Conversation · Working Class Woman

"Annette's a sweet sprout, but she doesn't know anything about marriage. Why am I even talking about this..."

"So you don't have a bad husband?"

"No, I don't. I have a good husband, the kind and helpful sort. And he's not missing."

He's totally missing.

"Those were her words, not mine. I'm merely asking."

"Can I give you some friendly advice, mister policeman? Don't listen to kids."

"So where could he be?"

"I don't know, at home now? Out drinking with his friends? Working?"

"Where is this going, officer?"

"So what I'm hearing is: you don't really know where your husband is."

"Yes, but..." She looks around and takes a deep breath, a little annoyed. "I don't really need to know where my husband is. Not all the time."

"Wouldn't you like to?"

"No." She looks you straight into the eye. Her right foot is tapping nervously.

"Suit yourself then. I don't really care if your husband is missing."

"Why are we still talking about this? I haven't lost my husband."

She has though. The husband is totally lost. You should tell her that it's okay.

"It's okay."

"What?"

"No, I was talking to myself. I should stop. It's okay."

She tries to concentrate on books, but her eyes are full of bewilderment.

Okay! Maybe it's something else then.

"It's all right to not know where your husband is. Nothing shameful in that."

"Who said anything about shame? Stop talking down to me." She puts her foot down. "My husband is not missing."

But he is... you can feel it. Or maybe it's something else then!

"Hush, baby."

Let go.

It's gotta be something else then. Why else would you be asking her if it wasn't?

Kids are always going missing. Weak, pathetic kids. Always getting themselves killed.

"Maybe you´re right. Maybe he isn't missing indeed."

"Of course he's not. It's not like he's a pocket watch. I wouldn't just lose him."

"I can totally help you find your missing husband."

"Right, got it, thanks."

"Okay, thanks."

"Mhm. You're welcome." She reverts her attention back to the book stand.

"Do you have any money?"

"Money?" She looks up to you, a confused smile crossing her lips. "Does the working class ever have any money?"

She starts coughing. It's definitely a smoker's cough.

"I wasn't thinking much, maybe like a few cents or so?"

"No, sorry," she puts her hands into her coat pockets, as if cold from wind. "I don't have anything to spare."

"So your money is missing?"

"No! No-no-no. I'm not missing my money. End of story." She returns her attention back to the book stand.

"Sad. I'll bum somebody else then."

"You're right, I should find myself a capitalist!"

"Mhmh. Exactly. Go ask for an investment." Her words are clipped, but not unamused. Her eyes turn back to the book stand.

"Hmm-hmm-hmm..." She's still browsing books.

[Leave.]

She's still browsing books.

"I'm a policeman."

"I know you are."

"Everyone can see that. The rectangles." He points to his sleeve.

"Good then."

"Mhm." She reverts her attention to the soggy books on the book stand.

"Do you need the help of a policeman?"

"What with?" She tries hard to focus on the book stand.

What with? A lot of things! For example, people tend to go missing.

This citizen thinks she can do without your assistance? Don't buy it. They all need help.

Help her by... carrying things? Uhm... maybe she needs a weightlifter? Maybe she needs you to fight her husband? No, that's not it...

[Leave.]

[Leave.]

"Hmm-hmm-hmm..." She's still browsing books.