- Joined
- Aug 3, 2005
- Messages
- 3,379
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- Age
- 56
- Location
- following the breadcrumbs back to AW
Recycling
With deliberation and malice aforethought, Janice tore Jason’s most prized possession into thin strips. She loved feeling the paper give in to her assault on it; the initial resistance followed by compliance. How quickly something so valuable could be reduced to almost nothing.
When she finished with the paper, she put all the pieces into her blender, the one she and Jason got as a wedding gift from Janice’s uncle. Funny, but she already thought of it as her blender. Already sorting in her mind the stuff that was previously “theirs.” Not that long ago, either—was it only a day since Jason’s old girlfriend called?
Funny, Janice thought, how something that someone considered so valuable can be gone in just a flash. Like her marriage, for instance. Or the photograph she’d just torn to bits.
Janice added some water and some Elmer’s glue on top of the ex-photo and turned on the blender. She felt like her mind was whirling at about the same speed. “What’s black and white and read all over?” she said aloud. And giggled. Must be the smell of the glue, she thought, making her feel like she was ten years old again. And then she started to weep, so she caught a few of the tears with her tissue and put that into the blender, too.
Strangely enough, she didn’t feel guilty for what she was doing. After all, he was the one who trashed what was most valuable to her, didn’t he? What was a signed photo of Babe Ruth worth, after all, when it came to someone’s whole life? And he was going to get it back, just not in its original form. Again, she realized, it was what he’d done to her—she would never be the same again, either.
Janice stopped the blender and inspected the contents; she was satisfied that there was nothing recognizable left. She rechecked the stopper in her sink, and dumped all of it, added more water and a bit of food coloring to diminish the gloom of the gray color. This is a celebration, she tried to remind herself, and chose red because it reminded herself of the joke she thought of just a few minutes ago.
Swishing the water with her hands, then dipping a piece of old pantyhose stretched on a metal clothes hanger into the water. It was a bit like panning for gold. Really, it was, Janice thought. This picture was probably worth quite a bit more, per pound. Now it was worth nothing, except to her.
Janice caught as much of the pulp as she could onto the pantyhose, and she carefully placed the whole thing on the top of the refrigerator to dry. Oh, she felt antsy, again like a kid. Like waiting for the first day of school, when you check and recheck your backpack for your pencils and paper and stickers, and you change your mind about what to wear at least a dozen times before the day really arrives. It was going to take a day or two, at least, for her little art project to be ready. But that was okay. Jason was going to be gone for another three days with Amber. Janice had heard their plans when she picked up the phone to order Chinese for supper. Didn’t need to ask Jason what he wanted; she already knew that he would tell her Number 17. And that’s how Janice found out why Jason was really on the road so much.
She knew that Jason was going to deny everything. And then he’d turn it into, “It’s all your fault I did it, Janice.” But had already decided she wasn’t going to talk to him anymore, except through her attorney. Already had one lined up, actually.
Well, he was going to get one last personal communication from Janice—her letter to him written on her special stationery, created just for the occasion. She had already begun to remake herself, just like she did the photograph.
With deliberation and malice aforethought, Janice tore Jason’s most prized possession into thin strips. She loved feeling the paper give in to her assault on it; the initial resistance followed by compliance. How quickly something so valuable could be reduced to almost nothing.
When she finished with the paper, she put all the pieces into her blender, the one she and Jason got as a wedding gift from Janice’s uncle. Funny, but she already thought of it as her blender. Already sorting in her mind the stuff that was previously “theirs.” Not that long ago, either—was it only a day since Jason’s old girlfriend called?
Funny, Janice thought, how something that someone considered so valuable can be gone in just a flash. Like her marriage, for instance. Or the photograph she’d just torn to bits.
Janice added some water and some Elmer’s glue on top of the ex-photo and turned on the blender. She felt like her mind was whirling at about the same speed. “What’s black and white and read all over?” she said aloud. And giggled. Must be the smell of the glue, she thought, making her feel like she was ten years old again. And then she started to weep, so she caught a few of the tears with her tissue and put that into the blender, too.
Strangely enough, she didn’t feel guilty for what she was doing. After all, he was the one who trashed what was most valuable to her, didn’t he? What was a signed photo of Babe Ruth worth, after all, when it came to someone’s whole life? And he was going to get it back, just not in its original form. Again, she realized, it was what he’d done to her—she would never be the same again, either.
Janice stopped the blender and inspected the contents; she was satisfied that there was nothing recognizable left. She rechecked the stopper in her sink, and dumped all of it, added more water and a bit of food coloring to diminish the gloom of the gray color. This is a celebration, she tried to remind herself, and chose red because it reminded herself of the joke she thought of just a few minutes ago.
Swishing the water with her hands, then dipping a piece of old pantyhose stretched on a metal clothes hanger into the water. It was a bit like panning for gold. Really, it was, Janice thought. This picture was probably worth quite a bit more, per pound. Now it was worth nothing, except to her.
Janice caught as much of the pulp as she could onto the pantyhose, and she carefully placed the whole thing on the top of the refrigerator to dry. Oh, she felt antsy, again like a kid. Like waiting for the first day of school, when you check and recheck your backpack for your pencils and paper and stickers, and you change your mind about what to wear at least a dozen times before the day really arrives. It was going to take a day or two, at least, for her little art project to be ready. But that was okay. Jason was going to be gone for another three days with Amber. Janice had heard their plans when she picked up the phone to order Chinese for supper. Didn’t need to ask Jason what he wanted; she already knew that he would tell her Number 17. And that’s how Janice found out why Jason was really on the road so much.
She knew that Jason was going to deny everything. And then he’d turn it into, “It’s all your fault I did it, Janice.” But had already decided she wasn’t going to talk to him anymore, except through her attorney. Already had one lined up, actually.
Well, he was going to get one last personal communication from Janice—her letter to him written on her special stationery, created just for the occasion. She had already begun to remake herself, just like she did the photograph.
)