On Sunday, the weekly card game came around. Mr. Wok was more excitable than usual due to the addition of Mamet to the group of older men. As per usual, Mrs. Wok supplied egg rolls for the group and Mr. Wok wore his cards on his face. Mr. Wok was a terrible player yet the men gathered week after week for the food, company, and cigars. During the card game, Mamet griped over the musty smell of the back room of the Tavern and the fact that he couldn’t seem to win a game. Occasionally, the men thought they heard something about “a rigged game” under his breath.
After about two hours of playing and $10 won, Everett and the other men decided to call it a night. Once Everett walked outside of the Tavern he spotted the man from the watch repair shop. He had never seen him outside of the shop but now he was with his sons. Oliver seemed tired but also intent on absorbing some of his sons’ energy and liveliness. Everett nodded in his direction remembering how he had repaired his father’s old pocket watch about a month before. Oliver smiled and gave Everett a wave in return.
Oliver’s sons were about the age of Everett’s daughter, Belinda, when he left to move to New York. While Everett moved to New York because of a very high-profile trial, he also left his family. In the end, Everett had the satisfaction of defending three innocent men involved in a mob-related shooting. One of the black and white photos on Everett’s wall was of himself and these three men, well dressed with big bellies, wearing fedoras and smiles on their faces. The success of the not guilty verdict brought him other clients involved in organized crime and with that, lots of money and fame in his field. Everett enjoyed the money and fame but was never fulfilled by what he did. He intended to keep in touch and visit his daughter as frequently as possible but now, as she had become a grown woman with a career of her own, the extent of their relationship lie in the greeting cards they sent each other on the appropriate occasions.
Everett was generally a very happy retiree. He had his hobbies and his memories but the knowledge that he was never close with his own daughter never sat well with him. The sight of Oliver with his own sons, so young, saddened Everett. Walking briskly over to the pharmacy/gift shop, Everett bought a box of plain stationary. The young woman at the counter said with a slight southern accent, “I’m so glad somebody still writes letters. Getting a letter in the mail is just lovely.” Once back in his apartment, Everett carefully wrote the letter and sealed it.
2 comments:
James Gibson was nervous. He had, in his hands, a very stubborn ticket. James's hands began to shake, which made tearing the ticket perfectly on the dotted line all the more difficult. He had folded it twice, once from each side, just like he always did. And he had started from the top, the side where the movie was listed, and had pulled delicatly on the edges with the exact amount of stregth. So why wasn't the ticket tearing?
"Uh...sir?" James jumped at the sound and winced as he heard another sound, one which vibrated through his hears like a shockwave; the sound of a ticket tearing. Squinting through one eye, James looked at the two pieces of ticket in his hand, and relief flooded over him as he saw that they were perfectly torn down the middle. Wordlessly James gave the man his half of the ticket, and let out a long, slow sigh of relief.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to rush you, it's just not eveyday you can find a theater that still shows Citizen Kane, and I don't want to be late for it," the man chuckled good naturedly, putting aside the fact that it had taken this strange theater employee nearly a whole minute to tear his ticket.
"S'ok," mumbled James, as he stared awkwardly at the ground. Looking up, James saw that the man was still looking at him, with a sort of curious expression an his face. Instinctively James reached for his box, which was sitting on the pedestal right next to him, within arm's length, and stared back. The man had a serious face, but James could sense the quiet kindness radiating from him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, just looking at you reminded me of my daughter when she was younger. I haven't talked to her in ages.....I'm a terrible father," the man said with a sad smile.
Father....
The word echoed around James's head, faster and faster, until his thoughts became a senseless blur. He saw pieces of scenes flash before his eyes, playing before him like a grimy projector cast upon a wall. His mother, paramedics, a cold, white hospital room, a sloppily written note, a shadowy figure in the corner, and deep, dark cracks. As quickly as these scenes started, they stopped, and James was jerked back into reality. He quickly reached for his box, and stared at the ground uncomfortably, until the man finally left towards his movie. Relizing he still had the ticket stub in his hand, James abruptly turned to the pedestal, and dropped the stub carefully into the tiny slot. Looking at his watch, James noticed that it was 4 o' clock, and time for him to go home. He grabbed his box and headed towards the exit, making sure to step over the crack right outside the door, and set off for his short, crack-filled walk home.
"One of the black and white photos on Everett’s wall was of himself and these three men, well dressed with big bellies, wearing fedoras and smiles on their faces." For some reason I really like this line. I think its because I can imagine what the three men would look like.
And, Karen has it right... getting letters is the best!
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