Her Thirties Part 47

The frost on the ground the next morning was a cruel reminder it was still March. Yesterday’s golden afternoon in the park seemed as unreal as my friendship with Abe.

We were jet and ivory, really—as incongruous as fire and ice.

“Thirty-two degrees and frost,” the radio announcer said, “warming up to 39 degrees today with a chilly wind.”

My sunburnt face looked out of place with a toque and winter coat. It was an emblem of everything contradictory in my life—a visible reminder my reality was fraught with vast discrepancies.

The observation spun me into a reflective mood, nudging me in a direction I didn’t want to go.

I began thinking about Marilyn and where we were headed. Did we even have a future? The question begged an answer because everything about us seemed past, if that was even possible.

Pondering the conundrum made me wince— I was unable to wrap my mind around the riddle.

I didn’t want to begin the day with a headache, or the frustrating feeling of bumblebees in the brain. Marilyn and I had a natural affinity, and whatever the cause that brought us together, I couldn’t foresee a future without her.

But then the thought hit me: What if she recovers her memory along with her old identity—would there be a place for me in her life?

Despite my best efforts to avoid getting back on that endless merry-go-round, I began chasing the tail of my own thoughts again. No one goes through life without relationships. Somebody must have missed her. Why the hell didn’t anyone seek her out and make a missing person’s report?

Could she really be from the past—did she think she was? I had to have answers to those questions—and maybe get some answers for me too—like who the hell was this Joey guy who kept popping up on the inside of me?

I felt so dumb and passive. I visualized the image I had of my life—a stick floating down a river. Why was I so bloody laid-back? My breathing picked up and my heart began racing. I started feeling panicky.

I couldn’t imagine anyone else but me taking all this in stride—as if meeting a dream girl happened all the time, including the fact she dressed and acted like she was from the Thirties.

By this time, I was pulling into the university parking lot and had to push the thoughts to the back of my mind and get on with my day. I had no alternative but to suspend the matter until I could talk to her next day.

The realization had a calming effect on me. I left the car more peaceful than I felt on the trip down.

But I still felt I was half in and half out of reality—like the dreams I had of Marilyn in a silvery sequin gown, looking like a mermaid luring me down to her watery lair…and I was more than willing to drown.

To be continued...


© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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