~Saturday, January 08, 2005

Pesky Apostrophes

Apostrophes were a problem for Joan because she could never understand so-called "ownership". Butler, Professor Butler, that is, thought of her as a "feminist"; she wasn't, really, but she never liked him, or Physics 101, very much anyway. Couldn't ever understand Joan, never.

David never understood Joan's aversion to apostrophes either. Easy-going, with the warmest smile and arms this side of the Erie Canal, that was David in a nutshell. Frightened by her quirky sense of right, wrong, love grief, and the occasional bouts with obsessive-compulsive hand-washing techniques, David had left one morning; no good-bye note on the dresser they had bought at that antique store down in his "good ole Kentucky", nor a shadow of a kiss imprinted on Joan's forehead or neck, and there was no hint or trace of David anywhere in their two-bedroom apartment since all of his clothes, including the plaid shirt Joan wrapped around herself when the morning frost settled in November, were gone and not even a suggestion of his musky cologne drifted anywhere.

Guessing that her slightly neurotic exocticness was a turn-off rather than a turn-on, Joan decided to change. Hardly skipping a beat, she cut her hair, dyed it black, and switched from Cover Girl to Maybelline; to see maybe if she could indeed create a face she wasn't born with. In an instant, feigning shyness and much-needed male decorum, Jerry had wandered into her life.
Jerry, with all of his sweet smiles and gentle "I love you" kisses, never felt right to Joan. Killed a woman back in Cincinnati, as it turned out. Lady Luck had been on Joan's side the night she decided to move to Boise; the night the police broke down Jerry's door with a battering ram as he was swearing at the automated "No such number exists" drone because Joan had changed her cell phone number.

Maybe the black hair should go, Joan thought to herself. Neon green? Orange?

Pink was the color she decided upon. Quivering a little as she saw the results of a slightly intoxicated hairdresser, she decided that perhaps the puce her hair turned out to be might be acceptable; it set off her dark blue eyes.

Ryan came next. Solitary, but sweet Ryan. Turned out to be the one for Joan and he asked her to marry him three years after they had met and her puce hair had turned back into its natural golden brown. Unfortunately, he died. Very suddenly, according to the doctors, as there couldn't have been any way to know about his irregular heart.

Women, Joan decided, at least in her case, were never meant to be with anyone, and she mourned.

Xavier came along a year later; he smelled like the roses he cut for Anne's Bridal Bouquet over on Third Street and brought her one every day until she agreed to date him.

You never know, she thought to herself, maybe he could be another "one", and although she thought about the question for a long time, she decided that she couldn't become a part of Xavier's name because it would include those pesky apostrophes she had avoided since second grade.

Zack entered Joan's life about six months after Xavier's door slammed in her face; she wondered if she would ever love enough to be owned by a pesky apostrophe.

remembered rmb @ 7:32 PM