A sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
A bar. Two women stare off into the distance. The second is wearing a hat, with no hair visible beneath it.
One – Did you see that tree? Isn’t it beautiful?
Two – Yes.
One – It’s so much a part of the landscape… that we end up not seeing it anymore.
Two – Mmm…
One – It’s an oak. It was already here before we were even born.
Two – How do you know? Since we weren’t born…
One – We hung a swing from one of its branches when we were kids. It was already that big. Don’t you remember?
Two – No.
One – I do. I broke my arm falling off that damn swing.
Two – You’ve broken so many things. How do you expect me to remember them all…? Once time, you even broke your ass.
One – My coccyx.
Two – Falling off a chair. Incredible. I wonder which bone you haven’t broken. (A pause) The coccyx… I didn’t even know it existed back then. And even now, I’m not sure how to spell it.
One – All I know is that it scores a lot of points in Scrabble…
Two – When I picture you as a kid, you always have a cast. Even in school photos, you’ve got an arm in a sling, crutches, or a big bandage. I wonder how you even made it to adulthood in one piece.
One – You never broke anything. Like that tree over there…
Two – And yet, I did just as many stupid things as you… I lived dangerously too. I’ve even shucked oysters at Christmas. And I never stabbed myself with the knife…
One – You’ve always had more luck than me. I kind of resented you for that…
Two – Do you really think I’ve been lucky…?
One – Yeah, go ahead, call me clumsy.
Two – Where are you going with your tree?
One – It’s weathered every storm. Not a single broken branch. Just like you. In a hundred years, it’ll still be standing.
Two – Even if it’s standing, it might be hollow inside by now. Look, it doesn’t even have a leaf left on its head. Just like me, actually.
One – That’s normal. It’s autumn…
Two – Ah, yes, that’s true. I didn’t realise summer had passed… From my hospital window, all I could see was the hypermarket parking lot.
One – The leaves will grow back in spring. You’ll see.
A moment passes.
Two – And my hair? Do you think it’ll grow back in spring too?
One – I’d bet my arm on it…
Black.
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A sketch from the collection At the Bar Counter
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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