Lovely Summer Smoke Deluged by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Chapter 7

It was a partially overcast, humid and clammy summer morning.

Unable to sleep, Posie entered his bedroom and Kale was already waiting. Smiling, they walked slowly to each other and embraced.

She gently pulled away.

She said; “Kale, we’ve got to do something this minute.”

He started to slide a hand under her blouse and said; “The morning seduces the initiated.”

She moved away and seriously said; “No, I didn’t mean that.

I believe that we may have attracted the attention of someone deranged. I think the best approach is to take the family car and leave.”

Kale’s nerves were in full display as he quickly rattled off; “Who might that be? I haven’t detected any lunacy.”

“I’m far from certain. It’s more akin to a sixth sense.”

“Don’t freak out, babe. The acid reflections of being known are common.”

“Common! Do you consider me common?”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. You’re mistaking me.

............... But, you must have some tangible idea of what is upsetting you.”

“It’s so vague, I hate to say. Can’t you trust my feelings?”

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Kale felt ashamed. Of course he trusted her feelings, and moreover, he wanted her to be sure of that. He put his arms around Posie’s waist. His attempted kiss was rebuked with a head turn. He said; “I’d like to leave with you.”

She felt silly in creating an issue which might mean nothing. She recalled that she had been seeing people in strange ways recently. She had seen Dad as a petulant little boy and Mom as a nervous little girl with no friends. In an attempt to end what she had started, she blurted out; “I don’t trust Arthur and the theatre people. I’m sure he knows about us and would like an excuse to get our books to sell. That woman with the garish makeup, eyebrows pointing toward the ceiling makes me queasy.”

“Artists can regularly be crazy. Some act the part to convince themselves. But, I don’t think they’re harmful to anyone but themselves.”

“I’ve known him longer than you. Arthur is no artist. He makes no judgments. He flaunts his knowledge of the subject to impress. He’s merely a dealer, who denigrates the objet d’art of the holder and extolls it to a potential buyer. He might have a potential buyer of our books and wants to pocket the gross.”

“Let’s get to that car.”

Posie got behind the wheel and drove them away.

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After a few miles Kale said; “I’m your prisoner. Where are you taking me?”

“I don't know. Somewhere away from Long Valley.”

He put his left hand high up on her right leg and softly massaged.

“That’s my driving foot. Can’t you wait a while?”

They smiled at each other and he put his hand back in his lap.

Silence persisted for a few minutes while she continued to drive.

He said; “Where are you taking me?”

“Some hotel.”

“Umm.”

She drove another quiet quarter hour.

Kale said; “I’ve been very good. I love you, not only your body.”

“You don’t love my body?”

“Are you trying to be difficult?“

“No.”

“I do love your body. You should know that by now. What I’m trying to say is that it wouldn’t matter to me if you weighed 250 pounds and had surgical scars all over. Don’t you understand? I love you, your spirit; the totality of you.”

“You’re so weird. I love you, too.”

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Suddenly the clouds were pierced by sky-crossing lightning.

A downpour soaked the flat terrain. They noticed a store with the moniker; “Theatre, Theatre and Theatre,” alone in the middle of nowhere, just prior to the torrent’s partial eclipse of the windshield. Posie pulled into the paved, well maintained lot, parking far from the store.

She said; “To be safe, I’m going to sit here until it blows over.”

“I don’t want to sit here forever.”

“Be patient baby. Things can quickly change dramatically.”

“What do you mean by quickly?”

“I’ve often seen storms with this ferocity end in five minutes.”

“Well, just in case this one doesn’t, let’s go inside and see what kind of toys they’ve got.”

“Arthur has probably ingratiated himself here. More importantly, we’re about two hundred feet from the door and I really can’t see at all.”

“I can still see some. Either let me drive up to the entrance, or let’s get soaked.”

They looked right at each other and slyly laughed. She screamed; “Let’s get soaked.”

They exited the car, slamming the doors behind them and started running. Kale successfully reached for her hand and

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they blurted out indecipherable happy sounds as they ran. The rain was coming so hard they got totally saturated, though neither cared. They were pleasantly surprised that the water seemed warmer than the day’s air.

The shop sign was of lavender neon hung across the largest front window of the two story, older, white clapboard covered structure. No doubt it was a private residence at one time, the attic enclosed by the sloping, slate roof, a vantage point for many past children and adults. The climbed up the two steps leading to a wooden porch, which contained a few chairs, a bench, some potted plants and a small table hosting a well-used ashtray. Still exhilarated, but dripping wet the two paused for a second. Posie said; “We really shouldn’t go in. We’ll make a mess.”

“I don’t understand.”

She used her free hand to give his head a blow, not as gently as he would have liked.

He said; “Hey, that hurt.”

“I know you like a little pain.”

They both let go of the others hand and faced each other with stern looks on their faces, though in his case it was feigned. He started to laugh first and she joined a few seconds later.

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Kale said; “We’re going to have to make a rule here. How about ‘No unrequested hits?’”

“How about no hits at all?”

“I’m with that, but how about expanding it to one of Grace Slick’s best rules, “Do not put your hands on another person, unless you intend love.”

“I don’t remember that line and I know many of the Airplane’s songs.”

“Oh, it wasn’t from a song. They were on stage, when some fights broke out in the audience. It may have been Altamont.

She just went to the mike and said that.”

“I like it.”

The front door opened and an elegant, tall, graying woman came out. She exhibited a friendly distinguished air when she said; “Don’t stay out here in the cold. Please come in. Are you theatre people?”

Kale showed surprise and emphatically said; “No.”

Posie rolled her eyes and said; “Not professionally.”

Kale swayed from side to side, watching the water run from his pants to the porch floor. He said; “It would be rude to go in. As you can see we’re soaked. We might ruin something precious inside.”

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Lady Stagedors admonished; “There’s nothing in here which wouldn’t be improved with a little water. So don’t argue with me and come in.”

The two followed the gracious woman through the lavender door, into the shop. The door stuck in his mind as a contrast to the white clapboard paint and the ginger of the window trims.

Their attention was immediately drawn to the masks and numbers hanging on the wall.

Lady Stagedors inquired; “Do you like masks?”

Kale said; “Some yes, some no.”

Posie registered a similar outlook.

Lady Stagedors efficiently said; “Interested in owning a few?”

Kale just looked at Posie who said; “Probably.”

Lady Stagedors demurely smiled and said; “I’ll go in the back and let you look around at your leisure. First let me point out one of my favorite items.” She led them to the middle of the store and stopped in front of a dress, which was pink, frilly and laced. “This was once worn by Judy Garland in ‘Meet Me in St. Louis.’”

Posie said; “I’m into performance art and am tiring of dresses.”

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Kale said; “As am I.” He paused a few seconds. “Now, if you have a tight pair of blue jeans worn by Marilyn Monroe, I might have an interest.”

Lady Stagedors said; “Wouldn’t we all.” With that, she turned and went into a back room, joining a man her age playing solitaire. When she was out of sight Posie gave Kale an open handed slap on the shoulder.

Kale smiled, though he used one hand to protect his head;

“Don’t you remember; ‘Don’t put your hands on another person unless you intend love.’”

Posie calmly responded; “I did.” Kale closed one eye and gave her a smiling, but also questioning look. They walked the entirety of the store, focusing on the walls, for a few silent minutes.

Posie asked; “Have you seen at least seven masks you like?”

Kale said; “Sure, easily.”

“Good, me too. Let’s get that woman back out here.”

They walked to the open door leading to the back room and she knocked on it twice, before slowly pushing it open. The presumed proprietor popped up from the chair she occupied behind a light, pecan desk, stained a light brown. The man was nowhere in sight. She said; “Have you two decided?”

Posie responded; “Yes, we have,” and directed the woman to the seven masks she had chosen. Lady Stagedors found the

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appropriate duplicates in plain boxes on shelves, directly below their aerial model. Kale went through the same process.

Posie: “Do the numbers cost much?”

Lady Stagedors: “No, $2 apiece.”

Posie to Kale: “Do you have any favorite numbers?”

Kale: “Yes, but not in the styles, colors or materials I see here.”

Posie: “I don’t have a favorite, but I like them.”

Posie to Lady Stagedors: “Why don’t you pick out thirty different ones for us?”

Lady Stagedors: “Is there any color preference?”

Posie: “No.”

Kale: “No.”

The Lady Stagedors went about her business and tried to accomplish his task. The numbers on the wall were not as easy to line up with their lower counterparts as were the masks, simply because they were smaller, which resulted in one unintentional duplication. She rounded everything up and put the thirty boxes in a brown paper bag and carried it to the cash register, followed by the two.

Lady Stagedors: “That will be $110, please.”

Both reached into their pockets for wallets, intending to use their credit cards.”

Posie to Kale: “Do you have any cash?”

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Kale to Posie: “Sure.”

Posie to Kale: “Let’s pay $55 each.”

Kale to Posie: “Fine.”

They each found the exact amount and handed it to the check-out woman. She thanked them and they walked back outside, taking note of the other items on the shelves that they had missed the first time through, imagining the ones they had never seen at all.

Reaching the outdoors, they were glad to see that the torrential rain had completely stopped and a bright golden sun tinged with red was rewarming the soaking land. Though they didn’t expect it this quickly, at a distance it looked as if new green plants were starting to protrude from the clay soil. They put the bag in the back seat, got to their usual positions and she drove out of the parking lot back to the road. On the ride they didn’t see any houses and their attention, if any, was given to the orchards of apple trees, still in the process of shedding their pink-white blossoms.

In a few minutes they entered a small town and were on a tranquil main street with a variety of retail stores, which served as foundations for the apartments above them. Most buildings were two stories, made with brick of varying ages, exhibiting colors in the spectrum between almost brown and rather bright red.

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They drove through the entirety of the sleepy little place.

At the edge of town Posie sighted a hotel and instinctively pulled into its lot. The plastic, aluminum and painted wood three story structure stood in defiance to the main street. Its mass produced modern appearance was only countered by its seeming lack of innovation.

She parked in front of the office and went in, leaving Kale in the car.

“Good day,” the overeager office attendant chirped. She was an attractive and extremely neat blond woman of about thirty. She wore a uniform dress of orange and brown buttoned to the neck. No books were anywhere in her proximity. Her plastic name tag said Linda Harker.

“Good day,” mimicked Posie.

“It’s sure been a fine day today, hasn’t it?” the blond cheerfully said.

Posie didn’t feel like giving her an evaluation of the day’s prior high and low points, so simply said; “Certainly has.

I hope you’re doing fine yourself.”

“Just great, thank you. You’re in luck today. There’s a special on our two bedroom suites; $60 per night for two bedrooms versus $50 per night for one.”

“We’ll only require one. But we’d like it to be on the top floor.”

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“No problem,” replied Linda, moving a few feet to a computer and putting her hands to the keyboard. “Name please.”

Tedious, customary, chirpy chit-chat prevailed, until Linda made a point of eyeing Kale waiting in the car and snidely said;

“One day, I presumed.”

Posie simply said; “One day,” not bothering to inform Linda that, in some senses, there is really only one day.

Linda turned around to retrieve some keys from a light brown peg board behind her. “Number eight should do nicely for you.”

Posie took the keys, said “Thanks,” and as she turned to leave Linda said; “Have a good time.” Posie turned her head back toward Linda to see her smiling at her knowingly. Posie mock grinned, continuing out the door and to the car. When she got back in the driver’s seat she said to Kale; “We’re in number eight. It’s on the top floor. Can you see it?”

His gaze took a panorama of the facility. In a few seconds he noticed a pattern to the ersatz modern structure and he directed her to the appropriate parking space near an unstained wooden stairway. He got out of the car first and took the package from the back seat. She exited a few seconds after him, noting that they were near the center of the three buildings, their wing built in a straight line, parallel to the road, the second of similar size perpendicular to the first and the third

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again, perpendicular to the second, also of similar size.

Escape, if necessary, was easiest through the fourth unimproved side, which was contiguous to the road and directly in front of their temporary domicile.

Of necessity he led her up the stairs, as the size of the staircase itself, precluded easy movement of side by side passengers. They joined hands at the third floor landing. He leaned his shoulder against the green painted heavy metal door and opened it. She brushed by him and led him down fifty feet of brown carpeted hallway to number eight, seemingly near the center of it. A thought of being left holding the bag crossed his mind, but he dismissed it as silly and perhaps funny. The red stained wooden door numbered eight stood out from the others in its intensity. She inserted the key and turned it to no avail. She checked to see if there was anything on the small chain containing the number eight and indeed, there was.

Posie said; “I wonder if they misapplied which keys belong to which room.” She turned away from the door and took a step back in the direction from which they came and added; “I’m going back to the office and ask Linda to straighten this out.”

Kale gently put his free left hand on her shoulder, stopping her and said; “First, let me try.” He offered the same hand and she put the keychain in it. He inserted one of the three keys and turned it. The door did not immediately open,

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but when he lowered his shoulder to it, adding some force it sprang open. He said; “You must have picked the wrong one.”

She entered and first flipped on the light switch near the door and then closed the blinds covering the picture window which ran the length of the front, excepting the door. In the artificial light the room took on a grey tone though that was not the natural colors there. The walls were painted a light green. The bedspread was embroidered in a rainbow of colors covering an eggshell background. The bed itself occupied the center-back of the room, against the wall and was seat to two plushy pillows embroidered in a similar fashion to the bedspread, a swirling pattern. At one side of the bed was a small functional cream colored table with a snake stemmed, black lamp. The only other furniture in the room was a knockoff early American chest of drawers, painted a cream color with a severe looking chair next to it of poorly executed Art Deco styling, upholstered lightly in red over a medium brown frame. A telephone, notepad and two pens sat on the chest, which was below the unattached mirror, enclosed in a grey metal frame.

The ceiling was painted white in a spiral pattern and contained a screen, presumably a television; however there was no evidence of any device that might operate it.

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Kale closed the door behind him, put the bag down on the burnt sienna, medium-shagged carpet, turned the two latches and secured the chain. He said; “Where should I put our toys?”

Posie pondered a few seconds and then responded; “I’ll take my boxes into the bathroom with me. Put yours on the bed. Open the thirty boxes and spread the numbers, as randomly as possible, all over the floor.”

She quickly walked to the bathroom, opened the white paneled door and turned on the light. It was extremely bland with the sink, tub and bowl a light blue. The tiling on the walls and floor were more complicated with mixed shades of blue and white. The ceiling had the same spiraling white appearance as the main room. She slowly removed her garments, evaluating the exposed flesh in the harsh, unnatural light. She didn’t like what she saw and rotated, taking in views from other angles. She put one leg on the commode and felt somewhat encouraged.

“Giorgione, correct?” she called out, possibly with a degree of trepidation.

Though he liked Giorgione he said; “Goya,” only to be playfully different.

She exited the bathroom carrying her seven boxes, and he responded with a sly look in his eyes and a slightly tilted head. Kale was sitting on the carpet, naked, with his legs in a

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yoga position, though leaning back on his hands for balance. He audibly sighed.

With a warning tone, she said; “I haven’t showered today?”

“That’s quite fine with me. I hope you didn’t shower yesterday either. I took one last night.”

She said; “Fine with me.”

He answered; “I knew we both had good taste.”

Her unsettled nerves re-appeared, having a similar effect on him. She said; “One more thing,” and returned to the bathroom with a box.

She returned wearing a mask, surprising him. The facial disguise looked like an austere 50 year old Oriental woman with pale yellow skin, slits for cruel eyes, bizarre eyebrows, black hair tied up with elastic bands going in all directions, a small nose and a sarcastically smiling mouth, either evocative of a spider or a hawk. He wasn’t sure if the smile was with him or at him. He nervously tried to joke and said; “Shanghai Gesture?”

Posie said; “I’m trying to keep you from focusing on the body I was just looking at.”

“Posie, your body is perfection to me. Take off that stupid mask.”

She took a second approach saying; “Don’t you believe in foreplay?”

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“I thought that’s what we were doing all day.”

“Well, I want more. Go put on a mask.”

Kale got up and went to the bed, where he had left his boxes. While he had his back to her, Posie took a hard look at his naked body and started to evaluate it just as she had done her own. There were quite a few deficiencies, but she decided that she would voice her observations the same time she decided to be a bitchy makeup artist. Kale looked at his seven choices and decided to go with the angelic little boy with a sad countenance. He put it on, picked up the other six, walked over to Posie and took his former position on the floor. She adopted a similar position facing him. After ten seconds they both started laughing.

Posie said; “That was fun. Follow me again.” She removed the Oriental mask and put on one of Marilyn Monroe. Kale happened to have one of Clark Gable and used it to replace the other. However, this time when they faced each other, no one laughed. They tilted their heads in many directions trying to get all perspectives of the other. After a minute of this, he said “As in ‘The Misfits.’” She nodded yes.

Kale continued, “Let me go first this time.” He picked a happy white clown face, with gigantic smiling red lips and a protruding tongue. She responded with a bored, fat, ebony lady, eyes discerning and a wide open mouth. They both immediately

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laughed out loud at this particular pairing, but continued to stare at each other in the masks for a minute.

He put on his Superman mask and she quickly responded with Lois Lane. She raised her eyebrows, but eventually laughed with him.

She put on one of Ayn Rand and he jumped to one he called

“Baron Leopold.” She sternly viewed him. He said; “Please let me lick your feet.” She said; “My feet are too good for you. Beg for them.” He got on his knees and pleaded. He was allowed to slurp her soles until she pushed him away like a dog. He stood up at strict attention. She said; “Get your next.”

He said; “I’m comfortable with Baron Leopold,” and was rewarded with a rude twist and a command to; “Get it now.”

Reluctantly, he donned his Rudolph Valentino disguise and was soon glad to see her in a rubber replica of Nazimova. (Sometimes referred to as Adelaida Nazimova or Alla Nazimova.) He said;

“I’m your slave.” She stood in front of him and he got on his knees and said; “May I please kiss it?” He looked up to her face and she said; “Keep your head down and make love to it.” He went into ecstasy and lost all sense of time, gorging unashamedly on the wooded hills.

Posie pulled his head close and groaned. She sighed and said; “It doesn’t matter who goes first this time. We each have only one left.”

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Kale replied; “That’s what you think.” She didn’t think anything, as she didn’t understand the comment.

They both put on the last of today’s repertoire. She put on a mask that looked like him and he put on a mask that looked like her. Both were startled and he was confused, prompting him to sadly ask; “Is the game now over?”

She said; “Of course not, we still have the numbers.”

“I don't know anything about numbers.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to end this game.”

Posie said; “That’s impossible. Look, I’m going to pick a number and then you pick one, that’s all.”

“All right,” he said questioningly.

She picked up a red seven made of stained wood and held it in front of her smiling anxious face with two hands. He saw that he had many to choose from. His favorite number was always eight, but that might have already been overplayed and choosing it could appear that he was trying to top her. He saw that there was another red seven, this one made of plastic.

“Come on,” she said, “I’m not waiting all day.”

He quickly rejected the available seven as he didn’t want to imitate her and also didn’t like plastic. He then saw that there was another seven identical to the one Posie had chosen.

As he didn’t know anything about numbers, he thought this might

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be a safe choice. He didn’t want to lose this game. On the other hand he thought that he had just intuitively rejected an imitation, so he certainly did not want a duplicate.

Posie said; “Come on. This isn’t difficult.”

Kale thought that he could stare at the numbers for hours and still not have a clue. He didn’t know why, but his eyes seemed to be drawn time after time to a six, made of wood and stained deep purple with a light furry white fringe on the edges. He picked it up and put it in front of his face, holding it in two hands.

Posie’s eyes and mouth opened widely with exhilarated surprise, dropping her number seven to the floor. Seeing this, Kale dropped his six, moved over to her, kissed her on her bare left foot and ...........

Music only they heard played and played and played.

Someone’s body must have touched a button that turned on the overhead television. It was playing black and white footage of the Merry Pranksters. A male voice, with electric guitar and organ accompaniment sang;

You’re alone in the early spring wood.

Won’t you come over to me.

Come, come.

Only you can.

There will never be another you.

Take a chance.

Try, try.

Come, come.

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Don’t measure me.

Lead or follow.

Allow me, allow you.

Come.

Stop time and remember.

We were together.

She, he.

Come again.

Day and night.

Lend me the moment.

Debt quickly satisfied.

Come, come, come.

I know your feelings.

I know your dreams.

I know your mind.

And you’re mine.

Only.

They didn’t get much time to savor the moment, as there were two loud knocks at the door. Posie got up, no doubt hitting the same hidden television button, as the picture and sound disappeared. She walked to the door naked and through the peephole saw that it was Linda. She partially opened it, stuck her head out and whispered; “Hi.”

Linda said; “Excuse me. There was no ‘Do not disturb’ sign up.” They both smiled. “Anyway, I’m telling everyone that the company is offering a free lunch in the office.”

Posie lost it and started to laugh uproariously and said;

“We’ve already eaten.” Linda also laughed a bit, smiled

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genuinely at Posie and put up her right hand to shoulder level, wiggled her fingers “Bye-bye,” and continued on her mission.

Posie shut the door and turned to Kale still naked on the floor, saying “Let’s get dressed and go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, Linda broke the mood.”

He yawned. “I’d really just like to get in bed and hold you a while.”

She walked to the bed, rolled down the covers and climbed under them. He quickly followed behind her putting his right arm around her waist, his right leg over both of hers. This moment was the one he always dreamed of. He wondered if she felt the same way, but didn’t want to ask. She did. They drifted off to sleep for at least an hour. She rose first and said; “Come on let’s get dressed and go.” He groaned indicating a soft “No.” She joked; “Come on. We both need more lunch.”

With that she grabbed one of his feet and pulled him out of bed.

They both dressed.

“Ready?” she said.

“Sort of,” he replied, “We’ve still got to pick up all these masks, numbers and boxes.” He quickly bundled the toys.

She grabbed his arm, pulled him toward the door and said;

“Come on, Valentino.”

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They slowly and quietly drove toward home. They both knew that something would throw another curve ball at them, but for now, they were happy.

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