Infinite But Maybe Not Forever

 

By Christina Oxenberg

 

In the Hamptons one summer, Anna and I lucked upon a spare house. Don’t ask! Sometimes merely by forcing our way through a hedge we found our way to parties. At these parties, invariably, Anna beguiled, while I mostly grazed at the buffet. From one such evening, Anna wrangled herself a suitor.

 

 

One Sunday the suitor came to pick up Anna for brunch.

 

 

We watched from the living room bay window as he parked his maroon car. “Is he driving a taxi?” Anna sounded horrified. We observed him bow over the passenger seat and gather up an armload of white flowers with long dark green stems.

 

 

“What is it?” Anna begged, with urgency.

 

 

“It’s an Infiniti,” I said, peering at the logo on the rear. The suitor exited his maroon car, and strode toward the house. Ignoring the ringing doorbell, Anna said, “What is Infinity? Is it an expensive car?”

 

 

“Try not to be so superficial!” I exploded.

 

 

“What? Should I like him?” asked Anna with genuine consternation.

 

 

I snorted at her and skipped off to welcome the man and his flowers.

 


“I’m here for Anna,” he announced, and for some reason he passed the sagging flora to me.

 

 

With the flowers cradled in my arms I lolled on the front porch and I watched the suitor settle Anna into the passenger seat, carefully tucking all of her in. Anna pressed the button to lower her window and she grinned at me, and we winked at one another.

 

 

I waited to wave off the improbably matched duo.

 

 

Suddenly, my hands and arms were ablaze from pain and I stared down, shocked to see an insect invasion charging over me and I hurled the infested bouquet to the ground.

 

 

As the maroon mobile slowly began to rumble off, I heard Anna say, “Honey, what is an Infinite?”

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