Chapter Text
When Marvin stood up from the dining room table and walked off from where he and Whizzer had Marvins chess board set and in use, Whizzer felt his eyes couldn't roll further back in his head. He prepared for the antics he was about to be put through, accusing Whizzer of foul play and distracting him. He was ready to remind Marvin that it's just a game and he should try being less distractible.
But when he turns to say just that, Marvin is walking back into the room with a suitcase in his hand. He places it at his feet and fixes Whizzer with a stern glare, crosses his arms.
His eyes can roll further back. “Marvin,” Whizzer exasperates, not in the mood. Marvin says nothing. Continues to stare.
Whizzer swallows. The chess game persists past the board. He did not expect this move.
But had Marvin ever really been predictable? He figures often and not at all.
“Okay. Good idea. I’ll leave and we’ll see how that goes for you.” He gestures towards the suitcase. “Put that back in the closet.” Sure you’ve heard those words plenty, he thinks, but decides to hold back.
He doesn't budge.
Whizzer doesn't know what to do. He can't remember a time in all the months he's known Marvin where he had nothing to say. “Actually, maybe it's a good idea. After 38 years, you can finally learn how to cook for yourself. Does that sound fun?”
Marvin scoffs and looks down. Keep going, Whizzer supposes.
“Could even be a relief, you know. I bet it's so stressful for you, not getting a five course meal presented to you each night. Hey, you could even clip your own coupons. Get your hands dirty.”
“You're ridiculous.”
Finally, Whizzer thinks. He always hated one-sided conversations. He stands up, now face to face with the man before him. “I’m ridiculous? Really? Thats choice. You lost the fucking chess game, Marvin. You'll live. You'll wake up tomorrow, and the sun will still rise. the world will still be turning.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what? I don't know what you want me to say. You wanna start talking in sentences that require more knowledge than a kindergarten student?”
Silence.
“Great. I'll keep going then. This… this mode you’ve been in since leaving Trina, I feel like I'm going insane. You want me here all the time, give me a toothbrush for your bathroom, buy me my own slippers, but get bothered when I'm not exactly following your vision.”
Marvin scoffs again, more vitriolic this time. “I’m sorry a toothbrush and slippers seems like such intense commitment to you. What vision?”
Whizzer frustratedly gestures around the apartment. “THIS! All of this! It's bullshit. I’m sorry, Marv, but typically the outcome of divorcing your wife means you don’t have one anymore. You divorced her, yes, but apparently you still needed a wife. And I’m not that.” Whizzer starts to feel his accent slipping, which he tries to suppress as he's found pretentious New Yorkers tend to equate stupidity with, and he can't find it in himself to care.
“Right. Like your life has been such a nightmare the past eleven months.”
“Ten.”
“I'm not asking much of you. I mean, I don’t love waking up in an empty bed. It doesn’t exactly feel great to be denied a kiss after we spend time together.”
Whizzer laughs, looking at Marvin with an almost pitiful expression. Almost.
“Oh, grow up. It's called sex, Marv. I thought we were doing big boy sentences. You need to take a look inward for five goddamn seconds, for everyone in your life’s sake. I can't do these fucking mind games with you anymore. I’m done.” Whizzer feels his eyes begin to sting.
The distant sound of the laundry machine sings its tune that signals the end of a load.
“Your laundry is done. Fold it when you take it out.”
Whizzer picks up the suitcase and pushes past Marvin, who stands still as if set to stone.
As he packs his belongings, he thinks back to their earlier chess game. He feigned a win, but it still left an unaccomplished, empty feeling.