She hated to repeat herself. But much to her surprise she learned to love it. The rhythm of repetition remembers … forgotten forgivens. Not that she did it all the time but the occasion had started to arise more rather than less. It didn’t bother her … but she did notice that others noticed the great sex she was having with ABC.
- ABC and she married that year
- Then the words came … and came
- The love letters were beautiful
- And then there was a book.
- They settled down … to tell …
- You and I … a story
The Vows
She didn’t marry young. At 30 years of age you wouldn’t call her an antique but in some cultures her shelf life had expired. She found this out the hard way. If anyone ever tells you that it doesn’t hurt when you get hit by a bus … you lie, you lie, you lie. Shocking … is the word he used. But love pulled me through … and across the pavement. I need to mention that right around this time I started talking to myself. Conversations worth having … trust me. I suppose I could have talked to him but after his reaction at City Hall … no. Imagine an astonished stare … staring … a contest … when you are expecting a kiss. I blinked first. Still pouting we married. A simple ceremony … I’m told. My mind was elsewhere … waiting for the bus. Why did my age upset him so? … Take you to be my lawfully wedded husband … I’m 15 years younger than you! … I do … What’s a marriageable age where you come from … 12! … I now pronounce you man and wife … And no … you didn’t ask … and no … I didn’t tell … You may kiss the bride. Still pouting …
The Reception
The bus stop. No … but it would. She hoped. Crowded too … lunch hour downtown. People … lots of people. Most of them she knew. Some smiled … some didn’t. She knew the sad ones and the happy ones. She was happy … happy to be on the bus. With the staring ones … staring … out the window. She blinked back … the tears that rolled quite a distance before she could catch them … quietly. “Happy Tears” she would say, if asked. He asked. “That is good. I was worried that I might have upset you. Disappointed? No … darling I was more surprised than shocked. Liar. You are so beautiful and youthful it never occurred to me that you were older than what you appeared to be. We met on campus … you were in school, I just assumed.” She saw the train from out the window … coming … fast. “And anyway, you don’t look that old… “Why is he still talking?” … and no more school … at your age … you don’t want to look ridiculous.” Didn’t he see the train … didn’t he hear it! … “Shutup!” Did anyone! She looked around to see. Some … “Can you see it coming?” There were a few … most of them she knew. They knew. They stared. She blinked. “Happy Tears.”
Wedding Feast
We had decided to dine locally. A small place with good food. A treat for us really … we rarely ate out. Neither of us liked fast food … of any kind and enjoyed home cooked cuisine budgeted from a household account that didn’t always balance because of an occasional burger binge. That’s a secret. “Americans” … he would say when on that rarest of rare occasions I had to have onions. “Economy, discipline and nutrition.” Reasons given when asked “Baby, why not a burger?” … “Can I take your order?” He looked so uncomfortable sitting there fidgeting with the utensils. I knew this was a challenge for him and maybe a bit of a sacrifice for being such a pig earlier. Bastard. She didn’t enjoy his suffering, she understood it. In fact he was a pig. At least he ate like one and so did she … in quality. Quantity was a problem also … for him. And public dining was a nightmare … for him. He was used to eating with his hands … which I find natural and sometimes very practical coming from any culture. Different. But he was embarrassed. Economy, discipline and nutrition … my ass. He looked at the knife and fork … the enemy … almost with suspicion and looked at me as if to say “What the hell do I do with these?” Nonsense. He knew … but I knew better … I knew that look … a distress call … for help, attention or sex. Hold me, Love me, Fuck me … looks. But … as always … you had to volunteer. And once again … as always …I volunteered … to help. If he only knew … “Americans” … don’t give a shit. Not the ones you should be listening to. And so … “You know I thought we were going to have a nice quiet little dinner at …” my sweet voice whispered. … his flooded with relief. “Would you like to go? … because I could cook you that dish you like so much.” So much … so much …
Honey’s Moon
The ring was beautiful. It was the first time she had really looked at it. Did he really mean it? She had to admit … and she did everyday … that she liked being married. “Happy Honey?” Honestly Happy ! No tricks in the trade. Honestly … she had never seen herself as wife. Hell she needed a wife! But … it wasn’t as bad or as scary as she had imagined. “Stop imagining things.” And what images they were. Like the other day he called to say that he had just been handed a heavy research project and had to stay in the library overnight. He creepin′ Or two weeks ago when I got into the car and noticed that there was an abundance of unknown berries and dried foliage covering the surface. As if it had been sitting overnight under a tree and not the unsheltered vista of the campus parking lot. He wanted you to leave school … Why? And lately … when he is at home … he’s in “his room” talking on the phone. Mmm … hmmm … he pillow talkin′ to somebody. She looked at the ring again. Trying to find the flaw. It was so beautiful. Really real. It was just what she wanted. It was just her imagination. She didn’t need a crystal ball. You have a crystal ball. Left hand, third finger. The phone interrupted her thoughts … “Honey, I won’t be home for dinner I have a meeting with the head … “ Look again. Really … did he mean it?
A Cup of Tea
Weeks of packing and planning. He had received a fellowship for his PhD and would be leaving at the end of the month. I was to follow him after packing what we did want and selling what we didn’t. I had no intention of doing either. “Would you like a cup of tea?” His excitement over his achievement … like everything else lately … had lasted every bit of ten minutes. Hugs and kisses too. Short and sweet. “Tea?” We sat sipping. “You look distant.” She stared … into her cup. “You aren’t coming are you?” She stared … into him. “No.” He blinked .. you lie, you lie, you lie. Astonished. “You look surprised.” Disappointed. “I think we would have been happy.” Happy hurts … sugar? “Honey.” “No.” He blinked again. “Plain” They sat sipping. Her cup empty … she asked. “Tell me again … why aren’t you flying?” “Because the bus is less expensive.” Happy tears.
Mrs.
“What are they staring at?” 20 years. She had not noticed. It’s funny how you can live your life without so much as a backward glance and others … “You look good … what’s your secret?” Economy, discipline and nutrition. She just smiled. “What’s your secret?” Repetition. “What?” “You repeat yourself … a lot.” So I’m told. “It’s not a criticism but an observation. I used to do it myself, all the time. A lot less now but when I was married … ” “That’s right you were married … to some foreign person the family never met. You never talk about him.” “No … he was not from this country.” Americans. But he was the reason … I repeat … forgotten forgivens. “He was the reason.” Do tell. Americans.
Mr.
Drama, mystery, comedy, thriller, suspense, romance, crime, horror. “What’s your story?” The graphic novel actually. You had to be there. A simple story. Simply a story. Picture perfect. I married into a world that was strange and beautiful. Surrounded by people that were strange and beautiful. As it turned out … I was the foreigner. On home soil … re-potted and very decorative. Completely out of my depth. Useless change jangling in his pockets … he heard me coming. He knew I was there … and thirsty. And there was a language … problem. I only spoke one and they spoke many except the one I spoke. Conversations were a challenge when every other sentence was “What?” Eventually I found that saying something twice provoked the response of communication. This being true or not I don’t know. But we began to understand one another. I was amazed at the language about and within these people. Layers and layers and layers … they spoke with their eyes, hands, body … every move … poetry. A picture … really. It was almost an insult to mouth the spoken word. I married a people … really. “And your husband in all of this?” … I hate repeating myself. Habits are hard to break.
ABCDEFG … HIJKLMNOP … QUSTUVWXYZ. Now I’ve said my abc’s …tell me what you think of me.
THE QUICK BROWN FOX JUMPS OVER THE LAZY DOG
by Tam Ampomah
padded papers 