Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Part III

From whence it began. Looks like the gals are starting to get along. Well, I HAVE to do something about that… And the next step

Imogen
An ulcer? How’d you get one of those?

Alessandra
They tend to come from stress.

Imogen
Not everyone’s a layman. I had an aunt who bled to death from an ulcer one night. Her husband thought she was being a drama queen about stomach aches or period cramps or whatever. Just another reason why marriage is a sham.

Alessandra
Wives aren’t that sympathetic, either.

Imogen
You’re not helping marriages out, you know.

Alessandra
I didn’t say I wanted to. I’m just saying that wives are as bad as husbands.

Imogen
What, you’re married?

Alessandra
Was.

Imogen
You WERE married? So, wait, you’re gay and have seen me nude? TOUCHED me nude?

Alessandra
I don’t get off on unconscious women.

Imogen
Not even when they’re Sarah Mitchell?

Alessandra
Not even when they’re her.

Imogen
I thought this town was a desert for people.

Alessandra
It is.

Imogen
And women with sapphic tendencies don’t exactly brag about it in small towns.

Alessandra
“Sapphic tendencies?”

Imogen
Gay women are called lesbians because of the myth of Sappho. Essentially, the world’s greatest dyke. I can say dyke, right?

Alessandra
You get two uses before I get offended, and you used them up.

Imogen
Oh. Well, anyway, you’d think that gay women would’ve wanted to name themselves after a goddess. But noooo. They name themselves after the island where Sappho did her deeds.

Alessandra
There’s and island called Lesbian?

Imogen
Lesbos. The island inhabitants are called Lesbians, and they’re not happy about sharing the name with Sappho’s followers.

Alessandra
That place must be amazing.

Imogen
Not really. But what’re you gonna do? At least places like Salem, Massachusetts and Hell, Michigan accept their plight.

Alessandra
There’s a Hell in America?

Imogen
Fox News had to get something right. So, back to your wife. How’d you meet her? Internet?

Alessandra
Not quite.

Imogen
What do you mean?

Alessandra
I found her online and we sent each other letters.

Imogen
With stamps? Why?

Alessandra
Her village didn’t have the best internet.

Imogen
Village? Where was she from?

Alessandra
Somewhere between Romania and Ukraine.

Imogen
Sounds like mail-order bride country.

Alessandra
Yeah…

Imogen
You had a mail-order bride? What was her name?

Alessandra
Lina.

Imogen
How long did you two… write before you got married?

Alessandra
Almost two years.

Imogen
Why so long? I thought you could snatch them up immediately.

Alessandra
I thought that people only got married once, so I wanted to make sure I got it right.

Imogen
When did you see her? After two years?

Alessandra
I never saw her.

Imogen
Why?

Alessandra
She… She… That bitch had the nerve to die on the plane coming here.

Imogen
I don’t think it was her fault that she died.

Alessandra
It was! She said that she was happy to finally be able to see me and was gonna make me happy until the day I die. Me. Not her. And she died before I even got to touch her.

Imogen
How did it happen? Terrorists?

Alessandra
Apparently, some people’s brains have a hard time adjusting to altitudes or whatever. She’s one of them, and she’s dead. Selfish bitch.

Imogen
None of that was her fault, Alessandra. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want to carry her on forever in your mind with so much hate because of a thing she had no control whatsoever over.

Alessandra
The dead can’t want anything, ok?

Imogen
Is that where your ulcer came from?

Alessandra
Ya think? What was your fight about?

Imogen
I think I should get some rest. Yeah, I should sleep.

Alessandra
Don’t pull that with me. I told you something, now you tell me something.

Imogen
I think we should leave it for now.

Alessandra
Do you want me to hit your leg?

Imogen
What?

Alessandra
Tell me why you got into the fight that made you leave or I’ll hit your fucking leg.

Imogen
I think you need some pot

Alessandra
Tell me or I’ll smash your fucking leg!

Imogen
But… You’re a nurse.

Alessandra
That’s right, I am. Which means I know how to heal, and I know how to hurt. I can break a bone so cleanly that although it’ll be AGONY for you, it’ll settle and set nicely. Unless I don’t want it to. Unless I get the idea to… wiggle it. Once in a while. Maybe every hour. Just enough so that all your body’s hard work to make you better is wasted. Do you wanna know how long I can make a broken leg take to heal?

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One Response to “Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Part III”

  1. […] Wanna Do Something That Matters « Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Part I Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Part III […]

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