Home Fires

REFLECTION 16: Couples

Here they come, he tall and very straight despite his age, she a full head shorter in the highest of high heels. Her arm’s through his; she is in possession. In her free hand, a tiny bag bright with synthetic gems, a little gold bag that speaks loud for her, telling the world she won’t have to pay, that a handkerchief, a lipstick, and a mirror are all she’ll need tonight.

There’s a bond between them stronger than Vanessa’s frail arm, or stronger (as I should say) than the arm that she has been loaned by the woman named Edith Eckhart. In this world, it is the invisible things that are strongest.

What forges that bond?

Not intercourse, though it is tempting to say it is. It forms, sometimes, between couples who have not so much as kissed, and once formed is stronger than steel, a bond that cannot be broken, though it can rust away.

There was, God knows, such a bond between Susan and me. I doubt that there was a person in our office who failed to sense it. I was Skip—when I was alone. Alone, she was Susan. Put us in the same room, be it as big as a banquet hall, and we became SkipandSusan.

Sometimes SusanandSkip. I should not forget that because it is as true as a human thought can be. In that infirmary room we were SusanandSkip, though Dr. Ueda was not there long enough to sense it—or I don’t think she did.

Look! Here in the air between us, Dr. Ueda. That is the bond, still bright, though others are brighter. Not yet red with rust, though it is rusting. It had begun to rust last year, in fact.

And now I know, or think I know, why Susan joined the suicide ring.

Can I have meant more than life to her? It seems incredible, but without me what did she have? No daughter and no son, because I never gave her any.

Virginia waves, and Chelle waves back. Do they sense the bond between Chelle and me?

Is there any bond there to sense?