She Talks Sometimes For Days

He understood her better with his eyes closed. She occasionally took to severe rambling which could last all night if the moment -- or many hours of moments -- took her there. He had learned that his eyes told too much and absorbed too little when she went on talking this way. He assured her that she looked just fine, very nice most of the time, but closing his eyes was the only way.

With closed eyes he made images of her words. Instead of her steadily rocking jaw or the pale white wall behind her, he now saw every last lettuce leaf from her lunch. Every patch, paw, and pee of the puppies she came upon. Every single syllable of her sojourns with her mother. He saw still-lifes, faces, moving images, floating words. Years of media inundation had gifted him with the ability to listen to his wife.

This practice went well -- splendidly he thought -- until two problems arose. First, he began falling asleep. It was so much easier to do with closed eyes, so comfortable. So painful when she would discover it and respond with scolding and a kick to the shin. Second, he began improving on her stories in his mind's eye. Embellishments came more easily as he listened with closed eyes. Her tales of walking from work to car became camel caravans across vast Ankharan deserts. She detailed a broken nail and he saw the first exploration of the earth's core. The chats with her mother now included dragons, always dragons. They made him chuckle. She never seemed the wiser of his practice until the chuckles came.

The chuckles were not the only telltale signs. Soon, he began remembering her life in a different order than she lived it. She had met foreign dignitaries and famous athletes, discovered rare birds and new rock forms, leaped across canyons and dimensions. Her conversations were rife with witty banter and (yes) extraordinary repartee. He loved her adventures as seen behind closed eyes. He dreaded the times when she asked him if he remembered such and such or so and so. Occasionally, she did just that. He would nod or feign confusion and lithely evade her inquisitions. Then, he would close his eyes again and make for her a life far better than the one she thought she lived.