1. Twenty Questions
Did you take out the trash? Did you water the ficus? Did you cancel the cable? Did you take my black sweater? Did you tell the neighbors? Will you get the friends? What about the cat? Will you send me a Christmas card? Will I tear it up? Did you know that I suspected? Did you know it was obvious? Did you want it to be? Should I have confronted you? Would you have stayed? Did you think you could do better? Were you right? If I killed myself, would you come to my funeral? Did you tell her I'm crazy? Did she believe you? Is that why?
2. It's Me
Six kinds of crazy, he said. That told me everything. It told me enough. You should have been more careful. You should have tried harder. You should have dressed better. (Honestly—that sweater? What were you thinking?) You had your chance, or maybe you didn't have a chance. I didn't steal anything you hadn't already lost. Would it help you to know how I met him? Maybe it was at the gym, maybe it was at a bar. Maybe he stopped me on the street and asked for my phone number. Maybe we work together. Maybe I'm his accountant, his hairdresser, his shrink. Maybe I'm your best friend, or used to be. I can't see that it matters. Don't torture yourself. What's done is done. You're done, honey. You'll get used to it.
3. It's You
It's not me, it's you. Forever you, irredeemably you, unforgivably you. I could live with the cat, the ficus, the sweater. I just couldn't live with you. The neighbors knew it before we did—they way they looked at us on the stairs, the way we couldn't look at each other. Anybody with eyes could see it. She was anybody but you. I admit that was part of the appeal. You were a bridge to nowhere, a dead end, a no-outlet sign. She was the new thing, the fresh start, the one last chance we're all supposed to get. She opened the door. I just walked through it. Anybody would have done the same. Anybody but you.
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I sent my short-short story "Twenty Questions" to an editor who liked it and wanted to see more. That prompted me to write the other two sides of the story. What happens next? Who knows? The title, by the way, is a placeholder until and unless I think of something I like better.
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Ron Silliman's prose thing (novella? not?) called Sunset Debris written entirely in questions precedes Padgett Powell's The Interrogative Mood by at least 20 years. Silliman's noting this was interesting to me in that I almost felt he wanted to trademark the mode. (But can't, obviously!) He called Powell's novel (certainly one?) (certainly) "a pale imitation." Yet when I read from the two rival books, I preferred Powell's. Anyway, I love your 20 questions. I like the three sections together.
So good.
I really identified with the line, "If I killed myself, would you come to my funeral?" I've known some folks in bad relationships who have wondered that about their partners.
I could read these many more times.
i like the intensity the 'maybes' bring. its always the fine line between not knowing and not knowing if you even want to know that kills. well done.
Much obliged for the comments! I'm delighted this seems to have some punch.
Great piece. Like the sections. The form is strong. Your separate approach to each one works well. I think the title works also. I'd keep it.
Thank you, Sam.
FYI, the trio was published in the December 2009 issue of "The Collagist," a really nice new online mag published by Dzanc Books:
http://www.thecollagist.com/archive/December2009/Howard/index.html
Yeah, saw this up at Collagist. I loved the original and was floored that you managed to write two really great followups.
Thank you, Jon. Really glad you found all three worth a read.
hi jennifer--
i really like this piece--yes, yes. form works. is v good.