But My Memory Is Not

Haruki – Table Is Empty

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

I cleared it this morning, the table. Stacked dishes and took great care not to drop a one. Ran to the kettle when it called. Poured us tea. Counted out the sugar. You used to like tea, remember? You used to know my name. When you were here.

I sit in your chair from time to time. I wear your pants and don your shirt. I put on your face, Dean. I pull back my hair and pull out your cologne. I cock my head the way you would and lower my voice as best I can, which really isn’t very good, but I do so anyway.

I tried to forget you once. It was only for a minute, and Dean, one minute out of 17 years making tea for two when there’s only one really isn’t much at all, and it was only the once. It happened in bed the night you left. And it wasn’t your fault, really. But, that night in bed, I read your note for the first time — I saw her name for the first time — and I hated you then, but only for a minute, maybe a little more.

The following morning I cleared the table after breakfast. I set the kettle, came back, and counted all the tiny scratches — all the wine glasses, lost keys, prescription bottles, pens, cutlery, harsh words, misunderstandings, and three years of silence etched into the side of the wood. I poured us tea. Counted out the sugar. Placed an empty picture frame beneath the boxes atop the fridge. Jasmine, cinnamon, and chamomile. You used to like tea, Dean. Even if I never did. Even if I never would. Not even after 17 years of making tea for two when there was barely one left in our room….

What was it that broke?

[Myspace]