Mina's Question

The general behaviors of some folks invite occasional examination, perhaps a prod short of a rebuff. To anyone else it would have been a subtle nudge, but to Marcus, Mina's question hit like a sandbag dropped from a tree. To one whose very core is built of interlocking beams of honesty, such innocent enquiries strike at being. They communicate, "We don't think you are you."

You would never choose Macaluso to cover you socially if it required saying what isn't so. Why weren't you going to attend the wedding? "Your fiancee is an ass hole ...  he's porking your bride's maid..." Totally honest but not socially constructive. Legal repercussions of a cancelled wedding? Yes. His defense to his totally confounded wife was, "Didn't we tell the kids to pee before we took a big trip?" All she could say was, "That's it? That's it? That's all you can say?" He just did a sheepish neck down sad eyed, "Mmm yeah, I guess. Did'em a favor. " There is a personal cost to honesty. It can be lonely. One loses privacy. Evasion, short of physical evasion is impossible. To any discriminating observer, I'd rather not answer, is as clear an answer as answers get. Evasion even adds an unwanted dimension of perceived guilt to perceived fact, warranted or not.

Mina was sharing her day and laughing about the supposed indiscretions of certain women according to conversations at the ladies club yesterday, even though Marcus wasn't getting into it. His series of robotic yes dear's was consistent with his not liking gossip. Mina knew that. So why was she punishing him with that kind of idle clack? Well so and so was doing such and such behind this one or that one's back. Yap yap yap yap yap. Though he never cut off her feminine interests, he just usually suffered them through, "Yes, I really like the off white doilies. That was a nice choice," as if he really cared. But that was not an issue of honesty but of concession to marital well being. But, somehow, in some way, the deeper unspoken subject was advancing, slowly, by indirection, subtly, but clearly toward him. He couldn't take it anymore. "Mina! What's the point?" What has all this stuff got to do with me? was stamped on his impatient expression.

Whack! He asked. "Marcus. Are you sleeping with Shannon?"

If he had a bowling ball to his lips it would have been sucked in. "What!? Jesus H. Christ! What the hell is THAT?"

"You didn't answer."

"NO! Not. Nyent. Nix Didn't ever. Am not. Ain't planning to. Havn't tried and failed. Haven't even thought about it! Holy shit! What's, what's, what is THAT about?"

"Just asking."

"Oh, right!" but he was looking at her askance as she was doing a coy head bobbling diversion which in female body language says I'm just testing you. But it didn't work. "OK. Who's feeding you this crap?"

"Nobody. Well. They whisper and I can't help but hear. I knew you would never do that," but then the zinger, "Right?" sparked him off again. This time the telephone was getting a bit flattened by the emphatic number strikes.

"Same toots."

"What?"

"No matter how hard you hit the buttons, you get the same tones."

Marcus grumbled, "ubi uber, ibi tuber," as he misdialed for the third straight time. Mina smiled, "I'm a rose, am I?" to his immediate, "Yes. Aspiring to be a thorn."

"Who you calling?"

"Shannon? Oh, hi John. Fine, thanks. Yes I am.. we are. Kilt, of course, as always. Shannon there? Great. ... Shannon? Here, I'm going to put Mina on. She wants to know.." handing the receiver to Mina with his mouth following the mouthpiece, "..if you and I had sex," relinquishing the phone.

"Hi Shannon. S'me, Mina. Yes. Yes. That was the question. Uh huh. Uh huh. OK, I'll ask. Shannon wants to know which days, specifically, we are talking about and what you were wearing. It'll jog her memory."

Across the room at top volume, "Shannon! Cut that out! " but Mina was laughing and now holding her hand to cover her mouth and the mouthpiece. This was deep girl talk. No men allowed.

"Hey. What'r you two cooking up? Hey. This about me? Hey. Mina." But Mina was fallen against the wall in tears with laughter. Now she lapsed with her protective hand and blurted, "Yes. Hung like a horse! "

"Who? Who's a horse? Hey. Who'ya talking about?" as Mina pointed her finger his way.

"Me? I'm, uh.. I'm.. average.. uh.." was cut off by Mina's assertion, "Shannon's sources say you're hung like a horse. Which is what I heard."

"What?"

"Rumors. Seems you two are the topic of a rumor rampage," then slam dunking with an I know Latin too, smarty pants, "omni vivum ex ovo... Bye Shannon."

But Marcus was in a state of deep preoccupation, reciting aloud, but to himself, "Night, the mother of Hunger, also gave birth to Misery, Envy, Fear, Deceit, Fraud, Obstinacy, Poverty, Want, Fretfulness, Sickness, Old Age, Pallor, Darkness, Sleep, Death, and Charon." His head drooped in dark introspection that seemed to go nowhere. Deeper. Deeper. More and more detached, a flight of inner self and recollection.

Mina knew to let these spells run their courses. Rightly so, snapping to, he spun toward Mina, eyes brightened, with his right finger pointed up in firm assertion, "From a bad crow, a bad egg!"

Mina was afraid to ask, "Who's the crow?"

"Exactly!"