Kay Remembered

I am reminded of a little story of “Kay” and “Paul” that will always linger in my mind. The time and greater context aren’t important, for the moment stands easily upon it’s own merits.

Just imagine a school bus full of people, people a bit subdued after a long trip. Paul is driving, with Kay alone in the seat immediately behind him. Most of the occupants tended towards the rear of the bus. I know that I was a row or two behind Kay, on the opposite side of the aisle.

On a long drive through busy traffic, suddenly caught in a jam Paul sees a landmark that strikes a chord. He and Kay are back in their hometown, they grew up blocks apart, though they didn’t meet until college. Paul is in a jovial, nostalgic mood, and as usual, is pleased to share his reminiscences.

“Hey there’s the Planetarium. Boy, do I remember some good times there,” he called over the chatter, drawing a momentary silence and the attention of the whole crowd. “That was one of the best places to go parking in the whole city.”

I could see him looking in the mirror above, but I didn’t know if he was glancing at Kay, or to see the reactions of his sudden audience. However, a glance at Kay told me that she had suddenly gone very still.

“Yep,” he continued, with apparent satisfaction, “I remember when Kay and I went parking at the Planetarium. Boy, did we have some fun there.”

Suddenly my eyes were fastened on Kay. And I swear I could feel the cold beginning to emanate from her on that sweltering bus. Yet Paul seemed entirely oblivious.

“Remember that, Kay?” The relish in his voice was evident…I’d almost call it lascivious. It was obvious that Paul certainly had had some good times there at the Planetarium.

Kay, if anything, was only getting stiller. I could feel the chill all the way to my seat.

“Eh, Kay?” Paul verbally nudged. H obviously wanted her to join in the fun, to coax her into acknowledging their adolescent fooling around.

I could almost see the waves of cold now emanating from Kay.

“Kay?” The playfulness was unabated. Though I could still see him looking in the mirror, Paul cannot have been paying the slightest attention to his wife.

Finally, she responded. I could feel the frost in her voice now, sub zero.

“I have never been parking at the Planetarium in my life.”

Her voice was final and absolute. Suddenly everyone busied themselves finding other things to do.

How can a man not remember his own wife any better? In something that had to have been merely a handful of years past? I have remembered, have treasured my handful of memories of Kay.

And this is why I have chosen to write her story.