She gave me a handful of berries. We sat next to each other and ate them in silence. When we finished, our lips were red.
Euan was Scottish and Mimi was French. When they got together their friends called it a clear case of bilateral nominative determinism.
At first they always agreed in first person – Euan said ‘aye’ and Mimi said ‘oui’.
But then, then.
“It’s all about Euan, isn’t it?”
“Oh, very funny. Mimi Mimi Mimi, that’s all I hear.”
They were a contrapuntal couple until the centripetal became centrifugal. Euan said ‘aye’ and really meant it: Mimi said ‘oui’ but it never was again.
The first time I shared a box set with you, it was play play play all the way. No hold, no pause, from disk to disk and day to day, episodes one through six without eating or drinking or sleeping. No thought. Why should we rewind when we’re forwarding so fast? What’s next? What’s next in our cliffhanger story? Next disk.
Then one day I watched a show without you and our stories parted. I was sorry, we paused and thought, then one of us rewound, rewound so far I could never catch up. I found myself spun off then deleted, episodes nine to twelve still in their shrink wrap, tidied away in the cupboard of unfinished dreams.