Her Thirties Part 99
Just after four that afternoon, I was sitting in the Packard parked directly across from the cathedral. I wasn’t sure when the Good Friday service would be over, but left myself plenty of time.
As I sat there, I began musing about, of all things, Ina Christiansen, a high school heartthrob. She roped me into attending one of these services. All I could remember was the liturgy being interminable, punctuated with ritualistic chants of, “let us stand…let us kneel.”
At the end of the service, I intoned in a sepulchral whisper to Ina, let us go—she giggled, her father overheard, and well, that was that.
I wondered whatever happened to my old life—my other life—the one without Marilyn, the one that ran parallel to this one. Did that existence matter at all?
It felt like I was going through the motions—living in purgatory, or better yet, some murky Limbo.
What was I doing anyway before Marilyn walked into my lecture, picked up my heart from the shelf where I carelessly tossed it, and blew away the dust?
She was so beautiful—the air around her vibrated with color—and she was striking in her Thirties retro clutch coat and matching calf-length dress.
I glanced over at the cathedral, and noticed she and Ella were standing on the sidewalk looking bemused. She gave a half-wave and a dazzling smile—my stomach lurched. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
I started up the car, re-starting my life.
When we drove off, I left my past behind in a series of black oil drippings on the road. I decided my life had begun with her.
It would be the last time I would look back.
Harry arrived by cab just after six, and Ella, with Marilyn’s help, prepared a lovely supper of Halibut with creamy mashed potatoes and green peas. I vaguely remembered something about Fridays being a day of abstinence from meat for Catholics.
“Used to call it Fish Day when I was young,” Harry smiled wistfully, “all the people lining up at the fish and chip shop for takeout.”
“It’s no longer mandatory to abstain on Fridays, Harry,” Ella corrected him, “but Good Friday is different.”
“Well, we have our own Passover traditions,” he smiled.
After supper, Harry and I sat in the front room while Ella and Marilyn were preparing the dessert.
“Did I ever tell you, you remind me of someone, Scott?”
I looked at Harry and shrugged.
“It was back in the day—in the Thirties—a local neighbourhood boy who used to deliver the paper. I forget his name, but he was just like you—had this way about him.”
I wanted to ask if his name was Joey, but I already knew the answer to that question.
I glanced around the apartment—at Harry sitting with me and Ella and Marilyn in the kitchen—we were more than partners in time—in some deep way we were soul mates and we always seemed to find each other through every era.
I knew why we had this easy camaraderie—things that belong together don’t have to be tied. It was that simple and yet that profound.
So even Harry sees the resemblence! And now Scott has fully given over to being Joey?
It's like he's been swooped up in time. Hmmm interesting, and spooky
Scott has always had intimations about being Joey - Marilyn simply confirmed this - But I agree it is interesting, and spooky
I knew why we had this easy camaraderie—things that belong together don’t have to be tied. It was that simple and yet that profound.
Smiling over the closing lines. I visited Deb's post about your wedding. Can't help but draw a link:):):)
Ah, I've been found out :)
I only read this part and i can already tell it's an interesting story....starting from the beginning is gonna take a lot of time tho.
click on the link below and try going to my website and reading the first 3 parts - they average about 500 words each - see if it's for you :) It's exclusive to steemit and it's free.
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