We took turns opening the refrigerator door and hoping, but no matter how many times we looked inside, the contents never changed. What could have caused such violent hunger pangs? We got out of bed an ddrifted into the kitchen, ending up across the table from each other. On the other hand, we were also too hungry to do anything useful. We both felt too hungry to go back to sleep, but it hurt just to lie there. Groceries were the last things on our minds. I was either twenty-eight or twenty-nine-why can't I remember the exact year we married?-and she was two years and eight months younger. I had a job in a law firm at the time, and she was doing secretarial work at a design school. With only two weeks of married life behind us, we had yet to establish a precise conjugal understanding with regard to the rules of dietary behavior. We had a bottle of French dressing, six cans of beer, two shriveled onions, a sitck of butter, and a box of refrigerator deodorizer. Our refrigerator contained not a single item that could be technically categorized as food. These were tremendous, overpowering hunger pangs.
A few minutes later, the pangs struck with the force of the tornado in The Wizard of Oz. For some reason, we woke up at exactly the same moment. We had eaten a light supper at six, crawled into bed at nine-thirty, and gone to sleep. It hit just before two o'clock in the morning. What reminded me of the bakery attack was an unbearable hunger. I hadn't been planning to bring it up-I had forgotten all about it-but it wasn't one of those now-that-you-mention-it kind of things, either. If you look at it this way, it just so happens that I told my wife about the bakery attack.
I myself have adopted the position that, in fact, we never choose anything at all. Which is to say that wrong choices can produce right results, and vice versa. But then, it might not have been a question of right and wrong. I'm still not sure I made the right choice when I told my wife about the bakery attack.
0 kommentar(er)
