She was not sure how this had begun.
Nor, was she sure how long it would go on. She had at first thought they would abandon it, the puzzle, forced by the august sun to retreat to a shadier location. But the first drink had come, then the second, and to the quiet percussion of the filling and draining of their glasses the sun had stumbled its way through the sky.
The table they sat across grew and shrank, ignoring laws of reason and physics, it’s size never changing but the space between her and him always was. He was far away now, farther than her arm could reach despite the caress of his calloused palms. Frustrated she abandoned his hand and began to fish through the pieces, a task that was pointless.
He wasn’t disengaged. The slightest sound from her commanded his full attention. And she liked that, the way he would turn and focus on her, bringing to bear all of himself to consider whatever casual remark she made. She would ask him a question and she could almost feel him stop to consider it, he would remain quiet, turn himself to the pile of pieces, select one out, fit it or toss it aside before trying another until without much warning at all his voice would break through the sound of the intercoastal waterline, with an answer.
But in between picking and placing of pieces and those comfortable exchange of words and his gaze would wander and she could feel him sliding away from her. Drifting off to the horizon where begrudgingly the sun retired. It didn’t feel disingenuous his tidal disposition at the table and at their puzzle.
Shake of the wrist, the jingle of stubborn ice cubes, a sigh, and he was up, long strides to the porch where the liquor was. She watched him, his confident walk and his seemingly casual indifference to the gust of wind or troupe of ducks that had taken afternoon refuge near the path to and from the house. He wasn’t long gone and upon his return he fixed her with a smile and it made her nervous for how easily contented that simple gesture made her.
He leaned into the pile, fingering through the pieces, seeming to evaluate them by some method that evaded her. He picked one, didn’t even try to place it before tossing it back into the pile. Shifted through them again, picked another, eyed a position in the upper right corner and placed it as if it was meant for that place.
But it wasn’t. She didn’t know how long they had sat there, talking and drinking, enjoying the brief whispers of cool airs that would pop up and over the sea wall, placing pieces- or trying to place- into a puzzle. But it wasn’t a puzzle, when she had opened the box she had found that there were at least four different puzzles within, none of them, she suspected, complete. At the realization, assuming he had notice for it was so obvious, she had thought first to put the puzzle back, yet without saying a word he had carried the cardboard out to the patio.
That had been hours ago, she was sure, and while they made no quick progress into solving it, he kept at it at his lazy pace. There was no hint of frustration in him, no suggestion in his consideration of the impossible puzzle that led her to believe any of it bothered him.
She found herself compelled then to ask him about it. ‘You do realize that this puzzle… it’s not one puzzle, it’s a bunch and these pieces don’t match each other right?’
He turned to look at her, again that smile. There was a slight blur to his eyes but he responded very simply, ‘of course.’
She laughed, though she didn’t know why. She shook her head, her straight blond hair brushing her shoulders as she did. ‘Why doesn’t that bother you?’ He looked at her, right at her, as if he couldn’t make her out, or perhaps like he didn’t know her. ‘It drives me crazy! Why doesn’t it bother you?’
‘It never occurred to me that it was necessary that they matched’
Nor, was she sure how long it would go on. She had at first thought they would abandon it, the puzzle, forced by the august sun to retreat to a shadier location. But the first drink had come, then the second, and to the quiet percussion of the filling and draining of their glasses the sun had stumbled its way through the sky.
The table they sat across grew and shrank, ignoring laws of reason and physics, it’s size never changing but the space between her and him always was. He was far away now, farther than her arm could reach despite the caress of his calloused palms. Frustrated she abandoned his hand and began to fish through the pieces, a task that was pointless.
He wasn’t disengaged. The slightest sound from her commanded his full attention. And she liked that, the way he would turn and focus on her, bringing to bear all of himself to consider whatever casual remark she made. She would ask him a question and she could almost feel him stop to consider it, he would remain quiet, turn himself to the pile of pieces, select one out, fit it or toss it aside before trying another until without much warning at all his voice would break through the sound of the intercoastal waterline, with an answer.
But in between picking and placing of pieces and those comfortable exchange of words and his gaze would wander and she could feel him sliding away from her. Drifting off to the horizon where begrudgingly the sun retired. It didn’t feel disingenuous his tidal disposition at the table and at their puzzle.
Shake of the wrist, the jingle of stubborn ice cubes, a sigh, and he was up, long strides to the porch where the liquor was. She watched him, his confident walk and his seemingly casual indifference to the gust of wind or troupe of ducks that had taken afternoon refuge near the path to and from the house. He wasn’t long gone and upon his return he fixed her with a smile and it made her nervous for how easily contented that simple gesture made her.
He leaned into the pile, fingering through the pieces, seeming to evaluate them by some method that evaded her. He picked one, didn’t even try to place it before tossing it back into the pile. Shifted through them again, picked another, eyed a position in the upper right corner and placed it as if it was meant for that place.
But it wasn’t. She didn’t know how long they had sat there, talking and drinking, enjoying the brief whispers of cool airs that would pop up and over the sea wall, placing pieces- or trying to place- into a puzzle. But it wasn’t a puzzle, when she had opened the box she had found that there were at least four different puzzles within, none of them, she suspected, complete. At the realization, assuming he had notice for it was so obvious, she had thought first to put the puzzle back, yet without saying a word he had carried the cardboard out to the patio.
That had been hours ago, she was sure, and while they made no quick progress into solving it, he kept at it at his lazy pace. There was no hint of frustration in him, no suggestion in his consideration of the impossible puzzle that led her to believe any of it bothered him.
She found herself compelled then to ask him about it. ‘You do realize that this puzzle… it’s not one puzzle, it’s a bunch and these pieces don’t match each other right?’
He turned to look at her, again that smile. There was a slight blur to his eyes but he responded very simply, ‘of course.’
She laughed, though she didn’t know why. She shook her head, her straight blond hair brushing her shoulders as she did. ‘Why doesn’t that bother you?’ He looked at her, right at her, as if he couldn’t make her out, or perhaps like he didn’t know her. ‘It drives me crazy! Why doesn’t it bother you?’
‘It never occurred to me that it was necessary that they matched’
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