2/22/11

Artichokie
By Mandi M. Lynch


“I went to the market today.”
“Did you get everything?
“I forgot the artichokes.”
“You always forget the artichokes. I would think after so long you’d remember the artichokes.”
“Why can’t you just buy a jar of the hearts somewhere?”
“You can’t just buy a heart.”
“No shit.”
“Now isn’t the time to be cynical.”
“So what is it the time for?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Give me a reason not to!”
“Don’t be a jackass!”
“Don’t raise your voice to me!”
“It’s better than raising my hand to you, isn’t it?”
“Don’t start on being an ass this early in the evening.”
“Don’t swear.”
“Why? Do you think you’re the morality police now or something?”
“Must you be like this? No artichokes and now this.”
“Like this? How else should I be?” Somebody would like me like this. But not you.”
“No. I’m not somebody. I’m me. And I don’t have an artichoke. What am I supposed to do without an artichoke?”
“Here’s a thought. Take your own sorry ass to the store for once instead of sending me.”
“Don’t…”
“Oh, get over yourself. You’re supposed to be a lawyer. Then you think you should be a chef when you come home and I should be your gopher.”
“This again?”
“We haven’t resolved it from the first time.”
“And we’re not going to resolve it this time, either.”
“Do you somehow resent me? This life style? Something I’ve done or said?”
“What’s there to resent?”
“The Freedom. The lack of responsibility.”
“You really don’t think that your lack of focus is something to be proud of, do you?”
“I’m focused.”
“Oh what?”
“You can’t just buy the hearts, you know.”
“I guess this isn’t just about vegetables, is it?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I owe you an apology. I do love you, you know.”
“I wish you’d show it sometimes.”
“Fuck You.”
“You’re on.”


- - -
Mandi M. Lynch wrote her first story at the tender age of six, pecking out the words with one finger on her mother's manual typewriter. Since then, the writing has improved at a much more rapid pace than the spelling. She lives in Nashville, TN, with three cats, none of which write due to lack of thumbs.