Originally published in Doorknobs and Body Paint.
Outside. Rain. Train. Slicing. Inside. Deidre. Glossy. Manic. Derrick. Moustache. Newspaper. Wanted. Table. Glasses. Ice.
Derrick speaks. Shall I? Deidre answers. Please do. Derrick leaves. Deidre scratches. Ruddy cheeks. Black bob. Suitcase falls. Pops open. Marbles everywhere. Tommy’s present. Deidre cleans. One marble. One universe. Derrick has drinks. Deidre on knees. About bloody time. Two icy bourbons. My own glass! Tommy’s present fall? I threw them. Why would you? For the noise.
She pockets a marble. Derrick sips his bourbon. How old is Tommy? Deidre looks at him. Her frothy eyes bulge. I was just asking. Either three or four. Three, he is three! Derrick swallows thick air.
Seems like just yesterday, huh? Deidre snaps shut the suitcase. Ten marbles still roll around. Did you change your hair? It’s slightly rearranged, she smiles. Derrick pulls her to him. Deidre sits on his lap. And she fixes his moustache. One side seemed higher, bushier.
Someone knocks on their train compartment. Bug off, they yell in unison. Well I never, the trolley squeaks. We shouldn’t be mean like that. A marble hits Derrick’s big toe. Does Tommy Gun even like marbles? Deidre assumed all kids liked marbles. She begins to sob into herself.
Come here, sit down, you are everywhere. Deidre puts a marble in his glass. Derrick wraps his enormous arms around his wife. She puts another marble into her own glass. They pick up their amber glasses and raise them. Derrick speaks: tomorrow will be yesterday and today will be.