In the deep dark depths of the basement one night he asks me how much I think I've spent on pens. Although I'm well aware he's seen the cups that runneth o'er, full of felt tips and ballpoints on my drafting table, I know this is an answer he's not prepared to hear. In the same way he's not prepared to hear what my dry cleaning bill is. (Although part of me thinks he came face to face with that figure a few weeks prior when he tried to wipe batter that went splat across my peony pink silk top in his kitchen when we were making banana muffins one night because the bananas were starting to look like they had been through a battle.) Does he mean how much I've spent on pens in my life? Because that's impossible. Over the past year? Maybe I could ballpark it.
I suddenly felt like I was at the dentist. You know, the feeling you get when he asks if you floss regularly. You're wanting to say, "Define regularly," even though you're well aware your once-a-week, twice out of necessity on nights you eat corn on the cob, and three times the morning you see the dentist, isn't going to cut it. He's already got you in that vulnerable position--reclined in the chair, feet elevated like you're suffering from deep vein thrombosis. Then the assistant sticks a bib across your chest. And there's that light above you, which is like an interrogation in and of itself, beaming into your soul. After what feels like forever you manage a "There's always room for improvement," followed by a big-toothed grin (thank goodness you flossed three times) for extra measure.
There are some questions in life you just don't want to answer.
We spend so much time searching for someone to share everything with, and as much as we want to open up to them completely, sometimes we hesitate, for whatever reason. Part of us wants to keep some things a secret. Maybe we're afraid we'll run out of stories. Maybe it's so one day, fifty years from now when there's a moment of silence, we can turn to the other person and say, "Did I ever tell you about the time..."
2 comments:
i love this a lot
marth...i love this post. i don't check other blogs that often, but decided to come to yours today and SO glad i did. i LOVE your writing. always have. hence a file named "martha" in my file drawer full of emails from you. i could read you over and over again. great to see you the other day! thanks so much for making the effort to come out. hope you have a merry christmas and let's get together soon...xo
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