Going back to yesterday, another odd twist. I’m on the phone with Nancy, and I hear the garage door open; Jim was supposed to go straight to Goshen, not come home first. Knocking on the door, then it opens and my neighbor hollering in to see if I’m alive or lying dead on the kitchen floor. I told her I was fine, but felt the need to lie because she’d gone through such trouble to check up on me. Usually, because she is alone now, she calls me every morning to let me know that she is alive because she doesn’t want to be found three days after passing. Especially in the summer. I lied and told her I was on the phone with my sister; it seemed to make it more worth her time and trouble because it’s hard for her to walk. My sister, in fact, is on a train to Washington D.C.
We go to Gus’ and eat corned beef and cabbage and drink wine. I laugh, smile, and beam because sunshine cannot cry. Tears are averted on all sides.
Home again, Jim kisses me good night and tells me not to fall asleep on the couch. "I won’t-good-night-I-love-you," I reply. I wake up to see a 3-D animation of the mechanics of the penis on tv. Despite my age and relative maturity, I watch, fascinated.
But I have serious writing to do that needs my full concentration, so I shut the tv off before the program moves on to the talking cross-sectioned avocado.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology