Been a while since I gave you some fiction to chuckle on. And I do hope it makes you chuckle.
And if you want more chuckling, remember, Not Quite A Disaster is sitting, waiting at some warehouse, to be shipped to you.
If you are a book reviewer and wish to review it, contact me at buku@bukusarkar.com or my agent Jacqueline Ko at Wylie Agency.
1.
David brought Margaret milk from the store. She had asked for milk. He brought exactly the brand she preferred. She thanked him and put it in the refrigerator.
Margaret no longer wanted milk. She could not remember when she had stopped wanting milk, or what she wanted instead. The milk would expire before she touched it. David would throw it away without comment and buy more milk the following week.
This had been happening for some time.
2.
How to be married to someone who is always there or never there? Margret can’t seem to decide. David sits across from her at breakfast. He reads her headlines from his phone. He asks if she needs anything from the hardware store.
Margaret counts David’s presence: body in chair, voice making sounds, eyes that look in her direction. She cannot locate the part of him that sees her looking back.
Margaret has not yet determined if she prefers this to his actual departure.
3.
David tells Margaret about his day. He mentions the traffic, a client meeting, the weather forecast. Margaret makes sounds. She asks follow-up questions to show that she has been listening.
Later, Margaret cannot remember a single thing David said. She remembers the shape of his mouth moving, the familiar cadence of his voice, the way he gestured with his coffee cup.
Margaret realizes they have been having the same conversation for fifteen years. The words change but the content remains identical: I am here. Yes, you are here. Good.
4.
Margaret sits at the kitchen table considering next week’s dinner plans. David prefers chicken on Tuesdays. She no longer eats chicken but continues to prepare it because David has not asked what she prefers.
Margaret cannot remember when she stopped liking chicken. She cannot remember what she does like anymore. The question seems to require a thinking, feeling person to answer it.
Next week David will eat chicken and tell Margaret it tastes good. Margaret will smile and agree, though she will eat only the vegetables. This system works perfectly for everyone involved.
5.
Margaret wakes at three in the morning knowing something. She lies next to David, who breathes steadily beside her. She tries to identify what she knows but finds only the certainty that she knows it.
The knowledge has no words attached to it. It sits in her chest like a letter written in a language she cannot read. David continues sleeping. Margaret continues lying awake, holding her wordless knowledge until morning.
When David wakes, he asks if Margaret slept well. She says yes. This is not a lie, exactly. She did lie down with her eyes closed for seven hours. Whether this constitutes sleeping is a question she cannot answer.
