Tuesday, July 05, 2011

The Spoils of War

The spoils of war must be shared.

He wanted his Maus books back. The series was hard to get his hands on. She placed them in her blue Snoopy bag that she planned to give to him. He had often said he thought it was endearing that despite her love for diamonds and that one specific Argentinian malbec, that she insisted on transporting overnight things in a four year old's bag. She gave him the look of death the first time he made the remark. Nothing that couldn't be repaired with a dash of his charm though.

His Criterion Collection film shelf was missing three DVDs. These she also placed in the bag with the Al Di Meola World Sinfonia CD. Then she paused for a moment and thoughtfully slipped it into her music system (also selected by him). Almost instinctively, she went straight to Track 4, Tango Suite, Pt. 3. The sharp guitar, the seriousness of Piazolla when he composed the number, the strength of the legs that dance to this piece came to mind. Nope, she thought, this one I'll keep. She applied similar logic to a book of interviews with jazz artists (she was keen to one day have the same encyclopedic knowledge of jazz as he did). Even though she was calling the arrangement off, he was still irrepressibly cool.

Somewhere else in the same city, he set aside her Chatwin books, a belt meant specifically for a summer linen dress and black shirt she kept there just in case they had to go out for a fancy dinner. What he didn't return were a pair of delicate jade earrings she loved to wear lying on her bedside table. The peek of green through her long straight hair when she nodded her head excitedly, her slender neck when she threw her head back and laughed - he knew painfully that he'd have to make do with those thoughts now.

The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The comfy Eames chair
The good copper pans
The '54 Strat
These are the things I miss the most

Some spoils of war can be shared. But most of them are memories. What do you do with those?