I can’t believe he didn’t warn me. I mean WTF? A forty minute train ride and not a mention? All I can do is keep smiling the now stale smile that’s a little two wide to sustain.
This moment will forever be referenced as the time Max betrayed me just before announcing our engagement.
How can he never have mentioned his mother is wall-eyed?!? It’s only been a recurring peeve of mine since… Forever! What is the social taboo on calling out the wall-eyed elephant in the room? Why isn’t it cool to just ask, “Hey, which eye should I be looking at? – Okay cool, you were saying?” It doesn’t have to be a thing, just address it and move on. I remember the Sunday morning I shared my position – NY Times, croissants and a pot of Earl Grey.
She’s turned to Max and murmuring something so I let the smile collapse into a pursed line. Over her shoulder I am stabbing Max with my eyes but he won’t make contact. And I realize with eviscerating precision this was a test.
8 min April 7 2014 in bed, East Village, NYC
prompt sourced from Encounters with Great Painters, by Roger Therond
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