‘What?’
‘Remember? We used to be Billie and Jacko, and now we aren’t. When did that happen?’
‘Oh Christ, Milly. You really don’t remember? You changed back to Milly so Willy could be Billy.’
Pause, while Milly frowned out the window.
‘Jeez, it sounds so stupid when you put it like that.’
‘And I went back to Jack when I got that new job at Golden Gate Freight, remember? Anyway, we were born Milly and Jack. Not such a big deal. We were kids when we were Billie and Jacko. It was a phase.’
He signalled for the on-ramp, and they merged into the commuter traffic.
‘When we were married, we were Billie and Jacko to everyone. Even on our wedding invitations. Were we kids then?’
‘I’m trying to concentrate, Milly. Can you please just be quiet for now?’
‘Sorry. It’s just I was thinking about Louise and Chuck’s wedding. And then about when we got married. Forty years ago! And I remember you rushing me that day, just like this morning. Well, later that day, after the reception, we were off to the hotel. You kept worrying about the traffic. You said: Hurry up, Billie, for Christ’s sake, will you please hurry up! I remember it because I hadn’t ever heard you talk like that before, like I really irritated you. Like you didn’t like me one bit anymore, and couldn’t wait to get the honeymoon over with.’
‘Can you look out for the right exit? Is that it?’
‘You seemed like someone I didn’t know at all. Just for a few minutes.’
Jack negotiated the turning, and headed over the overpass to re-enter the freeway.
‘It seems like yesterday,’ said Milly. ‘I can still hear you, and see you, exactly as you were. You were so darn cute. And then you scared me.’
‘How many exits back to the airport, do you remember? Is the long-term parking lot the first exit?’
‘In fact, I seriously wondered if it was all a big mistake.’
Jack sighed heavily. He still flew for Dulcinea business – book fairs in London, New York, Frankfurt, Sydney, Ontario. He didn’t understand how all these new roads had appeared so quickly.
‘Did you hear me? I wondered if I’d made a big mistake in marrying you.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he grunted.
‘It was a really beautiful wedding, though, our wedding, wasn’t it? I still think about it.’
‘Is that it? No, must be the next one.’
‘But it hardly seems like you and me who were in it. Like Billie and Jacko were other people.’
‘It was a long time ago, Milly. Why do you always get in talky moods when I can’t listen? Now, can you please look out for the sign that says long-term parking lot?’
The car ahead braked. Jack didn’t notice the brake lights because just then Milly shouted:
‘Oh my God! I didn’t turn the iron off! I don’t think I did, you know. Do you remember me checking?’
Jack hit his brakes, but too late, and they both watched as they slid into the rear of the car in front. So slow there was no surprise, just their own faces cringing in anticipation of the crunching noise.
‘Godfuckingdamnit, Milly!’
They missed their plane and were given seats on a later one. They used the pay phone and called Sam, who lived a few hours from Madrid. No one answered.
‘It’s the middle of the night there right now. He’ll be asleep,’ said Jack.
Settled in a plane at last, Jack ordered two gin and tonics from the stewardess. Poured both gin bottles into his own glass, and gave the tonics to Milly.
‘It’s all right,’ he said to the staring stewardess. ‘I’m an alcoholic.’
‘I don’t want tonic,’ said Milly.
The stewardess asked her if she’d like anything else, and she said no even though she was actually very thirsty. She sat in silence, staring occasionally out the window, but mostly at the back of the seat in front of her. When they were somewhere over Utah, Jack said to her, without looking at her:
‘Cut it out, Milly. You can cut it out now.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You can stop sulking.’
‘I am not sulking.’
‘Knock it off. You can talk now.’
‘I am talking.’
‘You know what I mean.’
