Stars to tremble

What makes an argument?

It was a king size bed, two people, and a hundred thousand miles between them. Dorothea looked over at Karl. He had that stupid oblivious look on his face. He thought he was right. He always thought he was right. He could never admit he was wrong. His straight nose pointed out slightly from his face and his wet black hair flopped down just beyond his forward. What Dorothea had once thought looked cute, looked stupid.

There were some half-unspoken words burning down in Dorothea’s chest. So much that she wanted to say, but none of it would make anything better. It was never just one thing. It was always just the snowflake the fell on the top of the mountain, before cascading down into an avalanche.

Karl was looking for his glasses now. Reaching over and patting down the side of the bed. He never found them. He would always give up and ask Dorothea where they were. Not tonight. Karl was too proud to admit defeat. So, he sat there squinting through one eye trying to read his Kindle. If Dorothea wasn’t so annoyed with Karl, it would almost be funny.

Three hours before, Karl and Dorothea were driving home from Ikea having survived the trip without killing each other. By anyone’s standards, that was a win. A quirky song that Dorothea liked came on the radio and she sang along when the chorus came.

“Tiny suns all on the run

Stars to tremble, shivers to shake

Absenting moons start to quiver

Before the bow breaks.”

Karl looked over at Dorothea through a slightly tilted head and out of the corner of his eye. He knew the song and what Dorothea was singing sounded slightly wrong. Karl thought that Dorothea had got some of the lyrics to the song wrong. A thought passed through Karl’s head – Does he need to make a point of this? It was just some silly lyrics. The chorus came again, and Karl joined in.

“Tiny suns all ORANGE

STARTS to tremble, SHIVER AND shake

Absenting MOODS start to quiver

Before the bow breaks.”

Dorothea heard Karl join in and the emphasis he placed on some of the lyrics. Well not the lyrics, Karl was getting some of the song’s lyrics wrong. Dorothea started to question if Karl’s actions were deliberate. Was he taunting me singing the wrong lyrics? She could let it go. Dorothea thought she should let it go. This was nothing. Nothing at all. Let it pass. Dorothea waited until she could bring the car to a stop at the next set of lights and then turned to Karl.

“You know the song is about falling asleep. Stars under the night sky, right?” Dorothea asked. She was careful not to confront Karl head on. She didn’t want to look like the aggressor.

“I just like the tune,” Karl said. His position was that ignorance is bliss. He would argue without actually arguing. Put enough context in your statement to push the argument forward without explicitly pushing it forward.

Dorothea chuckled a little bit.

“Well, that’s good, because you got the lyrics completely wrong,” she said. Dorothea shook her head slightly at herself once the words left her mouth. She could feel herself being pulled into the argument.

“Noooo,” said Karl dragging out the ‘o’ in the word. This was Karl’s genius. Slowly tug away at the irritation pulling the other person ever so close.

“You think its ‘Tiny suns all orange’ that they are singing in the chorus,” Dorothea asked. Find something simple and easy to defend. Find your centre and expand from there.

The lights changed and Dorothea started to drive again, but Karl wasn’t letting this one go easily.

“That’s what they sing. Those are the lyrics.”

“Who in their right mind would ever try and rhyme anything with orange? No one. Look it up. Look up the lyrics on your phone. Look it up and you will see,” Dorothea responded. Dorothea felt like she had him now. The moment Karl looked it up, he would see that he was wrong and there would be a concession coming.

Karl, sensing a defeat, looked for the pivot.

“Are you saying that you are better at English than me? Jesus, Dorothea, that’s low even for you,” Karl said. He knew that if you couldn’t argue the facts, attack the speaker.

Dorothea tried to brush past Karl’s offence, but she felt her position slipping.

“No, I am saying those are the bloody lyrics, look them up and you will see that I am right,” Dorothea snapped. Emotion had entered Dorothea’s voice and she could hear it. This meant Karl could hear it.

Karl gave Dorothea a few more seconds hoping she would fill the silence. People don’t like to leave a hanging silence, so they will often try to move things along.

“And I didn’t mean that I am better at English than you. I am saying that you just got the lyrics of the song wrong,” Dorothea said.

Karl smelt blood and went in for the kill.

“So, you are saying my English is shit, and that you are always right. Very grown-up Dorothea!” Karl said in an even emotionless tone.

Dorothea realised that she was trapped and was annoyed at herself for letting Karl play her like that.

What makes an apology?

Dorothea woke up in her hospital bed with a throbbing right arm. By her hospital bed was a small flower arrangement, no bigger than a dinner plate. There was a mix of white and yellow marigold flowers arranged to say, ‘Get well’. A bit further down the bed was Karl, asleep in a guest chair. It looked uncomfortable. Dorothea felt bad for Karl sleeping so painfully, but she was glad that Karl was here.

The day after getting home from Ikea, Dorothea had fallen over running across the road. A handwritten note had fallen out her purse and she had chased after it across the road with the outstretched arm.

Karl slowly woke up and saw Dorothea staring at him.

“That stupid note,” Karl shook his head, “and the doctor said you have three pins and 35 stitches in your arm because you ran after it.”

Dorothea held up her broken arm as best as she could. She surveyed the damage for Karl’s benefit.

“It was worth it.”

“You like the flowers,” said Karl gesturing towards them with his hand.

Dorothea turned her attention to the flowers. In all honesty, the flowers were a little bit odd, but she would never tell Karl that. Karl got up, walked to the flowers and picked them up.

“You know these are marigolds, right?”

Dorothea nodded her head in affirmation.

“I think you are wrong, though. About the song,” Karl said.

Dorothea started to wonder where Karl was going with this. It must have been showing on her face too.

“Hear me out. You’re wrong about the song. The one with the tiny orange suns. Its not about falling asleep. I looked it up while you were getting your arm put back together. It’s not about stars. It’s about flowers. More specifically its about marigold flowers. You see the singer is Mexican and his wife was Mexican too. I’m not sure if that is that relevant to the story. But, his wife died. Every year at Cinco de mayo he used to make these decorations for his wife. I guess that’s where the Mexican bit comes into the story. Anyway, they use yellow marigolds like these at Cinco de mayo in Mexico. Anyway, his hands would shake when he would make the decorations. So, the golden flowers looked like little suns when he shook them. He thought he could feel his wife’s spirit steady his hands before he accidentally broke the stem of the flower. His wife was called Luna. So, moon … Luna … moon. You get it. So, it’s not about falling asleep. It’s about that impression someone can make in someone’s life. A feeling like you will always be there. No matter how hard it gets.”

Dorothea started to feel like she was going to cry.

“Is that your way of saying you are sorry,” Dorothea asked.

“Yeah. I can be a dick sometimes. I was frustrated from shopping at Ikea and I just wanted to pick a fight. . . and I promise I will try not to do that in the future,” said Karl.

“Thank you for your apology,” said Dorothea, “and I really hate marigolds.”

“I know, but the story doesn’t work with roses,” said Karl.

“I gathered that. I looked up the song too. Just after we got home from Ikea,” said Dorothea.