Mister & Misses Dillon

Mr. Dillon married Mrs. Dillon in the winter of 1983. Mr. and Mrs. Dillon lived in a house that was at the end of a cul-de-sac in the same town that they grew up in. In that town, they lived with the people they went to school with who lived on the same street in houses that looked like the one before and after. Mr. and Mrs. Dillon had two children like everyone else and they went to the same elementary school as their friends’ children who were all the same age. Mr. Dillon was a law man. Mr. Dillon was the only man that lived on his block that had a job that required him to drive more than five miles. Mr. Dillon worked in the city that was thirty miles away. Mr. Dillon worked from nine in the morning and so he left at 8:30am in order to be on time. He worked until five and so he arrived home at 5:30am. It was just in time for Mr. Dillon to eat dinner with his family, read a chapter of a book, and go to bed at exactly 9:00pm.

Mrs. Dillon worked at home like the other women on her block. Mrs. Dillon woke up thirty minutes before her husband and made Mr. Dillon breakfast. During the fall, winter, and spring, she drove the children to a school that was one mile south of their block. Mrs. Dillon would then go back home and clean the house, prepare a small lunch, and make no more than three runs around town to pay bills and drop off mail. Mrs. Dillon would go on a walk before picking up her children. When they came home, Mrs. Dillon would make dinner. Mrs. Dillon went to bed at 9:00pm with her husband without saying a word. Then the day continued as if on a cycle. During the summer, Mrs. Dillon would not need to drive as much. Her children would play outside and would do so until Mr. Dillon arrived at 5:30pm. But the day was still the same.

They were alum of the university that was twenty miles north of the town. They went to school with the same people they went to high school with. When they were older, and their children were also older, their son, Christopher, played football with the children of Mr. and Mrs. Dillon’s friends from high school. Christopher was a descendent of a long line of men who were also named Christopher, dating back to when their town was only a few fields that grew either wheat or corn. Christopher’s ancestor had the same face as his father’s. This was most likely the only thing that made the Dillons unique, the fact that they had lived in the same spot since before the Maine was destroyed. Christopher did not want to be like Mr. and Mrs. Dillon. Christopher wanted to leave and live somewhere else.

Then he met, Dorothy, who held her books while walking to class. Dorothy was beautiful. Christopher was handsome. Their relationship, was one that was looked at as adequate and model. Christopher first held Dorothy’s hand when they were both fourteen. Christopher first kissed Dorothy when he was fifteen. Dorothy first slept next to Christopher when they were both sixteen. They did not make love until they were both seventeen. When they were both eighteen, they moved in together. They shared an apartment that was one half mile east of the University in the city. They went to school together. They studied together, ate together, and went to sleep without words, together.

Christopher and Dorothy graduated, together. They took a trip to Paris with other couples that they had grown up with. They came home, and lived in an apartment that was downtown in the city. Christopher got a job as an assistant to a man who managed a company. Dorothy, was able to babysit for money. Christopher would come home exhausted, Dorothy would sleep with him. Three years passed, and Christopher married Dorothy. Both their parents were in attendance. Christopher and Dorothy honeymooned in Puerto Rico for no more than two weeks. Eight months and two weeks after, they had a child. “What should his name be?” asked Dorothy. Christopher thought for a moment before answering, “Christopher.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s