STATIC

“ People die, Luther.”

        Those were the words she said to me in her failed attempt to console me, to get me to realize the frailness of mortality. Those 3 words cut through me like a hot knife through butter. It did nothing to keep me from crying even more.

        “Luther, people do die”.

        She said it again, each word deliberately spoken, as if to drive the point home. This time it was followed by: “You’re gonna die. I’m gonna die. Everybody in this funeral parlor and outside is gonna die. The whole world is gonna die. We will all be replaced by others who will die as well.”

        I watched her lips move to form the words. I looked up at her eyes. They were oval, black and piercing. Her skin was tanned. I guessed that she was probably Arabic, or Persian, or maybe a Latina. She had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. At maybe 6 feet, she was maybe three inches taller than myself. She was lean, and like every woman that was present, she wore a black dress. I guessed her to be maybe in her late twenties. I didn’t even know who she was. I never saw her before, but she knew all about me.

        I asked her out following the burial, at the cemetery. It was my twin brother who was being put six feet under; I asked her out, and she said yes.

        Why did I ask her out? And why did she say yes?

        5 years later, after having married her, I’m still asking that question. Friends say there’s something about the fact that Carmen doesn’t sugar-coat anything. You always get the truth with her. She keeps it real. I don’t know. I prefer to call it cold-hearted rudeness, bluntness, and bluntness leaves a lot to be desired.

        Why did I marry her?

        I think Carmen came to me in a dream and said those words before she approached me at the funeral parlor. I had never seen her before. My brother, Tony and I, were identical twins. We were close, up until about a month before his death, but I still knew just about everyone he knew. His friends were my friends. His enemies were automatically my enemies even if I didn’t know them or what they did to become his enemies. We worked at the same law firm. We had the same vices. He smoked weed and I smoked weed. We even lost our virginity on the same night, with the same woman (our football coaches’ wife).

        I’ve been told I’ve done a lot of bad things in the past, but the medication Carmen insists that I take once at night and once in the morning has been a great help in controlling my behavior. She says I’m a better husband when I take the medication; she says I’m more amorous.

        Carmen and I get along well. There’s a lot of passion between us. We now have two beautiful 3yr old twin girls who are the loves of my life, but I ask that question to myself every day. Why did I ask her out?

        Maybe because of the three words, said twice: “I know everything,”  followed by: “Your brother told me where it was hidden, and I retrieved it and hid it some place else.”

        I can’t be held responsible for every bad thing that occurs, can I? I’ve been waiting for 5 years for the other shoe to drop. And I’m nervous.


--Alexgeorge