Late in the Day 2009, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 30 inches, by permission of the artist, Max Ferguson.
PAUL and REBECCA FEEL the pleasantness of the sun on their faces. PAUL WATCHES a young couple pushing a stroller. HE WONDERS if he will still be alive on the child’s first day at school. HE CALCULATES he’ll be eighty-three years old. REBECCA SPOTS a seagull on the wing. SHE tries to REMEMBER its Latin name which SHE KNOWS she once knew. HE FEELS a sharp pain in his chest. SHE HEARS a tinny ringing sound deep in the cavity of her right ear. HE SAYS ‘I heard on the radio that Karl Malden died.’ ‘… Oh,’ SHE SAYS ‘… I thought he’d died already.’ SHE SCRATCHES the back of her neck. PAUL LICKS his dry lips.
… … … REBECCA FEARS something unknown … … …
PAUL WHISTLES a tune. In unison, REBECCA SINGS gently under her breath ‘the reason is … because something’s happened to me …’ … and they BOTH RECOLLECT the bald black man in the spotlight at the Café Carlyle. PAUL SMELLS the Jamaican rum he used to drink when they went dancing and SHE HEARS the piano keys tinkling. ‘Is he dead?’ SHE SAYS. ‘Who?’ HE SAYS. In HER MIND’S EYE SHE SEES the face of the pianist, but can’t CONJURE the name. PAUL NOTICES a police helicopter in the distant sky and makes a MENTAL NOTE to put the new car in the garage like he’d promised he would. REBECCA FRETS about her eldest son and his impending redundancy. ‘Bobby Short,’ HE SHOUTS, excitedly. ‘Ah, yes. Of course,’ SAYS REBECCA. ‘… still got a couple of grey cells between us.’ They BOTH SMILE, REBECCA for what she just SAID, PAUL
for what he’d RECALLED. SHE SAYS ‘Lovely and warm still.’ HE SAYS ‘That’s why we came here.’ ‘Yes,’ SAYS REBECCA. ‘For the climate,’ SAYS PAUL. ‘Not just for that,’ SHE SAYS. ‘No,’ HE SAYS, ‘not just for that.’
… … … REBECCA FEELS a sense of loss … … …
They BOTH WATCH a man and woman saunter by, arm in arm. REBECCA RECALLS a walk with Paul on the pier at Coney Island and the sounds of the funfair … when they and love were young. PAUL WORRIES that he will die before REBECCA, leaving her alone. HE BELIEVES it is he who will cope better with widowhood. Getting later,’ SHE SAYS, ‘… all of a sudden.’ ‘Hmm …’ SAYS PAUL. ‘Let’s head back … soon.’ HE WONDERS if he’ll eat the cold chicken in the fridge. SHE THINKS the dog needs a bath.
… … … They BOTH KNOW they’re loved … … …
And they BOTH KNOW that when they get up to go they will REACH for each other’s hand and FEEL the TOUCH and WARMTH of each other’s fingers as they entwine. PAUL and REBECCA STAND UP from sitting. REBECCA TRIES TO REMEMBER when she last took a swim in the ocean. PAUL SINGS WITHOUT REALISING HE IS SINGING ‘I like the likes of you … I like the things you do …’ REBECCA REMEMBERS WITHOUT REALISING SHE’S REMEMBERING a dance in a church hall and the swish and swirl of her frock.
… … … TOGETHER they WALK on. … … …
PAUL and REBECCA FEEL the pleasantness of the sun on their faces. PAUL WATCHES a young couple pushing a stroller. HE WONDERS if he will still be alive on the child’s first day at school. HE CALCULATES he’ll be eighty-three years old. REBECCA SPOTS a seagull on the wing. SHE tries to REMEMBER its Latin name which SHE KNOWS she once knew. HE FEELS a sharp pain in his chest. SHE HEARS a tinny ringing sound deep in the cavity of her right ear. HE SAYS ‘I heard on the radio that Karl Malden died.’ ‘… Oh,’ SHE SAYS ‘… I thought he’d died already.’ SHE SCRATCHES the back of her neck. PAUL LICKS his dry lips.
… … … REBECCA FEARS something unknown … … …
PAUL WHISTLES a tune. In unison, REBECCA SINGS gently under her breath ‘the reason is … because something’s happened to me …’ … and they BOTH RECOLLECT the bald black man in the spotlight at the Café Carlyle. PAUL SMELLS the Jamaican rum he used to drink when they went dancing and SHE HEARS the piano keys tinkling. ‘Is he dead?’ SHE SAYS. ‘Who?’ HE SAYS. In HER MIND’S EYE SHE SEES the face of the pianist, but can’t CONJURE the name. PAUL NOTICES a police helicopter in the distant sky and makes a MENTAL NOTE to put the new car in the garage like he’d promised he would. REBECCA FRETS about her eldest son and his impending redundancy. ‘Bobby Short,’ HE SHOUTS, excitedly. ‘Ah, yes. Of course,’ SAYS REBECCA. ‘… still got a couple of grey cells between us.’ They BOTH SMILE, REBECCA for what she just SAID, PAUL
for what he’d RECALLED. SHE SAYS ‘Lovely and warm still.’ HE SAYS ‘That’s why we came here.’ ‘Yes,’ SAYS REBECCA. ‘For the climate,’ SAYS PAUL. ‘Not just for that,’ SHE SAYS. ‘No,’ HE SAYS, ‘not just for that.’
… … … REBECCA FEELS a sense of loss … … …
They BOTH WATCH a man and woman saunter by, arm in arm. REBECCA RECALLS a walk with Paul on the pier at Coney Island and the sounds of the funfair … when they and love were young. PAUL WORRIES that he will die before REBECCA, leaving her alone. HE BELIEVES it is he who will cope better with widowhood. Getting later,’ SHE SAYS, ‘… all of a sudden.’ ‘Hmm …’ SAYS PAUL. ‘Let’s head back … soon.’ HE WONDERS if he’ll eat the cold chicken in the fridge. SHE THINKS the dog needs a bath.
… … … They BOTH KNOW they’re loved … … …
And they BOTH KNOW that when they get up to go they will REACH for each other’s hand and FEEL the TOUCH and WARMTH of each other’s fingers as they entwine. PAUL and REBECCA STAND UP from sitting. REBECCA TRIES TO REMEMBER when she last took a swim in the ocean. PAUL SINGS WITHOUT REALISING HE IS SINGING ‘I like the likes of you … I like the things you do …’ REBECCA REMEMBERS WITHOUT REALISING SHE’S REMEMBERING a dance in a church hall and the swish and swirl of her frock.
… … … TOGETHER they WALK on. … … …
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