Chapter 16

16

I haven't been able to write a decent sentence in months, but there she sits at my desk, penning a five-page letter to her friend who is currently living in Germany.

If she can write, why can't I?

She is sitting across the table from me, silently eating a pork chop that is slightly overdone. I've lost my appetite and have barely touched mine.

If she can eat, why can't I?

Conversations, like decent fiction, have become scarce. I'm getting too old to forcibly extract either, so here we sit, listening to the sound of her fork scrape across the plate. I hear her breathing heavily, a slow, metered sigh.

If she can breathe, why can't I?

She exits the bathroom wearing nothing but a faded blue towel. The size of her breasts does not excite me anymore. Her eyes stop in ascension and then finally arrive at their destination. She looks so lonely as she stares at me, a tiny drop of water falls from a bang onto her forehead.

She walks slowly over to the phonograph and restarts Miles Davis's Kind of Blue, then takes a seat on my worn pullout couch. My mind withdraws into the heavy bass notes of "So What", withdraws into a smoke filled jazz bar, withdraws into a crowded room, alive with the energy of simply being one of the masses. Midway through the first number, she sneezes.

I need to tell her some things.

She sneezes again.

I grapple with the words, writing and erasing sentences in my head. I can hear the wind pound against the windows, desperate to come inside.

She looks so lonely.

I can hear the telephone ringing in the kitchen, but neither of us make a move to answer it. I count the number of rings and get to eight before it stops.

She has shifted from the pork chop to her green beans. She stabs at them with intention and malice.

The trumpet crescendos, the wind is moaning at the door. I need to tell her some things. "Jamie?" She puts down her fork.

"Yes?"
"I'm not in love with you."
"I know."

The words fall from her mouth and onto her plate, scattering the remaining beans. She stands up, still holding her fork, and exits the room smiling.

If she can smile, why can't I?