Loose Lips

I certainly wouldn't say I actually enjoyed the curtailment of my liberty, but it was curious and interesting nevertheless. Upon my freedom, I recalled the little chat I'd had with myself, many times, over the many months. I vowed that, more than before, I'd take great care with whom I trusted. Never again would I idly mention what I'd been thinking to just anyone. A bit sad, that restriction, but not so restrictive as incarceration had been. Yes, I'll have to mind what I speak aloud. Though only thoughts, after all, and I never would have expected to be taken to task for them, once out, words can condemn, as I discovered. Why hearsay should be weighted so, I cannot grasp. But, there it is, there I was, and now, I must make adjustments.

I'll have to spend more time looking about 'ere I speak and make a pledge to write only in secret. When fairly on the road, perhaps then I might be freer to say my mind, far enough from my usual treads so as not to be recognized or remembered. Hmm, what about diguises? What if I were to appear as old as possible? Or dress quite dashingly so as to have strangers looking at me approvingly but paying less attention to my words, or even shed sight of me for seeming vain and not tarrying to listen to what I might say?

No, I really should just learn not to speak without knowing who might be having a listen. I'll spend more time thinking silently or reading, and share no more than a smile or the tip of my hat with others who may appear next to me on the bench or trolley seat. But really, what are the chances? What ARE the chances, that a friend of the fellow from whom my niece had received a proposal so very ungraciously should be the very person to whom I'd jokingly comment that the girl should be whipped and then she turns up exactly in that condition such that her suitor is called to court, his friend defends him with my words, and their barrister makes it out as though it was I who'd delivered the chit's bruises? I'd sooner see those two blokes catch a trundle under hoof and--- Did I say that aloud? Blast! I hope they do not meet with such injury, else I'm liable to end up in the gaol again!

Nervous Chatter in a Dark Office

Yes, Mr Parker, thank you for taking my appointment. How fortuitous for us both to run into each other again. I knew you immediately, you are so easily remembered, although I think that might be a detriment in your business. I am not offended that you didn't recall me. I was always afraid to stand out and obviously have met great success in not doing so. If I had your other inclinations, I might even be gifted in your profession for that. But, I haven't.

You may well ask again why I came to you. I know I didn't specify on that first meeting and I'm sorry to have run out as I did. But, I'll answer now.

My experiences went for little or nothing and then life suddenly became more like a great chine story. It was as though the tranquil sanctuary of my childhood had been sacked before my face really, and it separated that earlier time wholly from what followed.

My sister always seemed to dislike our father, perhaps she'd had some clue. In contrast, I was perpetually hanging on his shoulder, until he did a thing for which I shall never forgive him, he left. From that time on, with my mother ill and my sister gone to make her own way, I took on head of household and barely looked up since.

I assure you I am in earnest now so please do arrange our contract and bind us firmly to it. I foolishly put it off and might have lost him, but I heard he's settled in one place now, and I am resolved.

No doubt you'll know soon enough where he sleeps from this information I've written down and then you can deliver him. You know what I mean. There will be a post come in from India, as you previously specified. So you'll surely have within the week what you need to fulfill my obligation, and with that assurance of discretion.

I should go. I've another appointment, though not precisely of this nature. I'm off to Wilson's to make arrangements of another sort, laying my mother to rest from more natural causes. It is because of this that I am set. I think it's time for father to see her again. Overdue, in fact too late. But this will suffice, at least for me.

You know, despite her long suffering which I am sure was his doing, she would not be happy with my decision. That's why I had to wait, you see, until now. And then, perhaps, I can find out where my own life has gone to. In any case, I'll leave you to it. Good day, Mr Parker, good day.

Roof with a View

I look down at the trampers as they pass and note my health may be suffering in comparison. I fear I may be reduced to the necessity of returning to my flat one day and never again have opportunity to watch the world from this windy perch. Oft times these days, when I look back from the stairway door, I seem to leave the roof with a dark cloud lowering on it.

Was a time when I had more zest and would have thought I'd be dragged at the heels of any number of wild horses 'ere I'd acquiesce to this shadow existence. But slowly I confined myself, and no longer venture into the thick of things, only now and then ascending to take a distant view.

Down the stair and through the hall, I pass the sound of a solo violin through 4A. That's Doyle, a virtuoso when he's a good, a mewling cat, when not. I've determined it depends on how much bottle he's consumed, but cannot decide if more's the better or worse.

I am more softened and forgiving now. I'd have complained more aggressively about the thunderous bickering in 3C. Bad enough it echoes into the hall, I note while passing, but they're above my head as well, stomping and thrashing with their vocals. Something really should be done, but they or the landlord would have to see to it. My complaints only served to turn their vehemence on me.

2C... To see... To see what? It was a fortunate day, the move to this place those years ago. I found my new room a great improvement on my old one. But after a while fresh space becomes familiar coziness and then in time the fit is snug again. Ah well, as long as my knees are in condition, there is escape on the roof. After that, there are my books to revisit and a window on the street and the daily news left at my door.

Hmmm... a presentation at the theatre 'round the corner. One of my favorite stories set on stage. Well, perhaps one night, one tramp into the wilds? Yes, I think that may be in order. I'm sure I've a suitable coat in some corner of my closet, and a hat and scarf, if the moths have not made dust of them. Yes, I shall resolve to go to the play. I can watch the world from my steeper angle anytime.

Mother's Son

I'll ne'er forget her on that afternoon, truly the last full sun before she began to fret and show her ills. She gave Lawson such a round about not shading his wife and letting his children range frightfully close to the lake. He protested with much vinegar in his tone, but she knew it was half jest. Bless my heart, he's like her. He finally laughed as she ran her hand through the clustering curls of his hair, though she could barely reach them.

Was any other son ever so querulously doting on his mother? Whether giving a tease or taking one, they did so each enjoy the company of the other. Most times, I felt no more than audience. Even so, I regret it not. Watching was enough, though the time I was given to do so seemed all too short.

Soon on the heels of that precious holiday in the park, the year and her life faded. I did not take it in stride. He knew as well as I what was likely in the time to come, but never did his smile wane before her eyes. In that, he was stronger than his father. Still is. I do love him, more than I care to show. I trust he knows it.

He can be terribly officious to help me, so much so that on occasion I have uncharitably thought, Have you no life of your own to molest? Of course he does. He has a family to tend and they visit appropriately often. But in truth, I am most rejoiced to see him when he comes unfettered. Tis strange his being so familiar with me and offering advice to my inexperience, as if he had a wealth of it in living alone. Yet somehow he knows and is a comfort.

I oft wonder if my beloved Deena is in his ear even now or secretly coached him on how to take charge of me for this stage of my own life without her. Funny that I'd not realized they'd ever taken such notice of me, being separated from them by their special bond.

By this time, he might be given to ruffling his fingers through my curls, had I any. Instead, he comes to check, to chide, to set me for the space between, then leaves after a night with a handshake and a pat on my shoulder. Once in a while, if I do not rise from my worn chair to see him off, he leans to press a brief kiss to my balding pate. I wave him off of course and nearly curse him for the foolish maneuver. In response, I get a cocky farewell and a smirking grin, satisfied he'd put one over. I grant him a reluctant chuckle, and save my heartfelt smile for when he's down the road. I trust he knows it.

Box Seat

I had Box Seat written against the entry and had given the bookkeeper a hand with it. She was not just the accounting secretary I had expected, but the keeper of books ready for press. Announcing "Done", I tucked the manuscript upon the high shelf that she specified but could not reach. After which she gently chided Carmichael, my actual patron, for not being more demonstrative. I grasped him by both hands and could not let them go. Well, at least until the keeper held up to him the payment to give to me. Carmichael seemed grateful that the purse cancelled my demonstration.

Shortly thereafter, even with most of my debts paid, I had coin remaining for celebration. So, I went forth to do just that. Landing at a dance hall and drinking establishment in the only quarter open at this hour, I found a perch. Unmindful of shame and rumbling out of the curiosity underneath, the drink made me wrap up both a darkling maid and a white-clad mannequin in a terpsichorean whirl. Sooner more than later, the darkling faded into some shadow and I was left with the made-up doll and her light steps. We had a word or two about the one who'd departed, then danced closer in slow silence for a time.

Now suddenly lifting up her eyes to mine and speaking in a different manner, she said she was sorry and reliant upon me to be so too. I couldn't imagine what either of us had done to warrant it. I stopped dancing however. It was her look, appealing with her eyes in such a way that nothing she could have said would have had more effect.

Shortly I felt the presence of someone behind me and so I turned. Mr Vasquez made his introduction after checking himself and pausing a long time. He then watched me out of the corner of his eye while addressing the girl. "There'll be a blunt world. I had emerged by another door and stood in the street for a little while. I held many a grave gaze and did not abandon the calling to which I should be devoted."

Vasquez made as though to shake my hand but pressed half a crown into my palm. Still his eyes and his words were on the woman. "I was got up in a special great coat and shawl expressly to do honour to that which you had promised."

I held up the given coin and turned it with curiosity, not knowing what was the import of it.

The terse gent spoke again, now to me, "Suppose you were to go down into the old part of the country, for instance."

Ah, so that was it, being bought that these two could complete some as yet undisclosed transaction? I could have had worse. He'd not suggested a long walk off a short pier, nor bodily pitched me through the front glass. He'd simply paid me off.

The painted mannequin in white tried to turn and leave, but a gloved hand shot out to catch her arm, "Not you." Vasquez planned to be persistent and since he was larger than me by many nights of beef and mutton, I stepped back. I went to fetch my hat, lifting it from the hook by the narrow flat brim, while I tucked the new coin into my close-fitting drab trousers.

Neither maid nor man gave a muddy look at me again. She that had appeared so beautiful as to be deserving of my gratitude for a dance, was now being escorted from the hall. I did chance to hear a bit of explanation as he gathered her and they passed.

The quieter voice was deep and strong enough to be heard beneath the music, "You've had your run and I, not so merry, chased. Past time to earn your dowry which I already paid and your groom may have spent thinking he'd have to forget you. But I'll not have it. You'll make the bond for which I gave my word."

As the thick gloved fingers puckered the sleeve of the mannequin's white dress, I heard her whisper sarcastic resignation, "Of all things in the world, father, I should like it best."

Time for me to go home. I'd already tendered my box seat, twice.

Byron's Sister's Options

"HE handled the reins." James Moody shot me a disgruntled look as he pitched an accusatory thumb toward the other fellow standing before me.

I construed his remark into an indication. "That he should, perhaps," I said correctly, though I took discomfort in what he intimated. The 'reins' to which he referred meant my sister. "They are to wed."

"That I hoped," said the other indignantly. "I should be what she described in that letter, though perhaps the most unnatural to the claims of your own family." The other was Berkowitz, but I called him down as Berks.

From behind me, my sister Frieda leaned forward to whisper in my ear, "Bryon, dear brother, it's Berkowitz."

"Go to my room," I commanded to her sharply, for I had not yet relinquished it. "Or at least out of these doors. It may be useful in helping you to know your own mind and form a cooler judgement."

I shook my head while waiting for her to comply. We never should have heard of the letter at all, I believe, unless I had asked for it myself. With a squint I watched her finally go, she who had no other merit than smelling like a rebellion and being able to stir these boys. I thought of mother, yes, some credit to the coach on that.

"And here in the very first stage I was supplanted by a shabby man out of doors." James, my friend, put forward his own cause again.

Frieda leaned over the stair rail above the study doorway and asked "Tell me again why I look up here?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned out to yell up, "I said, it may be useful in helping you to know your own mind and form a cooler judgement!" But my security in this notion dwindled.

As both fellows looked towards me, I felt to be torn. There was such deep fondness for her, from James at least. Extending a hand for the lease form, Berkowitz glowered at Moody then looked to me, "Where is it?"

"Oh, I am sorry to inform you that they were taking leave of each other." With that, I held up the lease pages and ripped them to match my condition, and soon his. Berks would have thought I'd meant my friend and sister were parting.

"But I was going to embrace her and kiss her some particulars," he protested, "while concerning other deserving members of her family whom it was desirable to set, or so I'm told."

"The dumplings are uncommonly fine down there," James quipped of more than I wanted to hear or think. She's my sister!

"Fomalhaut, mouth of the fish," Berkowitz slimed, and with that, the whole concept was pigeonholed resignedly. Obvious now that his interest was in the property and not that which any called Frieda.

"You. Out." I was nigh on following with a kick, and said as much.

"Of course," Berks gave up altogether when he went out, but grinned on the way, "Pleasantly, I hope." He paused at the door and gestured to James with a shrug and tip of his noggin, "He's like her Mullins."

I blinked. I'd lost the thread now. Seeing my confusion, Berks clarified, "She likes him."

"Oh," was all I could say to that. Would have been easier if it had been said from the start. I shot a glare to that effect up toward the stairs and my dizzy sibling draped smilingly over the cursed rail.

Gussie's Vacation Revisited

With resolution and determination, my aunt added, "And do it at once." She was shaking her cap in her clenched hand. The waiter immediately withdrew to make the exchange. I turned my head so as not to laugh, then came directly back, straight-faced again. It was on his return that I took a good look at the waiter. He did not know me, but I knew him in a moment---

My cabana... It was Tanner... Sparkling sunshine on the water and everything was done in the kindest and best way we know. That Jefferson monster brought my jacket on cool evenings, but more fondly I recall Tanner in the days and I thought he would have remembered too. I stretched my neck eagerly to look for recognition, but it was gone astray.

My aunt did not notice. She commented on the new choice of desserts, and how they seemed bland, chocolate and vanilla, black and white.

"Well, ma'am," said the slavonic cheerfully, "I am not bigoted to my plans that I thought it best to make no advances. The main object on my mind-" He was surely to explain further, but suddenly stopped and addressed me, "I remember you very well, gosling, for paying gratitude for care, and your beautiful look, and those were such fervent days in London."

London? I thought. LONDON? There's no beach in London. If I liked it either on my way down into Suffolk or in coming back, well... No boy, in a word it was good acropolis and thus Greece. I recall well, for Norbert was very glad to see me and told me that the house had not been like itself since being in a beastly condition, and our house tedious enough I remained there that night instead of going on.

I huffed at Tanner, he was extinguished and dreadfully young. It was curious and interesting nevertheless to walk across me more like a fly than a human being, while the horses were at a canter. I decided not to launch an oratory aerodynamic and vitrious as sulfonamide. I perused Tanner's tray of delights and chose from the back of a centre box.

My response to him was simply, "Beg pardon, you must be mistaken."

He leaned in my ear and said, "You don't remember me, I am afraid. My God..." he suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't it little Jensen?"

I glared. It was his memory that failed or his intent to bemuse. "If you dont mind, Augustina would be more correct." Which is of course how he came to 'gosling' and I knew it.

With a fast beating heart I waved him off. He backed away with a sorrowful look that seemed to say, "Won't you speak to me?" My return obviously denied it.

When he'd left our table finally, my aunt crumbled her own commentary, "That ain't a sort of man to see sitting behind a coach box, is it?"

She was right. Neither coach box nor cabana, not in London, nor in Greece. Not ever again.