A bit of short fiction authored by your humble hostess.
Darrington was hunkered over his hard cider and rum, crying
and mumbling a song I could not decipher. He would stay until I pushed him out
into the night to stumble across the way, up that narrow staircase and into his
poor wife's bed.
Outside, the air was easy and fair and not completely still.
So unlike the tavern, with its lingering pipe smoke and the feeling of men with
their needy eyes. There was one table left to scour.
My ears pricked at the sound of a cart. It neared the tavern
and I hoped it would pass. But the rumble of its wheels stopped beneath
shuffling reins and I sighed with disappointment.
To my surprise, it was the voice of Alvy Jameson calling
whoa to her ass. The beast snorted and whinnied and finally settled after a few
snaps of the reins.
"Sorry for the late hour, Rose," she said as she
stepped in. Her tone was conciliatory, considering she was a woman with a handsome
purse and a dead husband. "Have you time for one drink? Will you have one
with me?"
* * *
11 comments:
So good. I love the closing images and especially the closing sentence.
Thanks Erin
Thanks for reading. As for the closing sentence Mrs. C, it's one of my better efforts.
THAT was a beautiful read.
I like how Darrington bookends the opening and closing paragraphs.
You didn't say exactly when or where this story take place, but it seemed to me to be a small village in 19th century Ireland. If I'm right, then it's a tale of lust and longing in a little corner of Victoria's Empire.
It felt earlier to me...but then, I've just referenced Frank Delaney's words take on orality and narrative and history in his intro to IRELAND for my students as we start to consider the poetic voice. That book always takes me waaaaay back to e-a-r-l-y Ireland. BTW, that smirky-faced boy draped across his sleeping conquest in the last pic is in my 1-2 block Eng 11 class. "Cheeky" is the clearest characterization.
You've got it about right, Kirk, although to my discredit, I spent less time worrying about the exact period than trying to get a razor-edge balance between the respective sexual tensions.
I wanted to frame two heterosexual women in a homosexual situation and as the story took shape, it did so in another time and place.
Mrs. C, that piece hangs in the Cleveland Museum of Art. Can't remember the name of it, but I think the description references the young man's prowess (as evidenced by the satisfaction on his lover's face and his own cheekiness). EXTREME CLE LOVE.
And thanks, Bill.
AHA! The painting isCupid and Psyche,1817
Good read...
Nice story, Erin. Thanks for sharing.
Wonderful story! On the last line: it reminded me of the poem 'To Lucasta, Going to the Wars' by Richard Lovelace.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173924
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