June 26th, 2024

"Don’t listen to me, nothing I say means anything."

Artwork by Walden Green

"Welp," said Charles, "I guess this is the end of our relationship."

"Welp?" I said.

No, I did not say that.

I said, "Fuck you, Charles! After eight years?"

No, I didn’t.

I said (to the waitress), "We’ll split the rabbit."

No. I ordered the grilled cheese.

Except what Charles actually said was, "I think we should get married. Do you want to?"

And I said, "Sure" or "Yes" or "All right, Charles, you win."

I can hardly remember, but I think it went like that.

In no time we stood at one of those altar things.

It was an altar, I mean, definitely.

In a bonafide church. (It’s a blur: could have been a temple.)

And it was corny, I mean lovely, I mean unforgettable in one way or another. The slant of the light, etc. I’m still working out exactly what it was.

The priest, rabbi, justice of the peace, did his whole routine about lawnmowers and red-assed baboons and the cosmos.

He said, "Do you two morons feel up to the concept known as holy matrimony?"

He pointed down the aisle at the exit and said, "Last copter out of Saigon…"

No, he didn’t. He talked about love, devotion, companionship. He made it sound real nice.

And I—don’t quote me on this—I’m pretty sure I said "I do."

He said, "Do you two morons feel up to the concept known as holy matrimony?"

Then I was at the hospital dying of cancer. No, I wasn’t. I was having a baby.

"This hurts," I said.

"It doesn’t," said Charles. "It’s just fine."

No, he didn’t, he grimaced and looked scared.

Then another person came screaming into the world.

And I said, "Kid, you’re not ready for this."

I said, "Shove him back up there, guys!"

No, I lay back and cried a little.

The kid said, "Jesus Christ, calm down, Mom."

He said, "Thanks a lot, you shrieking harpy, for the agony of existence."

(I’m joking, that came later.)

He wailed unintelligibly, of course, and who could blame him?

The kid started talking himself before long.

His first word was "juice," but I told people it was "fascist" lobbed at Charles.

I told people it was "photosynthesis," "caviar," "Robespierre."

I told people it was the phrase "unbridled joy" and I couldn’t imagine where he might have learned it.

I told a room of young mothers that his first word was "cunt" and not one person laughed.

I told people it was the phrase "unbridled joy" and I couldn’t imagine where he might have learned it.

Then the kid was grown and it was Charles in the hospital having a baby.

No, he wasn’t. He was dying of cancer.

"I’m dying," said Charles.

"You’re not," I said. "You’re just fine."

Which was a lie, but I said it anyway.

Charles said, "I never cared for you. Our lives have been nothing much."

Unless he said the opposite. It’s difficult to keep straight.

I was alone after that.

But it was okay because I had my gardening.

No, I didn’t, but I had my tennis.

No, I didn’t, but I had my television.

I had my phone.

I called my kid and said, "Everything is great."

And he said, "Really?"

And I said, "No, it isn’t."

I said, "Don’t listen to me, nothing I say means anything."

That’s not true. I’d never say that.

"Fall asleep with a pen in your hand, whispering."

What I really said was, "Listen to me very carefully."

I said, "Pay close attention to everything I say."

I said, "Take it all in, memorize it, recite it to your own children." I said, "Chant it around a campfire like the Iliad." I said, "Copy it verbatim into the notebook you keep near your bed. Fall asleep with a pen in your hand, whispering."

Jun 24, 2024

"She couldn’t keep her fingers off the menus."

Aug 8, 2023

"I ate the cake to get on with things."

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