The Paris Review - Fall 2016

“Little Edgar,” she repeated. “I went to investigate. Your friend Rose is
acting in a movie. It’s made up, like the characters on The Wire. There’s no
hole and the boat isn’t sinking. Rose is having fun. Her grandmother’s in the
film, and Rose gets to wear face paint. But this is your takeaway—it’s just a
put-on. It’s a make-believe disaster.”
“Where are you?” he said.
“I’m disappearing into the Everglades to live among the panthers,”
she said, “but you’re my favorite boy, and one day soon we’ll see each other
again.”
No response.
“Edgar?”
“Little Edgar,” he said.
“Little Edgar, love does not need to linger. Will you say good-bye to
Dick for me?”
“Daddy?” he said. His voice quavered. “Daddy’s here.” She could hear
him put down the receiver. She could hear Dick’s muttering, his footsteps.
“We’ll meet again one day,” she said, though she’d pressed the red button
to disconnect. Tears rose in her eyes.
“You are the lion. You are the leopard. You are my wild, wild love,” Jake
said, running his hands up under her T-shirt.
She leaned back against the headrest for the first kiss. And for the
second.
“mermaid overboard thought he might be a goner,” she sighed.
“Those wild dogs are nothing to laugh at,” he said. He fiddled with her
hair, looked into her dark brown eyes. He kissed her again. “You are the
pirate who’s captured my ship.”
“Is that what was going on? It was being overtaken by pirates?”
“Why do you think the old lady got thrown overboard?”
“Let’s go to the convenience store so I can buy a bottle of Mondavi,”
she said.
“Champagne to toast our love,” he said. “Forever and ever. We’re the last
two panthers of love, creeping through a forest of deceit.”
A cop car pulled in quickly behind them. No flashing light, no warning,
no siren.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” he said, eyes riveted to the rearview
mirror. “You pitched it, didn’t you?”
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