(Part 1 of many; an excerpt from a story I am working on)
It is a large table. A table for holding court, thick column legs sunken into the earth. The surface smoothed and pitted where many hands rested, pressed, tapped, and slammed. I am used to being invited to backyard barbecues and birthday parties. I usually know what to expect. But here I don’t know what Hector had invited me to in his backyard. A voicemail and a text after ten years and here I am just going along with it.
A particularly cool night for summer, the moon illuminates everything into a minimalist’s interpretation of the world. A chair from his kitchen table was set out for me next to where Hector would sit, a tree stump with a couch cushion set on top. I am told the others would bring their own chairs and we sit and wait for their arrival. I want to ask what he’s been up to all these years, but his invitation was strangely absent an awareness that so much time has passed. Anyway, small talk seems a vulgarity and so we largely sit in silence.
It is probably half an hour before Hector finally speaks up to let me in on the routine for how the meeting would start. He tells me Mars will arrive first, being unable, no matter how hard he tried, to escape punctuality. Aquino will be next, but not before wandering into and out of nearly every other backyard on the block. A chorus of wailing cats and dogs will announce the arrival of Damaris. Freya will call to say she isn’t feeling well, and then ask if Wellington is coming. As soon as he hangs up with Freya, Wellington will show up and immediately ask about Freya and after Hector explains that Freya isn’t feeling well, Freya will arrive. They’ve had these meetings for years, each one holding to exactly the same routine, and Hector has long given up trying to change it.
My Box of Unfinished Projects 