She came home with a new screwdriver, one of those where there are many heads, like Phillip’s and Flat. Heads stashed here and there inside the driver. The shank is removable and can be inserted top to bottom or bottom to top which is to say that what was once the top is now the bottom and vice a versa. The only way to distinguish one from the other is by the head that is inserted in the bottom or the top. That is if the heads in each end are different making the bottom different from the top.
“Don’t lose my new screwdriver,” she said.
“I didn’t lose the last one.” I said. “You leave it sitting around.”
“No I keep it in that drawer” she said, “always.”
I was going to say except when you don’t, but thought better of it.
That was yesterday, today she took her new screwdriver out to complete a small job, securing an l-shapped bracket on a table, and when she finished, she came back into the house. I saw her standing next to the drawer where she always keeps the screwdriver. It, the screwdriver, was missing one of its heads and she was rummaging through the drawer looking for it. I didn’t say anything.
Later I told her that I wrote about her screwdriver.
“What did you write?” she said.
“I’ll read it to you later,” I said.
“I won’t like it, will I?” she said.
Her tone was menacing.
I’m sitting in the living room waiting for her, the computer on my lap, my finger hovering over the delete key. Oops!