“I’m so snappy these days. I mean, I’m not even mad right now.”
There was a pause as Sibble’s words sunk in to her husbands mind. She expected him to say something like, “Oh dear, your just hormonal”, or, “Your under a lot of stress right now, its quite alright.”
But instead he said, “Maybe your angry and you don’t realize it,” which ofcourse made Sibble angry. She found he always had to analyze her.
“No. I litteraly just said I’m not angry.”
Mavon turned the page of his newspaper, “You said you weren’t mad.”
“Well what’s the difference?!” Sibble snapped, immedietly regretting her volume.
Mavon just gave a tired glance at her, tilting his head down so he could see out of the tops of his glasses which were filled with medicine; Mavon was practically blind. Mavon was blind and Sibble was deaf. Mavon was tired and Sibble was restless. Mavon was always blowing his nose even though he was rarely sick, and Sibble was always getting sick for him. Their entire lives spent together was one big “aha” moment where they should have realized they were opposites and should have nothing to do with eachother. But Sibble always went by the notion that opposites attract, and Mavon always believed one day Sibble would grow too old to argue.
Except this night at Starbucks in the local Barnes & Noble was different from the rest. Mavon didn’t order his usual orange juice which he always complained was too acidic for his stomach but would continue to drink, and Sibble didn’t order two chocolate muffins, (which Mavon always thought surprising considering her petit figure).
Mavon didn’t retrieve the copy of “Cold Mountain” which he always hid behind the magazine rack, too cheap to buy the book and oblivious enough to think the barista didn’t notice he was hiding it. And Sibble, she didn’t flip through magazines that had vacation photos on the front of some celebrity she didn’t know but was eager to find out if Hawaii was fun for them all the same.
This night was different not only because Mavon was reading the paper rather than his book and Sibble was twiddling her thumbs instead of a magazine, no, this night was different because they were no longer alive. Mavon had died two years ago, Sibble two months, yet they bickered in the same Barnes & Noble regardless. This night was different because they wanted to turn over a new leaf. They had both agreed the morning before over some cream of wheat that if they were dead they were going to start a new life.
Mavon had said, “Tomorrow night at Barns & noble, don’t read your magazines and get your muffins dear.”
Intrigued by this proposal Sibble replied with, “Well don’t read your book and drink orange juice.”
In a silent agreement the two smiled at eachother, exciting to accept a challenge they probably should have years ago.
So Mavon drank boring water and read a boring newspaper instead of orange juice, and Sibble resisted the temptation of the plastic wrapped muffins in the glass window.
In the back of Sibble’s head however, she worried the new system would throw them off, afterall, they had been lounging at the starbucks café in barnes and noble every Sunday night for as long as their fading memories could remember. And in the front of Mavon’s mind he longed for orange juice. Nevertheless, the two agreed and pulled through, but not long before Sibble had to snap at him about how she was so snappy lately.
Too embarrassed for an apology, Sibble leaned over the table to hold Mavon’s hands and said, “I’m glad your not drinking orange juice.”
Mavon took off his glasses. “Me too,” he replied.