Me: Happy birthday, Ants.
Anthony: It’s not my birthday.
Me: I knew you’d say that but I am one step ahead of you. It actually IS your birthday, because this is the date you were born; it’s just that you’re not here to celebrate it.
Anthony: I don’t think I would have been up for much of a party anyway. I looked like sh** in that bed, and dribbling from both ends! How could you stand it?
Me: Have you stopped swearing – what’s with the sh**?
Anthony: Time and place, Jules.
Me: Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how this is but isn’t your birthday, so do you want to hear the good news or the good news?
Anthony: Don’t you mean….
Me: C’mon, left hand or right hand?
Anthony: Left – no, right.
Me [under breath]: Well you always got those wrong anyway.
Anthony: I heard that. So, hurry up with the good news. The excitement is killing me.
Me: Okay well the first bit of good news is that you will never be 82 because you haven’t lived that long. Isn’t that wonderful?
Anthony: If you say so, Jules….
Me: And the second bit of news is … oh bloody hell – heck … I know I’ve written it down somewhere.
Anthony [in deep baritone sing-song voice]: Memory begins to fade in the twilight years, awakening all our fearsome fears….
Me: Oh shut up … here it is. Okay, you listening?
Anthony: Voraciously.
Me: The second bit of good news is that – oh, actually this is a bit lame but….
Anthony: Go on.
Me: Well, it’s that I won’t have to watch you suffer and die a long, slow, cruel death.
Anthony: Good point, good point. I actually have some good news for you too, Jules.
Me: Am I going to win lotto?
Anthony: I don’t know.
Me: Well, what’s the point of being dead and omniscient?
Anthony: My good news is this countdown thing they have here. It’s a bit complicated but ….
Me: Let me guess, you go backwards in time, right?
Anthony: Sort of.
Me: What a lot of rubbish!
Anthony: Wow, you sound like me!
Me: Well, you sound like me!
Anthony: It’s probably just that you’re getting our voices mixed up with each other in your head.
Me [Sighing]: Probably. This has evolved into quite a complex creative writing exercise. I mean writing to you, talking to you, makes sense, psychologically, but re-capturing your voice is surreal because it’s as if it really is you speaking.
Anthony: Don’t overthink it Jules – just go with the flow. But I’d rather be referred to as a voice, not a bloody creative writing exercise.
Me: Aha! You swore. Well thank God for that. You sound like you again, birthday boy. I miss you.
Anthony: I know. But you are going to flourish.
Me: See this is what is so disconcerting; I have never heard you use a word like “flourish”!
Anthony: It’s mentioned in Ming’s psychology diploma manual, on page 27. Actually the term “flourish” is repeated repeatedly throughout the course….
Me: Yes, I know, and it’s not a bad concept – much better than just surviving. Oh, I love talking about this kind of stuff with you, Ants.
Anthony: You are so sweet, Jules.
Me: So do I keep on chatting with you like this until the grief subsides or what?
Anthony: Do whatever you want, Jules. Play it by ear.
Me: I am so relieved I didn’t have another meltdown today.
Anthony: Why would you have a meltdown?
Me: Because it’s your birthday, and you’re dead, and I’m grief-stricken, you beautiful idiot!
Anthony: Steady on … that’s right, but we’ve already realised that there are at least three things that are good about me not being there for the occasion. I’ll talk to the countdown people and get back to you but in the meantime you could think of this as my 82nd unbirthday ….
Me: …. for want of a better ….
Anthony: Yes, and Jules?
Me: Yes, Ants?
Anthony: You mentioned lotto earlier ….
Me [excitedly]: YES?
Anthony: Money isn’t everything.
Me: [groaning with chagrin] OMG I can’t believe I’ve ended up married to some sort of weird angel/ghost/imaginary friend hybrid!
Anthony: And one with such exquisite musculature.
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