No Choice
"Big
snowstorm?"
"The Blizzard of '94 in Philadelphia," the professor replied. "This
was one of my ex-wives' apartment building, right across from Arlington
Cemetery in Drexel Hill."
"The concert pianist?"
"Yes. There that
brooding girl is, deep in reading. The big pot outside the window contained
some sort of flowers that I took to be a symbol of our emerging relationship. I
could see green shoots peeking through the snow, and I was happy to believe
that in just a few weeks its flowering would represent the triumph of light
over darkness. As usual, I was mistaken. They soon died."
"Which is why you must now refer to her as but one of the exes. By the
way, if you don't mind my asking, how many do you have?"
"Entirely too many. The cumulative heartbreak and anguish they brought me
is literally beyond the language. I reel in wordless silence."
James laughed. "I see your bent for irony has not waned."
"Thank you."
"Black cat. That
couldn't have been a good sign, either."
"That was the most smug and self-satisfied beast I've ever encountered.
Buster Bunny's cold disdain came from his knowing that I was merely passing
through, that I would soon be replaced by still another in a line of suitors.
He knew his mistress loved HIM entirely more than she loved me."
"And this?"
"The concert pianist's apple pie was very nearly as good as her keyboard
technique. Absolutely magnificent. A rich, thick crust. A filling of sweet
apples, orange marmalade, raisins, cinimaon. Mmmmmm. Of course I simply was
compelled to propose marriage not too long after that pie emerged, steaming,
from the oven."
"Did she accept?"
"No. She just said, 'WHOA!'"
"But you persisted."
"I had no choice."
*
* *