Quiet Sunday Dinners

after

One April day—although Marla thought it was March as her self-tracked timeline was about 6 days off—their door knob turned.

It had been months since they had last seen that door move. In the interim, Marla and Scott had both tried their fists and ramming end tables into it to break it open, but the door must have been reinforced—maybe even magically— because it hadn't budged.

At the creak of the door, Marla and Scott paused their game of chess. It had been one of the entertainments gifted to them about a month ago. Before all the ruckus began and the gifts ceased.

The Sphinx walked in. He sighed and his body had a hunch that hadn't there before. His clothes were also much drabbier. Satisfaction preened in Marla's heart to see him so low.

But, when his eyes met hers, the dark irises were the same. Yet, she knew something had changed for him. What changed? Why was he here?

Shock traveled from her eyes down to her toes, energizing her. She felt like she was back to that first night when everything felt like a dream. This was it. Was this the end?

"You!" She accused, jumping to her feet.

"Please release us." Scott interlocked his hands."Please, please, I beg."

"Goddamn you!" Marla yelled. They unwittingly went for a bit of a good cop, unhinged cop kind of approach.

The Sphinx heaved a heavy sigh. "I thought I would provide an introduction but I might as well just step aside. Come in."

He stepped aside and her parents walked through the door. Her heart stopped.

The last few months had never really felt like reality, and instead like a terrifying nightmare. But, this was her dream.

No, literally, it was.

This was a dream she'd been having ever since her parents' funeral a few years ago. It always started with the door opening and her parents walking in. Marla must be asleep.

"Momma? Dad?"

"I'm sorry we had to lie to you, Marlie." Her mom smiled, her little dipple indenting her cheek.

This was a dream—her parents alive and apologizing to her. Joy leaped through her finger tips and she stretched towards them.

"Oh, Momma!" Marla rushed to hug her parents. They were solid. They were real. "Dad! Oh, good Lord!"

It had to be reality, because, even in her wildest dreams, her parents had always dissolved into nothing before she could ever hug them. Not this time.

She stepped back and ran her hands over her their faces. It was all there. Her mom's little glasses even.

Every thing was how she remembered. Their smiles, their eyes, their voices.

Tears gushed.

At this point, Marla was inclined to believe all death was some illusion God had concocted to keep her in line. It kept proving to be temporal.

"What is this, Dad?" She trailed her nail over a small scar on his lip. She didn't remember this. This was different.

"Little pixie got short with me," he said.

There it was again. This magic. Marla understood now. There was no world with her baby girl, her mom, and her dad without this magic. For that, she would gladly accept a million preposterous things.

It might have been a hour before Marla was okay with not having at least one of her hands entwined with one of her parents. It just felt like if she let go, they would disappear. That she would wake from the dream, and it would be December again, and she'd wake up against her front doorway with the remnants of chicken wings and Tupperware on her lap.