INT. KITCHEN – NIGHT
the Unreliable Narrator sits on my lap, eating spoonful after spoonful of plain yogurt. (his daddy fed him dinner at 6 pm and then expected the child to go to bed on an empty stomach. what were you thinking, daddy? geez. the child’s hands are cold–he can’t go to sleep hungry.)
mama? what lasts forever?
hmmmm. diamonds? diamonds are rocks that last forever.
what else lasts forever?
mommies and how much they love their sons. that lasts forever.
(licking spoon, then softly)
what about tigers? do tigers last forever?
Mama’s face as she flashes back (quick montage):
- Unreliable Narrator in halloween tiger costume
- another day, Unreliable Narrator roaring and pawing at the air
- Mama roaring and pawing the air and pretend-licking her cub
- present moment: Unreliable Narrator in his fleece tiger pajamas on Mama’s lap
Mama kisses the Unreliable Narrator’s sweet, sweet cheek.
do tigers last forever? well, honey, their beauty and their fierceness lasts forever. …but a given tiger? they come and go, honey.
long silence. the Unreliable Narrator turns this over on his tongue.
Mama hugs her boy, grateful to hide her face in his neck.
* * *
did we just talk about death?
and if not, why is my heart breaking a little bit?