|
magicforest
|
My sister looked curiously at my bag. “That parcel smells like sweetgrass,” she said, and pulled out a plant. “What is this?”
I smiled helplessly. “A palm frond.”
“A palm frond?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“A palm tree, I assume.”
“A palm tree from where?”
“California.”
“Oh!”
She looked at me enquiringly. “And what’s that?”
I stifled a grin. “It’s a chesspiece.”
“A chesspiece?”
“Yes. It appears to be a pawn.”
“Oh!”
There was a swift silence.
“And…and that?”
“It’s a book. Vonnegut.” I let her examine it. Everything did smell like sweetgrass. I opened a dictionary and pressed the palm frond in carefully between two sheets of waxed paper.
“That’s Murdoch’s favourite book.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Murdoch. He has the mohawk. He’s tall.”
“Ryan Murdoch?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!”
“Are those photographs?”
“Yes, they are. He’s catching or throwing a ball in this one…I like it.”
“I see.”
A very, very long pause.
“These weren’t recent photos, you know. He is much older now.”
“Oh!”
“Ah! Have you heard of Arcadia?”
“I know what it is, but…”
“This was a play. He was in it.”
“Was it good or bad?”
“I don’t know. I’ll put it on.”
We watched the names scroll down slowly and then the first scene opened.
“Wow. They have scenery. And costumes.”
“And British accents. Our high school is pathetic. We couldn’t even do New Yorker for the last thing. Look at the set. They have a set. I hope they use the same set for the whole play. If they have more than one set than we are really awful. Did you hear that line? He’ll have to read Dorian Gray. I’ll send it. Are you still here?”
She wasn’t.
I closed the book tightly and put it on the shelf. The pale green tips of the palm frond made Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary look like it was sprouting.
I left the room.
|
031229
|
