A writer.”

“Okay. I look like him.”

“And look at this man. He’s a composer.”

“Alright! We all look alike! Are you inching towards an hypothesis here?”

“I checked all their astrological signs. Each man has either his sun or his moon in the sign of Capricorn.”

“And somehow, this has turned you into a madwoman. Why?”

“Because you all look like the Sea Goat. Saturn as the sign of Capricorn.”

“Oh, darling. I don’t know if I can help you. If you’re spiraling…I can’t”

“I was mad with desire for Jack. I was nineteen and he was twenty. Just his face filled me up with love and lust. I wanted him. But we couldn’t be together. Then he moved away.”

“Why couldn’t you be together?”

“We couldn’t have sex. I was so scared, my cunt clamped shut.”

“Alright.”

“Then three years later I meet you. And you looked just like him. Like my Saturnine dream. And you opened me up. And I was glad because your face made me feel things. Deep things. Dark things. But I was still yearning. Yearning for someone. Then I saw this image of Munch. A photograph and there he was.”

“Who?”

“My Animus. The man I’ve been searching for in every Capricorn. When I saw Jack again. It felt like an attack. My heart, my head. A rush of love to my brain. It hurt.”

“You fucked him. Did you fuck him?! I can’t believe it, you – ”

“I didn’t fuck him! Stop shouting! I didn’t! I thought about it. But I would never do that! I would never do that, Charles.”

“Why do you need Jack or Munch? You have me. Your Sea Goat. Your Capricorn. Why are you bringing them up?”

“Because they can see the darkness inside themselves. You can’t see you.”

“Oh, God. Another tirade about my so-called emotional unintelligence and workaholism. I don’t have time for this. Rather intriguing segue into your favourite rant. You had me mystified at first until I realized it’s the same old route and it’s the same old end. Screaming at the top of our lungs at 2:00AM. Well, darling, not tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To a hotel!”

“Please.”

“Don’t. Don’t, darling. I can’t do this tonight. I told you I have to wake up early for a zoom meeting and you do this?”

“Why do you run away into your work?”

“I said, I’m not doing this.”

“You’re hurting me!”

“Then stop latching on!”

“Charles! I feel so alone in our marriage sometimes. Why do you love us less than you do work?”

“I find it irritating. Your woolly words. Your manipulations. Trying to get a rise out of me by bringing Jack up. Was he even here? Let me see these photographs. Didn’t you take these years ago? Did you make up the whole story of meeting him so we could have a talk about my work? Are you mad?”

“I did see him.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, Charles. Believe what you like.”

“The Sea Goat. My God. When I met you, I knew you were mad. But that was alright. You were a poet. Giving to airy nothing a local habitation and a name is the name of the game. So, I tolerate your insanity. But you’ve pushed me too far tonight, darling. What is this darkness in my soul that obsesses you, that intrigues you, that wets you? Clearly you like it. You’re drawn to me. Hm? The Sea Goat. Half goat, half fish. One part of me climbs the craggy mountain of the social ladder, the other half swims in the subconscious sea. I’m a lustful goat. Yes, you say I’m more caveman than gentleman. I want sex every night. I’m a cold fish. I can’t share my feelings with you. I keep them bottled in. You want to make love. I want to fuck. Rough. I’m terrified of what lies beneath me in the dark waters of my soul. So, I climb higher and higher but no matter how high I reach I remain half-fish. Still in water. Cold. Alone.”
“I love you, Charles. I can’t change the way you are. I know. All I ask is that you whisper to me the words sometimes, ‘I’m afraid,’ ‘I need you,’ ‘hold me.’ That’s so much more nuanced than ‘take your clothes off, darling, and let’s fuck.’ I don’t fear the depths of your pain and sorrow. I want to know you. I want you to share with me. I want to be by your side as you swim the subconscious sea.”

“Why didn’t you just say this, darling? Why the whole charade?”

“I didn’t know I had something to say. There was a stirring in my soul and in my sex. As we lay under the full moon, I placed my hand on my womb. And I felt so strange. I knew something was going to happen, a subtle, yet wonderful change.”