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  He thinks maybe she’s done a lot of drugs and this is what’s happened to her, the fallout, the aftermath.

  Aphasia is a disturbance of the comprehension and formulation of language caused by dysfunction in specific brain regions. This class of language disorder ranges from having difficulty remembering words to losing the ability to speak, read, or write. Aphasia is usually linked to brain damage, most commonly by stroke. Brain damage linked to aphasia can also cause further brain diseases such as cancer, epilepsy, and Alzheimer’s.

  Conversely, dementia is a serious loss of global cognitive ability in a previously unimpaired person, beyond what might be expected from normal aging. It may be static, the result of a unique global brain injury, or progressive, resulting in long-term decline due to damage or disease in the body. Although dementia is far more common in the geriatric population, it can occur before the age of sixty-five, in which case it is termed early onset dementia.

  Perhaps Janice is demented, but it’s not likely.

  The man does like to think in these kinds of dramatic terms, though.

  For instance, during the four or five years that these two lost track of each other, the man would say out loud to his wife, He’s dead to me, whenever his friend’s name was invoked.

  What seems more likely is that Janice has suffered some kind of mini stroke, also known as a TIA, or transient ischemic attack.

  The man knows about this because his father, Jasper, suffered a mini stroke last year.

  The only consequence of such has been a change in diet and various new medications, including blood thinners.

  The friend says, Sometimes I think about taking off.

  The man says, Where would you go?

  The friend says, Somewhere else.

  The man says, I don’t like to see that sort of thing.

  The friend says, It has nothing to do with you.

  The man says, I’d rather not see it, that’s all I’m saying.

  The friend says, You didn’t mind seeing it last week.

  The man says, I don’t think I had a choice.

  The friend says, I didn’t know that was going to happen.

  The man says, Janice didn’t mention anything? She didn’t say…

  The friend says, No, I was as surprised as you.

  The man says, These things happen. It means nothing.

  The friend says, There’s no point arguing.

  The two men are referring to what took place last weekend.

  The man was over for a few beers and to watch the baseball game.

  They watched as the local team put forth another embarrassing effort, a putrid display of what barely resembled major league baseball.

  Janice was out with friends doing god knows what. She’d be home late.

  The men watched the game and drank and spoke as men do the world over.

  They discussed the first baseman’s recent struggles and how it was indicative of a greater problem.

  They talked about the car parked outside of the man’s house. They talked about their wives and colleagues and medical conditions.

  Janice returned home earlier than expected, announcing herself as she barged through the front door.

  The game was in the eighth inning but had already been decided.

  After a few pleasantries, Janice put on some music and started to dance. She said she wasn’t finished having fun for the night.

  This is when she started removing her clothes, which consisted of a sundress and undergarments.

  She carefully folded each item and draped them over the credenza.

  The man considered excusing himself but decided against it. He didn’t want to seem rude or unappreciative.

  It seemed as if this performance was intended for both him and his friend.

  The man looked over at his friend, who was enjoying his wife’s performance.

  Before long, she was naked, and she danced liked this for a few minutes or hours.

  Then she moved over to her husband and danced in his lap.

  The man was both grateful for and disappointed by this. He drank from his beer.

  The music kept playing. The man didn’t recognize any of the songs.

  On the television, the first baseman took a called third strike, a fastball on the inside corner.

  By the time the first baseman was walking back to the dugout, Janice was kneeling in front of her husband.

  The man didn’t look away. He saw her go through the motions, up and down.

  By the time the first baseman took his position for the top of the ninth, they were finished.

  Janice turned to the man and said goodnight. She walked upstairs.

  The man kept his eyes on the game so that his friend could put himself away.

  Neither said anything and the evening concluded shortly after the game did.

  On the way home, the man wanted to compare this experience to some other experience, something he’d done before, some common human endeavor to provide context or perspective, if only for himself but also perhaps his wife, should he decide to tell her, so he could better understand why he subjected himself to this, why this happened, what it said about all of them, but he was incapable of such.

  The friend says, This morning we were on the porch, the two of us. We were having coffee. A flock of starlings were flying from tree to tree and lawn to lawn. Janice was staring at them. She was mesmerized, in a trance. Then finally she said, Would you look at that.

  The man says, And this means…

  The friend says, It was the way she said it.

  The man says, With my wife, it was a flock of seagulls.

  The friend says, What seagulls?

  The man says, She was telling me a story about seagulls and how she saved one once.

  The friend says, That’s a nice thing to do.

  The man says, This morning she was lying in bed and watching them fly outside the window. She said sometimes they fly and sometimes they float.

  The friend says, What does that mean?

  The man says, I don’t know.

  The friend says, It means something.

  The man says, That’s what I said. I said there was a double meaning, but she said there wasn’t.

  The friend says, There’s definitely a double meaning.

  The man says, There’s no point arguing.

  The friend says, I hate seagulls.

  The man says, They are nasty creatures.

  The friend says, I tried throwing a football at one once. Almost

  got it.

  The man says, You always had a good arm.

  The friend says, I’d like to go out there and join them.

  The man says, Join who?

  The friend says, The kids playing football.

  The man says, It’s not football season.

  The friend says, I can wait till winter.

  The man says, Football in the cold, in the snow.

  The friend says, There’s nothing better.

  The man says, Let me know and I’ll join you.

  The friend says, I want to see my breath disappear in the air and lose sensation in my limbs. I want to go out for a pass and scream bloody murder when the ball hits me in the chest. I want to fall to the ground, desperate for wind. I want the other players to huddle over me. I want there to be genuine concern. I want to limp home after the game and feel sore. I want to take off my sweatshirt and leave it on the sofa to dry. How come something like this can’t happen?

  The man says, Because you married a folder.

  The friend thinks about this, the implications. He wonders what his wife, Janice, might be folding this very minute.

  She is at home, alone. She said she needed a day to rest her body, mind, and soul.

  She is the kind of person who says such things out loud.

  The man says, So, what was wrong with the starlings?

  The friend says, It was like it was new to her, like she’d never seen a flock of starlings before.

&nb
sp; The man says, Maybe she hasn’t.

  The friend says, Those starlings are always out there.

  The man says, But maybe she didn’t notice them. Not everyone sees the same thing. We were just talking about this very thing this morning.

  The friend says, Who was?

  The man says, My wife and I.

  The friend says, That’s fine.

  The man says, Maybe she was oblivious to the starlings. This happens to people. It’s like they have blinders on. You walk along a street and come to a tree.

  The friend says, Fuck you and the tree.

  The man says, Nobody looks around, has their eyes open. No one notices the tree. Sees it for what it is. You walk down the street and everyone is looking down. I’ve always wanted to know, what the hell are people looking at? What the hell is so fascinating about your own footsteps or the ground in front of you?

  The friend says, Maybe they don’t want to step on anything. Maybe they don’t want to trip and fall. Maybe they don’t want to go all back full and pull a muscle.

  The man says, No one makes eye contact with a passing stranger. No one smiles. No one acknowledges other people.

  The friend says, We’ve agreed to this, we’ve said don’t look up. Looking up gets you in trouble. This is our philosophy. Do you not remember?

  The man says, There’s no point arguing.

  The man thinks about his wife. He can’t remember when she said she’d be home.

  The man watches his friend play with the toothpick in his mouth, moving it from side to side. The man has never seen his friend pick his teeth, but he has seen him clean his fingernails with a toothpick. The man is equally repelled and fascinated by this action.

  The friend says, But maybe we need to get into some trouble once in a while. To reassert our humanity, if nothing else.

  The man says, You think so?

  The friend says, I don’t know.

  The man says, Getting into trouble is another way we get into trouble.

  The friend says, Can’t argue with that.

  The man says, But, then again.

  The friend says, That’s what I think.

  The man says, Otherwise, it’s all the same. Every day.

  The friend says, I have no trouble not looking people in the eye.

  The man says, Especially on the bus, I imagine.

  The friend says, Especially there.

  The last time the friend took the bus he ran into someone he used to work with. This person was no one he’d wanted to run into. They said hello to each other. They asked after each other’s families. One of them said We should get together for a drink sometime and the other said Good idea.

  Neither meant what they’d said.

  The man says, I was in the park yesterday.

  The friend says, Who was talking about the park?

  The man says, No one.

  The friend says, I didn’t think so.

  The man says, But now I am talking about the park. This is how conversation works. It’s called a transition.

  The friend says, Fuck you and your transitions.

  The man says, That door over there, it isn’t locked from the outside.

  The friend says, As long as the whiskey is here, I’m staying.

  The man says, Then I will talk about the park.

  The friend says, This is your house.

  The man says, My wife was home, and sometimes when the two of us are home together it’s…

  The friend says, So you went to the park.

  The man says, I found an empty bench under a tree for shade. There were people walking around, biking, skating, what have you. Then I see a man with a guitar case walking toward my bench.

  The friend says, What kind of man?

  The man says, What do you mean, what kind of man?

  The friend says, Young man, old man, ugly man, fat man, dirty man…

  The man says, He was in his fifties, I’d say. He was portly, but not rotund.

  The friend says, What did you do?

  The man says, I tried to steer him to another bench with my eyes. I was trying to communicate non-verbally, so, in this case, I was most definitely looking up. I was trying to appear unapproachable, very pointed eye contact.

  The friend says, It didn’t work.

  The man says, It didn’t work. The guitar man sat right next to me. He didn’t ask, didn’t make a gesture of any kind, he just sat down next to me.

  The friend says, This kind of thing happens on the bus sometimes.

  The man says, Then he started talking to me. He said, How are you this morning? He had a ridiculous accent. He sounded like a bad actor trying to sound Irish. I think maybe he was waiting for me to ask how he was.

  The friend says, Of course he was.

  The man says, That’s how people are. They don’t care how you are, they only want to tell you how they are. They can’t wait to tell you the whole ugly story of themselves.

  The friend says, If I didn’t know you better, I’d say there was a double meaning here.

  The man says, Fuck you and your double meanings.

  The friend says, Fair enough.

  The man says, Then he starts up with this phony brogue. He says, I couldn’t be better this morning meself. He said, ’tis a beautiful day. ’Course I’m no spring chicken, not anymore, can’t keep up with these youngins. Can’t understand ’em either, to tell you the truth. More’s the pity. Still, I’m grateful to be alive on a day like today, my friend.

  During this reenactment, the man affects an Irish brogue himself.

  The friend says, What a fucking disaster.

  The man says, Then he said, I’ve been all over the world and it’s no better or worse right here, right here on this bench with you today.

  The friend says, He said that?

  The man says, This is what he said. Then he said, when in Rome I did as the Carthaginians did.

  The friend says, So, what did you say?

  The man says, I didn’t say anything. I was flabbergasted. He talked about Hannibal crossing the Alps on elephants. Then he started in on the Sherpas, the people living in the Himalayas. He said they were famous as mountain climbers.

  The friend says, Where did he get Sherpas from?

  The man says, I think it was the mountains, the Alps. I think maybe he thought the Alps and the Himalayas were the same thing.

  The friend says, Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s the same.

  The man says, It’s all the same, everything.

  Ancient Carthage was a Semitic civilization centered on the Phoenician city-state of Carthage, located in North Africa on the Gulf of Tunis, outside of what is now Tunis, Tunisia. It was founded in 814 BCE. Originally a dependency of the Phoenician state of Tyre, Carthage gained independence around 650 BCE and established a hegemony over other Phoenician settlements throughout the Mediterranean, North Africa, and what is now Spain, which lasted until the end of the third century BCE. At the height of the city’s prominence, it was a major hub of trade, with political influence extending over most of the western Mediterranean.

  For much of its history, Carthage was in a constant state of struggle with the Greeks on Sicily and the Roman Republic, which led to a series of armed conflicts known as the Punic Wars. The city also had to deal with the volatile Berbers, the indigenous inhabitants of the area where Carthage was built. In 146 BCE, after the third and final Punic War, Carthage was destroyed and then occupied by Roman forces. Nearly all of the other Phoenician city-states and former Carthaginian dependencies fell into Roman hands from then on.

  Hannibal is the most famous Carthaginian and considered one of the greatest military commanders of all time.

  The Himalayas is a mountain range in Asia separating the plains of the Indian subcontinent from the Tibetan plateau.

  The Himalayan range is home to some of the planet’s highest peaks, including the highest, Mount Everest. The Himalayas have profoundly shaped the cultures of South Asia. Many Himalayan peaks are
sacred in both Hinduism and Buddhism.

  The Sherpas are an ethnic group from the most mountainous region of Nepal.

  Sherpas are highly regarded as elite mountaineers and experts in their local terrain. They were invaluable to early explorers of the Himalayan region, serving as guides at the extreme altitudes of the peaks and passes in the region, particularly for expeditions to climb Mount Everest. Today, the term is often used by foreigners to refer to almost any guide or porter hired for mountaineering expeditions in the Himalayas, regardless of their ethnicity. Because of this usage, the term has become a slang byword for a guide or mentor in other situations.

  Which means that not all sherpas are Sherpas.

  The Alps are an entirely different mountain range located in Europe.

  The man has no interest in visiting either the Alps or the Himalayas.

  If he had to choose one, if a gun were put to his head, he’d choose the Alps, as he has no interest in visiting Asia.

  The friend says, What happened next?

  The man says, He said Mount Everest is the peak of the Himalayas.

  The friend says, Jesus.

  The man says, Then I said to him, I’m afraid I will have to leave soon.

  The friend says, I bet you weren’t actually afraid.

  The man says, I wasn’t, no.

  The friend says, Did he say anything?

  The man says, I think he was disappointed.

  The friend says, He probably wanted to serenade you.

  The man says, He did.

  The friend says, What do you mean, he did?

  The man says, He serenaded me. I wasn’t going to mention it.

  The friend says, What happened?

  The man says, He opened his guitar case and pulled out his guitar.

  The friend says, What a crisis.

  The man says, It was frightening, yes. But, also, it was nice. He had a nice voice.

  The friend says, Fuck him and his nice voice. That’s not right, in the middle of the day like that, in broad daylight, you minding your own business.

  The man says, I know.

  The friend says, What did he sing?

  The man says, He called it a thirty-minute song in three-quarter time.

  The friend says, Was it that long? I should hope not.

  The man says, It went something like, Hallelujah I’m a bum, hallelujah bum again.