A Better Card

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Here, I’ll find you a better card.”

“These prompts are silly Mel, I feel like I’d rather just talk if we’re going to talk.”

“Oh my god Henry, we have to play this or we never will. I think Lindsey and John gave us this, right?”

“If we aren’t thinking of these ourselves, does it really count?”

“I just think it’ll be fun. I feel like we never talk about deep stuff anymore Hen. I mean, unless we’re fighting. Did you want to fight instead?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Okay, if you want to. Just a couple more.”

“Found one! Okay, it says: ‘What is your first memory?’ The first one you can remember, I guess, is what it means.”

“The first solid one, where it’s complete. Hmm, probably from when I was about six years old. I was on the swing, or maybe the monkey bars? On a playground. I went too high and fell and got the wind knocked out of me. I remember coming to, on the ground. On those woodchips they used to put under everything. Why did they use woodchips? I feel like those hurt more.”

“That’s your first memory? Getting hurt?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s what came to mind. Alright, see, this is why I don’t like these. So much pressure to have some profound answer and it never lives up to the expectation of the question.”

“Okay, okay, sorry you’re right - that’s your answer. I just thought it would be nicer. Pick one for me. Maybe mine will end up just as dark.”

“Can you pass me my water please? Thanks. Let’s see…oh okay. Well I hope this doesn’t go too dark. ‘What is your first memory of me?’ ”

“Ooh that’s a good one!. See, this could be a very romantic game.”

“Could be…we’ll see if you say nice things about my haircut from back then.”

“Oh my god. It was awful. Sorry. But no, very first memory, very first impression? You had a winter hat on. Thank god.”

“Thank god.”

“We were meeting for coffee and that snow was so bad. And you saw me struggling to get out of my car. You ran over with your shovel and plowed the way for me to get inside. Remember?”

“Of course.”

“See? Very romantic. Then we got inside and you took off your hat. That was not good. But the shoveling saved you.”

“Very funny. Speaking of haircuts, I think I should get one this weekend right? What do you think about -”

“No, nice try, Henry. We’re playing the game and it’s your turn. You won’t get out of it that easily. I’m having fun. We’re having fun. I like really talking.”

“I know. It’s just, I hate being put on the spot and I feel like these things are designed for one type of answer and I -”

“Henry, please. I think it’s good for us.”

“Okay, if you want to do it then I do too.”

“Your next card is…’What memory would you take with you if you could only take one?’ When you die I guess. I wish they’d explain more”

“Hello? A memory?”

“I’m thinking. This is a hard one. Why am I getting all the hard ones?”

“Oh come on, I can think of like five for you right now.”

“You can think of them for me? You have no idea what I’m thinking of.”

“Okay, harsh.”

“Sorry, it’s just, honestly very hard. Um, okay what about when we first met? The shoveling. That’s good. I’d take that one.”

“No, you can’t do that. You have to have another one. Jesus, Hen, you can’t think of one positive memory you’d want to take?”

“Well no, I mean, I have positive memories. I’m trying to think of something nice, but that’s not what is coming to me. That’s why I don’t like to play these. It’s looking for a specific answer. You’re looking for a specific answer. But that’s not what comes to mind for me. And now I can’t get my mind to think of anything else. I’m sorry. Let’s just do the next one. Here, okay, yours is ‘Which memory do you -’”

“No, Henry. This is crazy. You can’t think of one fucking memory from, oh I don’t know, the last three fucking years you’d like to take with you? If you died tomorrow? Nothing?”

“Please, Mel, it’s not like that. It’s just…when I think about it, there isn’t something positive that comes right away. But I’m still thinking of memories. I’m thinking of all the shitty things I’ve done. The bad things that have happened. Like imperfect, human things that aren’t necessarily good or positive or wholesome. Regrets and guilt and sadness. And then all I can think about is how fucked up it is that those are the memories that come up. And then there’s no space left for a positive one to even pretend.”

“Jesus Christ, Hen.”

“I know, it’s messed up. I’m trying not to feel like everything is a mistake all the time. Sorry, let’s do a different -”

“Sorry, but I can’t just…just hear you say all this. You’re so miserable with your life, our life, with me that you can’t even lie for a game? You can’t conjure up one little memory of us that makes you feel better?”

“But it’s not just a game now Mel. See, this is what I wanted to avoid. It’s expectations and feelings and self-minimizing for the sake of others. Its attachment to an ideal and the way that I want others to see me and the way I think that they think that I think I want to be seen and having to come up with a baseline of humanity to tap into while not delving too deep to scare people off. That’s what this shit is. So no, I’m not going to pretend that everything is fine for a game.”

“Oh well that’s just perfect. Take the high ground. Philosophize. Tell me what it means to be human when you’re too busy being punished and punishing everyone around you just for the mistake of you being born into the world. You’re too good for fun and games? You’re too broken, too unworthy for one positive memory? What the fuck Henry.”

“You’re right Mel, sure, I’ll just cover it up as usual. I’ll cover myself piece by piece until you’re comfortable enough to play a card game with me. And I’ll just be inside of all the pieces, watching all the bad memories that come to me, over and over again. Maybe I’m already dead and this is the memory I took to torture myself. And if not then I really am fucked because I already hope everyday that when I die I won’t have to relive all the ones I already do..”

“We’ve had so much good, Henry, but I guess I’m the only one who remembers that. So maybe I should just go. I was hoping this game would be fun, bring you out of your funk, bring you back to me. But maybe I should just leave you with your sadness. It’s apparently the one thing you can’t live without. Bye Henry.”

******

“Oh my god, remember this game?”

“Oh wow. That almost broke us up. We should donate it. Bad juju.”

“Yeah, good idea. Let another couple find it and fight. Actually, we’d be doing them a service. That was the start of something good wasn’t it?”

“After the big fight? Sure. Really good. Maybe we should donate it to Lindsey and John, they might need it pretty soon.”

“Henry! That’s harsh. And true. No, wait, I think they gave it to us, actually. I’ll bring it this weekend to the thrift store.”

“Great, thanks Mel.”

“Oh here it is! The question. I think it was at least: ‘What memory would you take with you if you could only take one?’ Remember?”

“Yes I do. You know what? I actually have an answer. We can deduct points for it taking a year. I remember, right after that big fight I drove south a few hours, down to some little town on the beach. Forgot the name. I sat in a cafe where the walls opened up and the breeze came in and you could just see the water from over the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street. There were peeks of blue down a hill where the sidewalks ran straight to the beach and everything was so quiet. It was so peaceful. Calming. Like I could just melt away into the present. And I did. I felt like if life ever got to be too much, I’d just walk away and find that cafe again and start over. I’d take that: that realization, that feeling of being free from all the things holding me back, from being in my own way. That’s how I feel now, with you.”

“Wow, Henry, that’s beautiful. Should have said something like that the first time.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Maybe we could go sometime.”

“I’d like that. A new memory to take with us.”