Asunder

MAYBE THE LOVE OF A ONE-LUNGED WOMAN

PLAYING SOLITAIRE, NAKED AND DRUNK.

Not in a metaphorical sense but actually placing black eights beneath red nines while drinking Polish vodka and wearing no clothes.

The expensive Polish vodka was a gift, otherwise I wouldn’t be drinking it. But I can’t say where this particular deck of cards comes from. I can’t remember ever buying a deck of cards. They’re like umbrellas that way. The clothes I am not wearing vary in size and style. Mostly hand-me-upped jeans and polo shirts from my brother who is in the process of losing fifty pounds. We’re all proud of him.

There is a woman with one lung for whom I cannot speak. The doctors took the other lung when it was of no use to her, when it was doing more harm than good. This is one of those she had it coming deals because she smoked that one lung right into oblivion. The remaining lung has a lot of work ahead of it one imagines.

At some point the word overtaxed will be mentioned and that will be that.

Till then the sound of chronic wheezing.

And yes I’ve been drinking, but it goes right through me without food in my stomach. There is something wrong with my bladder, it’s embarrassing.

I have had relations with the one-lunged woman, the woman for whom I cannot speak. But all this happened when she was two-lunged. I don’t think I could carry on with someone missing a lung.

I haven’t spoken with her or for her since the operation. Someone had to tell me about it although I can’t remember who it was. It may have been my brother. He may have told me about her lung when he brought over the Polish vodka and two pairs of Wranglers.

How he found out I don’t know.

I lose my appetite every spring and eat only once a day. I rarely lose weight, although I could stand to lose a few pounds around the middle. When I tell my brother I could stand to lose a few pounds he scoffs the way fat people scoff at skinnier people who want to lose weight.

The one-lunged woman for whom I cannot speak told me so in no uncertain terms. She said, Don’t ever presume to speak for me.

I have since forgotten the circumstances that moved her to say that. Doubtless it was warranted. Apparently, I either don’t pay close attention or there’s something wrong with me.

There were other bones of contention, which falls under the—Tell me something I don’t know heading. The smoking was one of them, I think. I may have said something like, Better the devil you know, in reference to something important, which was probably a mistake.

I rely on platitudes under duress.

The red deck of cards is worn to a frazzle and a few cards have distinguishing marks. For instance, the ace of diamonds has a fold in one of the corners and the four of clubs has a slight tear.

I can deal fast and play fast. Speed Solitaire. I doubt anyone could play faster.

The only interruptions come when I have to go to the bathroom, which is often.

I don’t know why I’m naked.

When you win at Solitaire, whom have you defeated and what have you won is a question I cannot answer.

Maybe the right to say out loud what you’re thinking because there’s nobody there to tell you otherwise.

Or maybe the love of a one-lunged woman.

The Polish vodka is gone now. I’m into canned beer. I put on my brother’s pants and one of his shirts.

The one-lunged woman is doing as well as can be expected. She has therapy three times a week and is exercising and all the rest of it. I’m told she looks like hell.

That her one-lungedness is the only thing that distinguishes her and me from anyone else is a fact I am acutely aware of. It is our fold in the corner.

I’ve decided to make tuna fish. I’ve decided to dice an onion and toast some bread.

These are the first decisions I’ve made since I decided to take off my clothes and drink and play Solitaire probably two days ago now. Although it was more like I found myself naked and drinking and playing Solitaire.

I win the last game I play despite having to deal with two red threes and two red fours on the flop. The key move was the black jack rearing his devilish head when I was down to the last card. I knew the game was winnable at that point, and after 12 losses in a row, I suppose you can say I had it coming.

I leave the cards there in the middle of the floor, all spread out, all in order.