The highest of these three divisions housed the STAIRCASE
MAIN distinguished by large Traceried (Day One) windows he had said. Which means there’s stone around them.
Scooting further toward the blanket’s edge I tried increasing what small distance lay between us but she reached as if to take my hands in hers but then pulled back to say Just think of it like this.
She said I’m working at my desk.
She said You know what I mean by desk?
While water gathered in my mouth a moving image took possession of my mind a towering purple plume black curling lines on crisp white pages turning over in the wind. We saw him coming down the FIVE STONE STEPS. He had the picnic baskets. She spoke quickly And I’m writing. Softly. You are at your desk. Somewhat accusingly. And you are writing too.
When getting closer he called Hungry anybody?
Desperately she whispered Tell me what you’re writing!
Headed back to the hotel that afternoon I took an unfamiliar side street linking up diagonally to a fashionable tree lined boulevard where I could not help stopping at a chic department store display of mannequins dressed left to right increasing in their level of formality. All three had hairless heads that were identical although with added glamour came more makeup on the faces of the heads.
Confused about the way from there to my hotel I turned
disoriented
dizzy even
tired
I backtracked
tried but couldn’t find it on the pullout map included with the guidebook so I
How could this be happening I asked myself.
At last en route as best as I could calculate I walked recalling eyes cheeks lips all features that for those who passed the window from the left would be remembered as a growingly provocative progression.
That’s not right I told myself.
Not merely anxious I was really nervous. It was getting late. I made it back to the department store
Thank God.
deciding I would go the way I came. Get back to the museum. Then from there it’s travel the familiar course. Back to the drugstore. Market.
Then
However this impression would be challenged rather violently
as I had just discovered
by a story of emerging innocence: a gradual diminishment of lips cheeks eyes to be remembered by those having passed the window from the right.
It’s delicate she said.
He said Yes we will give you some advice on how to handle him. He said He’s smart.
She said He’s not just smart. She said It’s more than that. She looked me in the eye but spoke to him. She’ll know exactly how to handle him she said.
The talk about the giving of advice (DAY THREE or SATURDAY ONE) ideally would have happened in the car when we were riding to the station or when we were stopped outside the station in the car. But this talk happened (MORNING TWO) down near the BOATHOUSE.
That night
NIGHT THREE
START OF WEEKEND ONE
we all went straight upstairs. Its entrance indicated by an antique lyre backed chair my room was saturated. Colored. Patterned. Every surface decorated. Walls red. Carpet red. The bedding an explosion of white roses on the red. No sitting room although there was a fireplace whose grate was painted black. The bathroom walls were papered silver. White towels white carnation soaps white fluffy rug beside the tub all complemented with a little silver chair black cushion silver stars embroidered. In the bedroom underneath a mirror framed in silver leaf there was an ivory painted secretary with an ivory seat. When lights were out the secretary glowed the seat glowed too as if they had been carved out of the moon. Again there were no blinds beneath the gauzy curtains. We were in the country. There was no one sneaking peeks at us out there.
When earlier on that night I stepped out of the car I felt I had exhilaration in my arms my legs as if my soul were suddenly expanding under rays of noonday sun. We all went straight upstairs. I went to sleep. However though my sleep it’s true did pass uninterrupted I awakened. Thus on MORNINGAFTER TWO or SATURDAY MORNING TWO continuing into OVERNIGHT THREE or NIGHT THREE into MORNINGAFTER THREE my day began too early.
I pulled out a red silk robe red slippers. Went into the hallway. All was silent. Dark. Apparently the only one awake I crept around the corner past the little antique bookcase then continuing down the hall until I came up to the door into the NURSERY
DAY. I did not try the door. However when I stopped before that door I suddenly recalled with some confusion that the last time I
I felt a chill beneath my skin.
How are you ever going to stand the pain of it when all of this is gone?
The countless days
The endless nights
I made it back to the hotel that evening only to discover there was nothing left.
Excuse me but is that thing working right I said into the tiny hole in the reception window. It says nothing’s left.
According to the form behind the frosted window there were vacancies on 2. There also were some vacancies on
3
4
5
Apparently a number’s being dark
6
7
did not mean the room was taken. Even 8. The way it worked was if the credit card transaction went through spitting out the key into the tray then you could rest assured except for rarest instances the room had been available.
So he the person I’ll be looking for he is he is your son then I had asked her. At this moment we were on the VERANDAH having recently returned from the CORNER
SOUTHMOST of the estate where a tiny house once stood.
He’s not our son she said.
I took the elevator up to 5 ascending through a building that seemed empty from the bottom to the top.
He’s not?
That morning
after struggling some
Hey sleepyhead. A gentle knocking on my door.
Whose there.
She said You hungry?
I awakened with a sense that while I slept I had received a long transmission during which my inner self had been awake. I understood that this communication met me as vibrations coming from a group of beings who were sometimes small at other times enormous. Irrespective of their sizes I recalled these creatures as
collectively
a dazzling play of light in everchanging forms.
I’ll be right down I answered after which I felt anticipation of a devastating sense of deprivation from which I was sure that once it started I would not be able to recover.
503
Headboard
Arcing row of tulips painted pastel colors.
Curtains white.
The underblind white vinyl.
I pulled down the underblind as soon as I walked in the door.
There were no pictures on the walls just squares of patterned fabric under glass that needed to be cleaned.
The bed was covered in a navy bedspread. Bed was framed in lathe turned posts all painted white
all scratched of course
two nightstands
scratched
a little oval table
scratched
The carpeting
As she explained
the last time they had seen him was at home.
And I remembered telling myself she said that there was something quite significant about what I had witnessed.