Fellini's Aquarium

Fellini’s Aquarium
         Lydia sat in her favorite chair in her white living room, sipping Shiraz and staring out the window at the reflection of the sun off the lake.  The day was too overcast and too still to do anything but sit around and drink wine all day.  She was downstairs and Roger was upstairs.
         Roger sat in the recliner in his study watching La Strada for the fiftieth time.  He wasn’t so much watching as he was playing the movie on for background noise while he sat and thought.  He thought of the past, he thought of the first time he and Lydia kissed, the first time they had sex, the first time they were able to get away together and just be alone.  He was tired and wanted to sleep, even though it was only one in the afternoon.
         
         Lydia stared at the TV while flipping through the channels, hoping to find a rerun of “I Love Lucy” or “The Honeymooners” but could only find an old episode of “Cheers” instead, so she turned the TV off.
         “Thanks, that episode wasn’t that great anyway,” said a voice from behind Lydia.  She turned around to see a short, fat, forty something standing next to the front door.  The voice belonged to Norm from “Cheers.”
         “No problem,” Lydia said. “I was never that big of a fan of the show anyway.”
         “Yeah, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Hey, you have any beer?”
         “No, sorry.  I have some wine though. Would you like that?”
         “Sure, gets the job done just as well.” 
         Lydia smiled a small smile and walked off to the kitchen to pour some more wine.
         Roger had dozed off while watching his movie and woke up to see the main character Zampano, played by Anthony Quinn, lying the beach crying.  The scene always moved Roger to tears and this time was no exception, although the tears didn’t come as easily as they usually did.
         “Gelsomina was the only woman who ever cared for me,” said Zampano, who was sitting behind Roger’s work desk.
         “And yet you let her get away,” Roger said.
         “Don’t remind me. I should have treated her better.”
         “Yes, you should have.”

         Lydia and Norm drank their wine and talked about nothing in particular: mortgage payments, sexual inadequacy, children who forgot to call them on their birthdays….
         “Yeah, my daughter only calls me when she needs money,” Lydia said.
         “Yeah, tell me about it. I only hear from my son when he wants to sell me some time share in Colorado,” said Norm.
         “At least he has a job. My daughter will work for a few months and then get fired because she refuses to ever go into work.”
         “Yeah, but at least I get to see the grandkids once a year,” said Norm.
         “My grandkids are in another state. I don’t get to see them except for once in awhile,” said Lydia.
         “Well, mine are out of state too. I just make sure that me and the missus schedule some time to go to Michigan to see them.”
         “I’ve done that before but every time I get ready to leave my daughter- in- law comes up with some excuse for me not to come, and of course my son always takes her side.”
         “Ah, I hear ya.”
         “I just want my grandkids to get to know me before I take the big plunge.”
         “What about your husband?”
         Lydia looked away from Norm and stared out at the lake.  The sun had begun to shine a little and the reflection off the water bounced off the white walls, giving the impression of a wave doing a small ballet for her and Norm.
         “They should get to know him too.”
         “You don’t seem to talk about him much.”
         “What is there to say? He’s my husband and I love him.”
         Norm looked out at the water with Lydia.
         “You know, I used to go fishing on a lake just like that when I was a kid” Norm said.

         Roger and Zampano sat across from each other at Roger’s desk, Zampano still behind the desk and Roger in front.  They played a game of Rummy and reminisced about their collective experiences in the ways of life and women.
         “I once dated a girl,” Roger said, “who swore up and down that she could tie a cherry steam in a knot with her tongue, and so one time after a night of heavy drinking and barhopping  we get back to my house and pour ourselves two glasses of wine. I had some maraschino cherries in the fridge, so I brought them back to the bedroom with us and asked her to do her little trick. She just laughed and said ‘I’m too tired to do anything like that tonight, baby.’ Now I’ve never been a proponent of hitting women, but I lost my cool and slapped her across the face. ‘You’re up for fucking me but don’t want to entertain me! What the hell’s your problem?’ After that she slapped me back, got off the bed, put her clothes back on and walked out the door.” Roger glanced up at Zampano while he shuffled the deck of cards.
         “And you had every right to do so,” Zampano said. “The bitch shouldn’t have told you such a sexy story and not expect you to want some follow through.” Zampano played with a stuffed monkey that was lying on Roger’s desk.  The circus brute looked at it and wondered why an adult man would have such an absurd object sitting on his work desk.
         “My daughter gave me that when she got back from summer camp when she was eleven,” Roger said as he started tossing the cards out between him and Zampano.
         “Why would you hold on to this for so long?”
         “I just have a special place in my heart for old childhood relics.”
         “Why is that?”
         “Because they remind me of the innocence that we all once had, how for a fraction of time my little girl thought that monkey was the most important thing in the world.”
         “Shouldn’t you have been the most important person to her in her life?”
         “Should have been and am are two very different things.” Roger put down his cards and looked out the window at the lake.  The wind was blowing a slow breeze across the reeds, causing them to sway back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm that entranced Roger for a short time.
         “Well at least you have some offspring and a wife who loves you.”
         Roger turned from the window and stared up at Zampano.  He opened his mouth to say something but then just stared back down at his cards. “Why did you let Gelsomina go?”
         “It wasn’t my fault. She didn’t have the heart to stay with me after I murdered the fool. I was just doing what my body was telling me to do at that time.”
         “But you scared her away, and you just told me a second ago that you regret letting her go. Now you are saying that it wasn’t your fault.”
          Zampano stood up and threw his chair across the room.  He’d always had a bad temper (he was a circus strongman after all) and it usually got the best of him.
         “Just because I miss her doesn’t mean it was my fault that she left. At least I don’t have to deal with a wife who I can’t connect with anymore.”
         Roger got up from his chair and walked over to the bar and poured himself a scotch and water.  He looked up at Zampano and offered him a drink.

         Norm and Lydia sat in the living room and watched the water as it glistened in the partial sun poking out from behind a cloud.  They were thinking about the old days, the days before the kids, the houses, the lovers’ quarrels, and all the other stressful things that hindered their lives.
         “You know, me and Roger have been married for 42 years and the most we can say about all of it is that at least we weren’t unfaithful to each other.” Lydia poured her fourth glass of wine.
         “That’s still something to be proud of. The missus cheated on me at least twice before I found out about the infidelities,” Norm said.
         “Why is it so hard? I mean, we never wanted to be this out of synch with each other.”
         “Nobody ever does. It just gradually happens.”
         “Isn’t that a bit cliché coming from a man who worked for some of the best writers on television?”
         “Remember, I’m not here, I’m just a representation of your own fears and insecurities. And I have to say, having a fat forty something barfly as your symbolic therapist speaks volumes about how you perceive your problems.”
         Lydia stared at the wall and thought about how one of pop culture’s biggest icons had stood right in front of her listening to her problems.  She chugged the remainder of the wine and poured herself another glass.

         Roger sat in his recliner and Zampano stood beside him, both men drinking scotch and both men at odds with each other.
         “You didn’t have to kill the fool you know,” Roger said to Zampano.
         “You didn’t have to come up here and watch movies all day,” Zampano said to Roger.  Roger drank the last bit of his scotch and then put the glass down on the table to the right of his chair.  He sighed and then stood up, walked over to the DVD player, and ejected the movie.  He put the disc back in its case and placed it on the shelf with all the other DVDs.

         Roger descended the stairs and headed to the living room where Lydia watched television.  Apparently a marathon of “The Golden Girls” was on.  Roger stood in the doorway of the living room for what seemed like an eternity.  Lydia noticed him, but did not acknowledge that he was there.  Roger’s eyes darted all around the room, noticing things like the water stain on the rug that came from the leak in the ceiling and the cracked glass in the window next to the front door.  Lydia tried to stay interested in what was on TV.  Roger’s eyes darted for a few more seconds, then settled on Lydia.  A commercial came on and Lydia looked up into Roger’s eyes for the first time in long while.
         “Hi,” said Roger.
         “Hello,” said Lydia.