Sunsets and Silencers

Bound to Roam

Dylan came to New Orleans for a convention, something to do with small hotels, he said, though Veronica couldn't find anything about the convention on the internet.  She met him for drinks at the top of the Marriott.  As soon as they sat, he told her he'd won a door prize, a trip for two upriver on the Mississippi Queen.  Five days, from New Orleans to Memphis.  He wouldn't have time for a couple months, he said, but wondered if she'd like to join him on the cruise.  Veronica said she didn't have any personal leave, and forced her laugh.

He said he understood and talked about hotels while she watched a barge on the river below.  It wasn't moving.  A few minutes later he asked, "Is that really the reason?  Work?"

Veronica looked at him, then her wine glass, rotated the stem between her thumb and forefinger, and smiled for a moment.  "Remember Klein, from college?  The one with the famous little sister?" she said and swallowed some wine, then ran her tongue over her top teeth.  She told him everything.  "That's been almost fifteen years and I haven't been able to get my shit together since then."

Dylan nodded his head a few times, then looked over to the bar, held up two fingers.  "Two more, please?"

Maggie's on that cheesy teen primetime soap?" Dylan asked.  "I watched part of that in my room last night.  They were talking about Flaubert.  It made me laugh.  The brunette-is that Maggie?  Isn't she too old to play a college student?-she was flirting with her professor, asked him what was the best ending in all of literature, and he said Sentimental Education."

"And she asked what happened," Veronica said.

"Yeah," Dylan said.  "So he answers, 'nothing, really, just two old friends sitting around, remembering the best thing that never happened.' Then explains Flaubert thought anticipation was the purest form of pleasure. Reality always disappoints, yadda yadda.  Anticipated experiences can't dim. 'Always engraved in your heart with a sort of sweet sadness.'  Something like that," Dylan said.

"And Maggie says that's cowardly," Veronica said.  The waiter bought their second glasses of wine but left their first, empty ones on the table.

 "So when did the thing happen, with Maggie," Dylan asked.

 "After my parents died," she said.  "Couple weeks."

 "Veronica," he said.

 Veronica said, "I know."

"You were grieving.  Not the Maggie thing, but maybe I can help, with the other.  I was there," Dylan said.  "Sort of."

"Doesn't that seem too easy?" Veronica said, picking up the new glass.  "Have you read Sentimental Education?"

 "No," Dylan said.

 "Me neither," Veronica said.

Vallie Lynn Watson received her PhD from the Center for Writers, where she is assistant managing editor of Mississippi Review. Lynn's recent flash fiction can be found in Pindeldyboz, Product, Journal of Truth and Consequence, 971 Menu, and Ghoti.