Now Where Were We?
Judy Cabito






Nigel has his face to the windshield and asks for a wrench.

"Could something else do, seems that I can't reach one, Hon," Hazel sighes. 

"Well, maybe a hammer."

"No, I'm sorry Sweets. Really, the only thing I can offer is an eyeglass screwdriver. You know one of those tiny little tools. I bought several sets at the A&P last I was about.  "Guess that'll have to do, Baby Cheeks." 

"Oh, I do love it when you call me that. Say it again please." 

"Baby Cheeks, Baby Cheeks. Now the screwdriver, please." 

Her fingers manage to touch it. She rolls it her way until she can feel the full of it in her hand. She crosses her arm over her chest and the seatbelt.

  "Can you reach it, Love?" 

"No, not quite. Perhaps if you try swinging your arm a bit." 

She flings her arm back like a fly fishing rod and then with all her might she swings it again over her chest at the sound of a bone snapping. 

"Ow," he says. 

"That's all I've got. Sorry, Dear Heart." 

“Dear Heart, so many memories ago.” 

“Yes, so many memories.” 

"Well, guess that's it then. We tried our best didn't we, Baby Cakes?" 

"Baby Cakes, it's been years and years since you've called me Baby Cakes. Do you remember? We were somewhere on the Nile and that horrid couple, oh you must remember the McGin…oh what was their name?" 

“McGwans.” 

“Oh yes, McGwans kept following us from room to room trying to get our attention. For heaven’s sake we were on our honeymoon, what were they thinking? Anyway you said, ‘Come on Baby Cakes lets dodge them. Remember?” 

"Yes, of course, Baby Cakes, Baby Cakes, Baby Cakes. Perhaps, I'll call you that over and over until…" 

"Until? Let's not think about 'until', let's just concentrate on our memories."

They could hear the whining of the car’s clock and an occasional car passing over the bridge above, clippity-clop, clippity-clop. 

He says, "Maybe there's something you can do with your free toes before the car fills up entirely with water. Any thoughts on that, Schnookems?".


First published: February 2018
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