Reviews for M.W. Lee

Parcae stood to stretch her legs while allowing Mark time to reflect about what he just remembered while she strategized her next afront.

Mark refused to consider the significance of the memory, choosing instead to attempt to hide in sleep.

Parcae considered. It seems to me that if left alone, his memory inclines toward dishonesty. In lying to himself, he can’t or won’t learn. He needs to ask himself who he was in the relationship, but most importantly, who he was to Sammy. He needs to face this honestly.

She nosed about the room, acting like a nosy mother-in-law eavesdropping on the private conversation in the adjacent the next room.

“I wonder,” she spoke out loud to Mark, “why did Sammy date you?”

Mark though for a moment before replying, I liked his sense of humor.

Parcae sighed. “That’s you, not him.”

I’m good-looking.

“You going to include dick size too, shallow man?” Parcae snapped. “I asked why he—” she stressed the he “—dated you.”

I don’t know why he dated me. We never talked about it, Mark thought, matching her snappy tone.

“Yes, you did. Remember, after you’d been dating for a couple of months, he told you.”

Mark searched for the memory without finding it, so he remained still, his mind becoming blank.

Parcae ambled about the room, swishing her crinolines, which sounded like children playing in piles of dead autumn leaves. The sound cleared the air around Mark, and he felt the pinch of crisp autumn evenings, smelled the scents of autumn, burning leaves, warm cider, and funnel cakes. Mark’s memory opened and brought him back to the first Friday in October, when he and Sammy decided on an impromptu date to ride rides, play bad carnival games, and eat junk food at the Big Seven County Fair.

A smile came across Mark’s face, which Parcae noticed and approved. Instead of allowing him to rely on his own memory to show his past, she created a vivid memory so that she could observe how the memory touched him.

“Exactly,” Parcae said. “A good memory. Good memories bring clarity to past relationships.”

Mark thought, How do they do that?

“Comparison,” Parcae said. “Who you were then compared to who you were when you broke up.”

As her crinolines swished, Mark’s memory cleared. Instead of a scene being replayed as a motion picture, the memory flashed a series of slides so that Mark experienced a photo album of their date at the fair. The view was that of the gods.

Mark observed –

Mark and Sammy laughing as Mark pressed against him on the scrambler. Sammy’s wide mouth created a half joking yet half fearful expression.

Mark commented, When the ride stopped, Sammy showed me that the mechanism hadn’t closed properly.

The next slide: Mark exaggerated a baseball pitch as he attempted the Milk Bottle Toss. Sammy stood with his hands in prayer position against his mouth with an exaggerated hopeful expression.

Mark thought, I could just be silly with him, and he’d join in.

The next slide: Both of them standing in line for the Spook House. Mark noticed his arm resting on Sammy’s shoulder, as if he were leaning on Sammy.

Mark observed, I was being affectionate but unsure because of the location. Sammy never seemed bothered.

The next slide: Mark saw them sitting at a small picnic table under a canopy at the Penniless Pig, sharing a large plate of loaded fries. The slide transformed to a motion picture.

“What were you doing on the swings?” Mark asked.

“Being silly,” Sammy laughed as he devoured some fries. “In Germany, riders get the swings to spin around, and they reach for each other, and push each other back and forth. It gets harder as the ride gets faster. I was trying to do that.”

“Is that allowed?” Mark asked.

“Don’t know,” Sammy said. “since all we do is sit, either it isn’t allowed or no one’s thought of it. But … um …” Sammy paused.

Mark noticed Sammy glancing away, smiling, embarrassed, in that special kind of embarrassment when the lover admits he likes the beloved. On the sofa, Mark recognized his heart’s increase of excitement.

“Well,” Sammy continued, “Sometimes a couple would reach out and grab hands and pull each other closer. I was attempting to be romantic.”

“Did you want to hold hands?” Mark asked affectionately, without a hint of mockery.