A Memorable Evening
By
Will Mayo
The restaurant with all its contemporary touches is just right for the two of them. Topiary shines off in the evening lamplight, the chairs are comfortable, and the tables are well proportioned for a couple out on the town. Helping her off with her overcoat without laying a hand on her still ample figure he begins in earnest.
“Now about Sharon, I think there remains something to be said. He reminds me of Begin of a quarter century ago. Why, back in my day,” he says in his best oration since high school as he tucks his napkin into the collar of his shirt like a bib. And so for the next hour (surely it must be more!) he gives his summation of the Middle East conflict with all its ramifications of the world we live in as she looks on across the table with her mouth in a gigantic O. Strange that it is she never swallows the fly that flits lazily about the dishes as if it like them has no better place to be.
Finally, his meal grown cold in front of him from disuse, he places one carefully manicured hand atop of the other on the gaudy tablecloth and says, “That at least is my feeling on the situation at hand.”
Unable to suppress a yawn (and trying vainly to stay awake), she mutters, “Why, yes, of course.” That this evening has been unlike any she has ever dreamed of goes without saying.
As he helps her don once more that great and overbearing coat (again without ever actually managing to lay a hand on her), he makes the chance remark that perhaps next week they should discuss the Cold War and the birth of modern day terrorism? “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of missing that,” she says with no trace of sarcasm whatsoever.
“Well then, we’re off.”
Around them in the warm shade of evening, people mill about in couples and trios and quintets, never quite noticing the couple before them entering the cab as a steady summer rainstorm begins, the man, the woman not yet together and not yet apart. Just warring parties upon the plain. And then they too are gone without ever making a meaningful impression upon anyone at all save in their own still distant hearts.
That Time I Hesitated To Know Why
by
Will Mayo
And once long ago, I spied a lovely young miss who was talking on the pay phone while wearing nary a thing.
"Miss," I said. "Do you realize you're wearing nothing at all?"
"Yeah," she said. "What's it to you?" And went back to talking on the telephone.
I walked away mindfully. Man's got to know when to mind his own business. So it's said anyway.
Come To Terms
by
Will Mayo
His life was constructed out of castles made of sand. Here, a fairy princess, there a kingdom to be won for another day and then anon. Always some journey to be taken, a road to travel along some lonely highway. He, the knight in shining armor dressed in some rugged suit of rags. Looking for meaning to his soul, but never minding the hard, cold death and decay of this world.
Till at last he found himself naked and soiled in a room of his own making. Crying out for help, he uttered what for him was the worst a man could say. And his aid to comfort came to him like a master long gone from the beasts of the field. In obedience, he bowed his head and said nothing evermore. The tales had all been told and he went home with riddles tattooed into his flesh, tearing castles from the sea.
To Read Another
by
Will Mayo
I was in a bit of a fuss with my father.
"All those books in the library and in your room that you haven't read," he said, "and yet you want one more."
"Ah, but I must have 'The Loves Of Theodora Notwithstanding,'" I said.
He glared at me with one hot look and then gave me five dollars, the price of a book and then some in the Seventies.
"Hey, get out of here, will you?" he said.
"You'll never know how much I appreciate this."
"You got that right. Now, go."
I went and I read and read. Those days were the best of all.
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