You saw my wife in those mirrors I think. My ex-wife.
[He's still getting used to saying that. He often forgets, but the only way he'll get better is to keep correcting himself.]
Her name was Molly. I met her in California. I must have. Sometime around when I was finishing up with my doctorate, I think. My folks came out from Tennessee for the wedding. I don't think her family knew what to make of them; they were all cultured California folk, you know. I remember one of my little sisters pushed another one into a fountain trying to catch the bouquet. I can't recall which one.
I can't remember what color her eyes were. That might not be my fault. Her hair was always in front of them. She was a good woman. Very practical. Probably why she split off from me when she did. I don't blame
[No, no, no. Good things. Good memories. The rest of it can wait, can stay neatly boxed up in the back of his heart, for a little longer.]
I remember we had so much trouble deciding on a name for the baby. She wanted Tate so I let her have it if she let me pick the middle name. Meson. To go with Hadron. I thought it was clever. I used to call him Tater-Tot. He didn't talk for the longest time. I remember. I remember we were worried about it. Turns out he was just a quiet kid. He got that from her I think. He certainly didn't get it from me.
[It gets patchy after that. He wishes he had more. It must be there, somewhere. A first day of school, a birthday, something. That can't be all there is, and if he just knew the code he had to enter into his brain to unlock it he would. Vague images float on the edge of his consciousness but the harder he tries to grasp them the further away they seem to be.]
no subject
[He's still getting used to saying that. He often forgets, but the only way he'll get better is to keep correcting himself.]
Her name was Molly. I met her in California. I must have. Sometime around when I was finishing up with my doctorate, I think. My folks came out from Tennessee for the wedding. I don't think her family knew what to make of them; they were all cultured California folk, you know. I remember one of my little sisters pushed another one into a fountain trying to catch the bouquet. I can't recall which one.
I can't remember what color her eyes were. That might not be my fault. Her hair was always in front of them. She was a good woman. Very practical. Probably why she split off from me when she did. I don't blame
[No, no, no. Good things. Good memories. The rest of it can wait, can stay neatly boxed up in the back of his heart, for a little longer.]
I remember we had so much trouble deciding on a name for the baby. She wanted Tate so I let her have it if she let me pick the middle name. Meson. To go with Hadron. I thought it was clever. I used to call him Tater-Tot. He didn't talk for the longest time. I remember. I remember we were worried about it. Turns out he was just a quiet kid. He got that from her I think. He certainly didn't get it from me.
[It gets patchy after that. He wishes he had more. It must be there, somewhere. A first day of school, a birthday, something. That can't be all there is, and if he just knew the code he had to enter into his brain to unlock it he would. Vague images float on the edge of his consciousness but the harder he tries to grasp them the further away they seem to be.]