Convergence Theatre

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53: Twice Tossed

WWe were supposed to stay in our home. Shelter in Place, be on the look out for symptoms. We’re over 60. He’s had lung cancer. I’ve had heart issues since my 30’s. He likes to gamble on line, thinks I don’t know about it. He’s never become out of control about it until now. I wish it were just porn. So tense. All day long. Until he wins again. Then he’s easy. But he keeps playing. And to be fair, he only uses his own account. Private money. Never from our joint account. Still...I can’t be in this house, I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen, something bad.

So I walk. Everyday, I leave in the morning and come home in the late afternoon. I wear a mask, one of the ones from when we renovated 6 years ago. I walk down to the water. There are lots of people there, walking their dogs, walking their kids, walking their spouses and friends...Some are social distancing, some are not. I keep my tablets in my purse, in case I feel it start to come on. And a thermometer. Some water, some snacks because I’m not buying anything, and some tissue for when I need to go in the bushes. Like joyless camping, homeless but with a home I don’t want to live in. I walk along the harbour front, find beaches with dogs and lovers and kids. It’s cold and they can’t swim, but they still play in the sand. I find bits of glass that look like stones...and on one particular day I find an old man who’s also picking glass off the beach.

He’s got brown eyes with gold flecks in them, white hair shaved around the ears and along the back - military, a scar on his chin. He wears an old coat, well made and warm in the wind. Tall, lean and strong, he’s in surprisingly good shape. He’s not wearing a mask, but he carries one. I remember a younger man with the same build, who had a scar and eyes and a hair cut just like his.

“Will?” He looks at me. “Will is that you? I mean, sorry if it’s not, but you look just like someone I used to know”...And then that smile. A smile full of mischief.

I come closer to him. He looks down, “Jen... “

“It’s been a long time...How are you?”

A shrug.“How’s it going?”

Eyeing the beach, watching the seagulls. “Same as everyone else I guess, trying to stay alive, stay sane. Are you in this city now?” “My wife’s mother, we’re staying with her until this settles down”. Stares at the glass in his hands.

A woman’s voice from the path coming down “Will! Can you come help me here! She’s fallen!” Walkie Talkie voices. Sounds of things happening. Anxious chatter.

“Excuse me Ma’am?” a uniformed someone is beside me, writing me a ticket for not following social distancing protocols. I drop my glass and run. And I can run, for a bit...and then I have to stop. I got away. I need to sit. The benches are all taped off. I lean against a tree. I’m shaking, sweating and my heart is hammering. I wonder is this another attack! No....This is ridiculous. I can’t believe I just ran away from him for the second time.

Art inspired by this confession…

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