Talia and Carlton

Carlton looked at Talia sitting on the church pew and wished he could somehow comfort her. Instead, he found himself trying to process the off-kilter thoughts that popped into his head.

The way he balled up his socks and launched them into the dresser in the bedroom, basketball style, always bemused his wife. Then again, the list of his quirks – and minor transgressions – was a long one.

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Aside from the Sock Incident of 2004 (“I was aiming for the top drawer and didn’t mean to break your cherub figurine,”) there was the Failure To Put  A Second Coat of Paint On The Garage Door Incident of 2007 (“I know it looks streaky now, but after it dries it’ll probably be fine”); the Undercooked Chicken Incident of 2009 (“I’m pretty sure the meat’s supposed to be purple and slightly cool when you cook it on a gas grill”); the I Didn’t Realize Mrs. Marsh Was Looking Out Her Window When I Peed By The Side Of The House Incident of 2011 (“I’m not sure I want to live in a country where a man can’t drain the weasel without some busy-body spying on him”); and the Whole Milk Incident of 2015 (“I swear to god, I thought it was 1 percent.”)

Carlton was careless and never had an eye for details. He probably deserved to be yelled at for some of the stupid things he’d done – although Talia never yelled because she wasn’t that kind of person. She was, in fact, about the best human being he’d ever met. He, on the other hand, wanted to be a better man but just didn’t quite have the energy to get there.

Oh, over the years he’d thought of himself as a relatively funny guy, and was convinced that was his best quality. But there was more to being an adult than making people laugh (although he truly wished that was all that was required).

Beyond that, he valued his abundant leisure time, which hardly lined up to the constantly-in-motion Talia. While she could always think of things that needed to be done and was ready to jump on any task, he was thinking of ways to put off doing them.

If he wasn’t getting paid to work, he surmised, he didn’t see much reason to work at all. And once he retired from the insurance agency, he figured he had a license to flop.

Lazy streak notwithstanding, he knew he was annoying. He absent-mindedly made a whistling noise while he read, smacked his lips when he ate, slurped when he drank and had a talent for finding that last nerve to get on.

What bothered him today, though, was how little he had cared about “couple time.”

He recalled a conversation he’d had with Talia just a couple of weeks earlier.

“I’m headed to the outlet mall. Why don’t you tag along?” Talia asked.

“Nah, I’m gonna hang around the house,” Carlton whined. “Just don’t have any interest whatsoever in peopling.”

“So, in other words, you’ll just sit around, drink beer and think deep thoughts?”

“Well, actually, most of the deep thoughts will be about beer. But you know I hate shopping, so there’s no point in me going … I’d just slow you down. And, I always get distracted by that cinnamon roll store. Man, those cinnamon rolls are so good they’re sexy.”

Talia shook her head and laughed.

“Well, sorry you aren’t going with me. Maybe next time. I’ll bring you back a cinnamon roll, though.”

“Thanks, hon,” Carlton said, while grabbing for the TV remote. “You’re the best.”

Carlton’s routine involved popping open a beer at noon, eating a frozen pizza, and then concentrating on sports – or one of those ubiquitous man vs. nature shows. It was how he capped off almost every day of retirement.

While Talia liked to hole up in the den to watch something on the Hallmark Channel, Carlton much preferred to sneak away to his man cave to drink more and watch men in caves.

He knew Talia had no interest in seeing a pair of modern day pioneers kill, roast and eat Bigfoot and then wash it down with a piping hot cup of repurposed urine, so he never asked her to join him. And he had no interest in sitting through a show about star-crossed opposites who hooked up during a meet-cute, had no money, but survived on the currency of love.

Thing is, she never complained – not once. She had always accepted him the way he was, even though he had a hard time doing the same.

Especially today.

So here he was, watching her grieve at his funeral, wishing he would’ve lived long enough to say, “Sure, I’ll watch that Hallmark Christmas movie with you. It’ll be fun.”

Sadly, those were words she’d never hear from him because ghosts can’t talk to the living.

Even worse, they don’t get do-overs.

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