The Stone Lion
James slouched in a hunting jacket which sported a leather patch on the right shoulder. Nola had dyed her hair orange and purple. They walked in silence across the square which featured only six other people and sat next to a stone lion. James made faces at the statue. He remarked that he knew a lion joke. Nola snickered.
“These two guys ran madly down the road, chased by a lion. The first guy tells the second guy that it is no use their trying to outrun the lion, he would catch them for sure. The second guy replied that he was not running from the lion, he was running to keep just a little ahead of the first guy.”
She laughed a more delicate laugh than her get-up would lead one to expect and lit a cigarette. He fingered the huge paws.
Mummers whirled by, pigeons fluffed and pecked. The sun warmed their noon against the mist. Her sister came to mind again. Six years had passed now. Mother? Would other chances come? Thanksgiving?
James noticed her puddling up and offered his leather shoulder for her to cry on. She buried her head in the pad. James did not know why Nola cried and he felt satisfied to keep it that way. A whimper. She wiped her nose with a rough tan paper napkin. Jenny used to sniff at paper napkins. She thought them low class. Nola did not share her snooty attitude.
Miss Abandoned-at-birth coughed occasionally but otherwise sat in silence. Her hand traveled to her right earlobe and fumbled with the doodad. She thought that she would prefer that he leave now. Mr. Hunting Jacket understood, unbent himself and ambled alone toward the column, looking forward with no expression.
A bell in her mind rang to signal nearing time for her next performance. She pushed herself to the theater and got her props together for the show. Once onstage she relaxed and went rhythmically through her boffo routine, unicycle, slapstick, red nose-ball and all with vacant dexterity. Ten minutes into the performance she noticed Leather-Man sitting in the third row. He bubbled with laughter. Never saw that before. She continued with Indian-clubs and a few magic tricks everyone had seen tens of times on tens of Saturdays, finishing to hollow applause, mostly from children.
She tugged at her remaining energy to slog herself back to the dressing room. As she watched in the mirror her cracked face emerging from cold cream she saw that James stood pensive at the green door looking in. She liked that he had laughed at her performance. He did not say more about the subject. In fact, he said nothing.
The swivel dressing stool creaked when she got up to touch him as he clomped over to her side. He helped her with her coat, put his arm around her and held her tightly as they walked down the long dank corridor all the time her crying on his shoulder. Her performance had shown James an aspect of Nola he had not known. He even had some slight interest in knowing the reasons for her endless tears.
Things would not change tonight or anytime soon. Nola knew it, James knew it too. They bumbled and bumped arm in arm along Regent Street and Waterloo back to the square where they sat shivering close together between the paws of the same stone lion to mark the end of daylight.
James slouched in a hunting jacket which sported a leather patch on the right shoulder. Nola had dyed her hair orange and purple. They walked in silence across the square which featured only six other people and sat next to a stone lion. James made faces at the statue. He remarked that he knew a lion joke. Nola snickered.
“These two guys ran madly down the road, chased by a lion. The first guy tells the second guy that it is no use their trying to outrun the lion, he would catch them for sure. The second guy replied that he was not running from the lion, he was running to keep just a little ahead of the first guy.”
She laughed a more delicate laugh than her get-up would lead one to expect and lit a cigarette. He fingered the huge paws.
Mummers whirled by, pigeons fluffed and pecked. The sun warmed their noon against the mist. Her sister came to mind again. Six years had passed now. Mother? Would other chances come? Thanksgiving?
James noticed her puddling up and offered his leather shoulder for her to cry on. She buried her head in the pad. James did not know why Nola cried and he felt satisfied to keep it that way. A whimper. She wiped her nose with a rough tan paper napkin. Jenny used to sniff at paper napkins. She thought them low class. Nola did not share her snooty attitude.
Miss Abandoned-at-birth coughed occasionally but otherwise sat in silence. Her hand traveled to her right earlobe and fumbled with the doodad. She thought that she would prefer that he leave now. Mr. Hunting Jacket understood, unbent himself and ambled alone toward the column, looking forward with no expression.
A bell in her mind rang to signal nearing time for her next performance. She pushed herself to the theater and got her props together for the show. Once onstage she relaxed and went rhythmically through her boffo routine, unicycle, slapstick, red nose-ball and all with vacant dexterity. Ten minutes into the performance she noticed Leather-Man sitting in the third row. He bubbled with laughter. Never saw that before. She continued with Indian-clubs and a few magic tricks everyone had seen tens of times on tens of Saturdays, finishing to hollow applause, mostly from children.
She tugged at her remaining energy to slog herself back to the dressing room. As she watched in the mirror her cracked face emerging from cold cream she saw that James stood pensive at the green door looking in. She liked that he had laughed at her performance. He did not say more about the subject. In fact, he said nothing.
The swivel dressing stool creaked when she got up to touch him as he clomped over to her side. He helped her with her coat, put his arm around her and held her tightly as they walked down the long dank corridor all the time her crying on his shoulder. Her performance had shown James an aspect of Nola he had not known. He even had some slight interest in knowing the reasons for her endless tears.
Things would not change tonight or anytime soon. Nola knew it, James knew it too. They bumbled and bumped arm in arm along Regent Street and Waterloo back to the square where they sat shivering close together between the paws of the same stone lion to mark the end of daylight.
End.
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