The Perfect Sandwich

         Why am I here? Don’t like “mixers.” Know the neighbors already.

         “Maura? Is it you?”

         “Roger, I didn’t … I didn’t know you’d be here.” Or I would never come, never.

         “Please, I, I don’t want to … I’ve wanted to talk to you. I … I, I’ve changed.”

         “Oh, really, like you ‘changed’ all those other times, until some long, leggy blond, brunette, or redhead walked by?”

         “I failed as a husband, and I know it. Look –”

         “Don’t touch me!”

         “All right, but I want to. I miss you in my arms, in my life. Yes, in my bed.”

         “Are you nuts? You blamed me for you ‘needing’ other women – ”

         “Yes, I was nuts. I finally wised up, Maura. I was so … so wrong. I hurt you, and I can’t blame you for wanting me in hell.”

         “Roger, I can’t believe you. You don’t blame me. Yes, you hurt me, but you hurt someone else more. I might be crazy enough to forgive you, but to hurt my baby – never.”

         “My chest hurts, Maura, because of what I did to you and Misty. I’ve missed so much of her life, her first day of school, her activities, so much. Is, is that her, over there playing by the swings?”

         “Can’t even recognize your own child. Huh, don’t try to play on my sympathies. Won’t work. Not again.”

         “I know. I really do know. I guess I had to hit rock bottom before I realized I, hell, I wouldn’t talk to me either. I’m sorry, Maura.”

         “Mommy, who you talking to? Oh, I know you, from long time ago.”

         “Yes, baby, yes, you do know him from long ago.”

         “You’re, you’re my daddy. My friends have daddies. Can I tell them I have a daddy, too. Can I, Mommy. Can I?”

         “I … I don’t know, Misty. You can’t understand …”

         “Daddy, why don’t you like Mommy and me?”

         “I, uh, I like you, both of you very much. I’ve just, I didn’t know how much I loved you until I threw everything away.”

         “Ohhhh, you love me? Do you really?”

         “Misty, please, let’s go home.”

         “But, Mommy, Daddy loves me. Can he go home with us?”

         “Don’t frown, Maura. I’ll be on my way. Misty, I’m glad to see you. Don’t cry, please, don’t cry.”

         “But … but … I want to have a daddy in my house like Susy does.”

         “Roger, are, are you crying?”

         “Uh, I, I’ll leave. Any way you’ll let me call or …”

         “I think we do need to talk, Roger. I don’t like things like this ‘mixer,’ but I have some potato salad and sandwich material at the house. Why don’t you join us, and we’ll talk later?”

         “Oh, Mommy. I have a daddy, too.”

         “Now, Misty, why don’t you hold Mommy’s hand.”

         “Can I hold your hand, too, Daddy?”

         “Sure, sweetie. Now, this is what Daddy calls a perfect sandwich.”

         We'll see, but sandwiches don't always last.


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