—Do you plan to tell the doctor all my secrets?
—She won’t be testing for secrets.
—Suppose I tell her yours?
—You don’t remember them.
—That’s not fair.
—No.
—Will you come in with me?
—If the doctor wants me to.
—What if I want you to?
—Then yes, if she lets me.
—I never meant to live this long.
—I’m not happy about it either.
—What should we take to the party?
—He’s your brother.
—But what if he were your brother?
—Then it would be my choice.
—I’m going to need you to pay for it.
—That doesn’t make it my choice.
—Give me your hand.
—You can have both.
—This is your life line. Head line. Heart line.
—I thought you said I didn’t have a heart.
—See this break? That’s a trauma you survived.
—It must be when I met you.
—Then I should have one too. Oh look. Nothing. You’re not significant enough for my life line.
—Maybe I wasn’t traumatic.
—What should we bring for a gift?
—I’ll take you shopping later.
—Are you baking a cake?
—Very funny. I ordered the cake.
—Do we need a gift then too?
—That’s up to you.
—Did we decide you’re coming in with me?
—I’ll ask if the doctor wants me to.
—Don’t go! No. We’ll wait.
—We could ask together.
—What sort of doctor is she?
—Don’t you remember?
—That man is listening to us.
—What else can he do?
—Is he looking at me?
—Every man looks at you. Secretly.
—Really? Do you look at me?
—Yes, but I think about other women. Secretly.
—I knew it.
—Are you coming in with me?
—Your doctor said no.
—Will you be here when I come out?
—Of course, sweetheart. How can you ask that?
Copyright © January 20, 2008 David Hodges
Very Short Novels 
11 comments
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January 20, 2008 at 5:37 pm
briseis
Your dialogs are always so rich and terrifying. I think you’ve Hemingway’s “iceberg principle” down to a T.
Thank you, Briseis. I don’t know what I like more about overheard dialogs: what they tell or what they keep to themselves.
–David
January 21, 2008 at 4:02 am
Jillian
Wow. I really liked this one. They seem so… cold. And they hurt each other so easily. Strange.
Thank you, Jillian. I wonder if they hear that.
–David
January 21, 2008 at 8:14 am
Wizzer
This is so sad. How many conversations go on like this day after day?
There’s a line in a song (can’t remember the title right now) “…life goes on, long after the thrill of living has gone” These dialogues put me in mind of that sentiment
You’re thinking of John Mellencamp’s “Jack and Diane.” Thanks, Wizzer.
–David
January 21, 2008 at 10:30 am
litlove
Wow, I’m impressed that you could identify that song. I’m momentarily distracted by that. But this is extraordinarily good, so bittersweet in its ambivalent exchanges, and funny too, in the way that comedy and tragedy nestle side by side. I do wonder what the couple really think they are saying to each other. You bring out the private dimension of public language beautifully.
Thank you so much, Litlove. Situation, audience, body language and tone so nuance what we say it isn’t fair to isolate the mere words as if they carried the meaning. (Since when does fiction play fair?) As for the song, any lyric that begins “Suckin’ on a chili dog outside the Tasty-Freeze,” tends to stick in the mind, or my mind at least. And if that’s not a good example of the private dimension of public language, I can’t think of one.
–David
January 21, 2008 at 3:31 pm
grantman
..you captured the moment beautifully, David… the fact that they are sharing it together is sadly a rarity these days…I believe it was a promise to love, honor and cherish one another in sickness and health all the days of their lives…it’s nice to think some really meant it..
Grantman
Thanks, Grantman. Those vows don’t say anything about being nice to one another!
–David
January 21, 2008 at 5:06 pm
Paul White
Hmmm, I read that a bit differently. I didn’t take their barbs as hurtful at all. In fact, these two strike me as the types that would sit in stony silence if they were displeased with each other. This exchange seemed to me to be somewhat playful, saying things outsiders would have no way of interpreting properly since they’re not privy to the language this couple has developed after so many years together.
Thanks, Paul. I’m glad you read it that way and had the courage to speak up. I’ve heard couples say perfectly horrible things to one another and then bust up laughing, or not, depending on the circumstances. Who knows what keeps people together, and taking one another to doctor’s appointments, year after year?
–David
January 22, 2008 at 7:38 am
Wizzer
This is what is so outstanding about your writing David. The interpretation of your words by different people. Is there a right or wrong? I don’t think there should be. Life is all about perceptions and those perceptions or viewpoints are each individual’s reality.
I really enjoy reading others’ comments (thanks Paul & Grantman) – it teaches me that I’m not right all of the time 😉
It does the same for me. Thanks, Wizzer.
–David
January 22, 2008 at 11:50 am
grantman
Dave, Wizzer and Paul… I’ve been taking care of the elderly for thirty years.. and am often surprised by the love that I know people feel but sometimes have such a hard time of showing… I once had a couple that fought consistently but when she passed away, he didn’t last a month without her..dying of a broken heart!! Great piece…
Grantman
I don’t have as much experience as you, Grantman, but I have seen this too.
–David
January 23, 2008 at 3:41 am
BT Cassidy
I love the use of dialog alone to create scene, setting and character- I’ve said it before, you’re a master of your art.
Thanks, BT. Next time, I’ll try to do something with scene alone.
–David
January 23, 2008 at 9:26 am
Teresa
I hear old, affectionate, forgetful, repetitive, teasing, fretful, familiar, scared. I can see them holding hands in the waiting room. I think it is an Alzheimer’s doctor, but maybe that is just me. My granddad used to say he spent the last 35 years of his marriage making up for the first 35, and that memory is blending into this narrative, adding to my feeling of listening to a conversation in progress. Kind of dopplery. Nice, subtle, complex. Thanks, David.
Thank you, Teresa. While you’re in it, that marriage computation keeps sliding, doesn’t it? Have I spent the last 14 years of marriage making up for the first 14, or will I need another 28 years to celebrate these first 28?
–David
January 23, 2008 at 9:38 am
wailin
The love/hate relationship with you continues. Powerful dialogue is hard for me. Especially without explanation of motivation, tone, and other pieces to add context.
Love without hate would not be very satisfying, wailin. Thanks for hanging in there.
–David