To snowboard or to ski? thought Pablo. Blurtso’s wetcat mctwist is wicked epic, but Bonny’s telemark turn is beautiful… visor beanies are sick, but my Jean Claude Killy is classic… there’s nothing like the glide of sticks, but gapping a blinger is phat nasty. There must be some way to decide. Pablo! called Bonny from the ski shop. Coming! said Pablo, rushing to join her.
I suppose many people have sat and wondered, over the years, about a loved one who was not there. A father, mother, son, daughter, husband, or wife. I suppose they woke up every morning and went to bed every night with a hole in their heart. With an empty space they carried around, struggling through the day with only half of themselves still there. I suppose that’s the most common way to go through life.
“Here we are,” she thought, and looked out the window. The brown water of the river fanned into the bay. The water of the river after the rain was brown and stained the blue of the bay.
The tables and chairs were arranged on the boardwalk and the waiters were crossing from the cafés carrying coffee and bread to the tables. The clients who weren’t tourists were reading newspapers and smoking. Some of the tables had parasols that wouldn’t shade the tables until the sun was higher on the horizon.
“I’m going for a walk,” said Peggy, looking out the window.
“Wait and I’ll join you,” said George.
The sun reflected brightly on the tables without tablecloths and the legs of the tables were black against the water. The tiles of the boardwalk were smooth. Some of them were cracked and some were wet from the rain. The ones that were wet were darker than the others and the dark ones were slippery.
Peggy and George walked until they passed beyond the tables and chairs. They found an empty bench and sat down. The sun across the water was low and bright in their eyes. It didn’t bother them if they looked up or down the coast. A jogger passed in front of them and Peggy followed him with her eyes until the man and the boardwalk disappeared around the cape.
“I wonder if I’ll ever be back here,” said Peggy.
“Of course we will,” said George.
It’s warmer today, said Harlan. Yes, said Blurtso. You don’t look very good, said Harlan, what have you been doing? I’ve been painting, said Blurtso. Painting? said Harlan. Yes, said Blurtso, I saw Lizzy again, and I think she should be immortalized like the models of Renoir.
I call it, “Jeune âne au piano.”