Drop #85: Three Memories

Hugh asked me what I’d done over the weekend. He was one of those old guys you could never imagine ever having been young. I thought about it for a while but the only memories that came to mind were old ones, though these were very clear:

 

Fall, 2006. Montauk, Long Island.

‘Open a wine,’ I said.

‘Which one?’

‘Any one.’

‘Surely not any one!’

‘Yes, any one.’

‘But this, for instance, is a 1990 Haut B-B-Brion.’

‘Don’t ever let wine make you stutter, Larry. The Haut Brion is a fine choice.’

 

Late summer, 2004. Barcelona, Spain.

It was sunny for eight straight days. On the ninth, it rained. They complained about the rain. I’d been alone in the room a plump three hours before she stirred, softly rustling the sheets.

‘You have cigarette?’ she asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Oh my God, I feel like shit.’

She looked like shit. She sat up, exposing her bare chest.

‘Did I sleep with you or something?’ she asked, scratching her head.

‘Nope.’

The rain showed no signs of slowing. It came down in clean silver stripes. I could smell the earth soaking.

‘Do you have a cigarette?’ she asked again.

‘Nope,’ I said again.

 

Spring, 2009. Pacific Ocean.

‘Want to play checkers, Mister?’ asked the girl.

She could only have been 12 or 13, but by god she had hairy arms! She was a veritable gorilla. I hadn’t been in favor of the cruise but I had to admit that I was enjoying myself. The endless supply of fresh sea air and tempered sunshine along with the myriad of brightly colored beach towels and summer dresses constantly on display had me quite dizzy with relaxed satisfaction.

‘Why not?’ I replied. ‘Now where’s that waiter with my drink?’

 

‘Oh, I remember now,’ I told Hugh, who had been waiting patiently. ‘I had a mediocre brunch and generic lunch; went for drinks at a random bar with this dull couple we met a month ago; replaced the two light bulbs that had blown (one above the kitchen sink and one in the bathroom), and watched some movies on TV I’d already seen.’

Hugh nodded, face unchanged, continuing even after I’d stopped talking.

‘Life would be so much easier if I liked football,’ I added, looking around for more bar snacks.

By E.M. Vireo

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About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

4 Responses to Drop #85: Three Memories

  1. I always thought life would be easier if I could tell jokes. The snippets of memory here seem to be how it actually works – nothing major or that memorable, just three things that happened. I like the experiment with form.

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