After Sunset

Him Hey, tell me something. If you died tonight, what would be the last thing you wish  
        you'd said to me,but didn't?

Her: Something I wish I had said, but didn't? So you're saying that I am dead, gone to  
        heaven, or hell or whatever, and I am thinking about what I'd wish I'd said.

Him: Yea, what would you have said to me, right before a dinosaur comes storming out of  
        that bush over that and bites your head off, or before the Rapture begins and Jesus  
        takes all the good people to heaven.

Her: Or maybe you kill me?

Him: Yea, or maybe I'll kill you.

Her: Why would I care? I'd be in heaven.

Him: Or hell

Her: Or hell. They're both not really places where you worry about last words. Or  
        hypothetical last words. Plus I do not think that I would end up in hell. When St
        Peter meets me at the Pearly Gates I'll just blame the dinosaur attack on you. I'd
        say 'Hey, Petey, the dinosaur bit our…

Him Heads.

Her: Bit our heads off, cos this jackass I was hanging out with said he didn't like it's
        haircut.

Him: Then I'd say, "Hey Pete, I know what this looks like, but have you EVER seen a  
        triceratops pull of a green Mohawk? It looked ridiculous. I was doing it a favour."  
        I know Pete would have my back, cos he's a rational guy.

Her: So you're saying that I'd end up in Hell because I'm an irrational, emotional  
        woman?

Him: I'm not saying that you would, but it doesn't matter. Say you went to Heaven.
        And just for fun, imagine that your reward in heaven was to relive this night, this   
        perfect night, forever. And you had all the time in the universe to work up the  
        courage to say what you wanted to. What would it be?

Her: And what if I was in hell?

Him: Then it would be your punishment to repeat this night for ever, et cetera, et
        cetera. But you're mute, unable to speak. You'd have an eternity of thinking about
        what you would have said, without being able to say it.

Her: So either way I'm cursed to an eternity of living in a boyish fantasy where you're
        the centre of my world?

Him: Hey, I don't make the rules; I'm just asking a question.

Her: And that question is?

Him: What would you say to me, if you knew that you were about to die?

Her: I'd say that I need a bit more wine, before I start reciting hypothetical last
        words.

Him: Ok, fine, you can have the last of it.

*He tips the bottle of red wine over her empty glass, shakes it a few times to get every last drop out. She takes a sip.

Her: So, before I do this, why does it have to be something I didn't say? Why couldn't
        it be something I did say?

Him: Well, you choose not to say something because it's hard to say. And what's harder
        to say than a truth, especially an uncomfortable truth. The kind where the words
        get lodged in your throat every time you start to speak, so instead you end up
        making an inane comment about the weather or politics.  Or the nature of heaven and
        hell.

Her: Ah, that kind of truth.

Him: Yea, that kind of truth.

Her: Well…

Him: Well?

*she takes a sip of wine

Her: Maybe I'd say that I wish I'd kissed you that time we we're sitting on that couch,
        watching those (giggle) random people practice their dance moves for prom. They
        were so boring and uncoordinated that I wanted to kiss you just to make them stop
        and watch us. And maybe I would say that I wish you shaved more often, because
        kissing a man with stubble irritates my skin.

Him: Noted on the beard. (laughs)

Her: Maybe I would say that I have never had been happy, till tonight. That I wasn't
        happy when I got married, or when my kid was born. Maybe I'd say that, just to  
        satiate your ego.

Him: And why would you do something like that? I thought I was childish, and
        ego-maniacal. Among my myriad of apparent flaws.

Her: I'd say it because tonight is, was, perfect. And a perfect night earns a recitation
        of uncomfortable truths.

Him: It does?

Her: It does.

Him: So after saying that, just before the dinosaur bites your head off, what would you do?

Her: Simple, I'd kiss you. So the dinosaur would have to bite BOTH our heads off.

Him: You little minx, you'd use your feminine wiles, and those thin, pink lips to lure
        me to my death.

Her: Yes I would, but you'd kiss me anyway.

Him: (laughs)Yes, I would.

*He moves closer to her, he closes his eyes. They kiss.