AFTERNOON AT THE MAJESTIC ~ Irish Author Kevin J. Mackey debuts AT THE BIJOU

AFTERNOON 

AT THE MAJESTIC

 ~ By Kevin J Mackey, 

debuting AT THE BIJOU!

The quiet of the room was disturbed only by the beep-beep of a heart monitor. The breathing of the woman in the bed barely disturbed the air.

Roy sat on a chair off to her right. In the dim light of the room, he allowed his eyes to darken her white hair to its youthful black, the parchment-thin skin of her face to become smooth with the blush of youth.

He reached out and touched her hand, thin, frail, locked half-closed with age. 

Her eyes opened, looked around for his, and Miriam spoke.

"Still here, Roy?" Her voice was so quiet he had trouble hearing her. 

He leaned in towards her and shrugged.

"I'm going nowhere." 

Miriam smiled for a moment, and then her face twisted in pain. Roy almost stood, but she raised her hand to stop him.

"It's nothing," she said. "Nothing." She looked at him, searching his face. "I did love my husband, Roy. He knew that, didn't he?" 

Roy closed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. He nodded. "He knew, Miriam," he said. "He knew." Roy fell silent.

"But you, Roy," Miriam said, "you never married." 

Roy said nothing, just shook his head. He hadn't married, but his best friend had. He'd married Miriam. 

"Roy? Why? Why didn't you say... Why didn't..." 

Roy looked at her, his face creased with decades-old regret. 

"I was afraid, Miriam," he said after a while. "Young, stupid, and afraid." 

Miriam shook her head. "Never stupid, Roy. Never stupid." She paused a long moment, her breathing shallow, and then said, "I knew how you felt. I felt the same. But I couldn't...you know..." 

Roy nodded his head, patting her hand gently. He looked at her. "If you could, Miriam," he said, "if we could...would you have?" 

Her smile was all the answer he needed. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a movie ticket. He held it up, old, yellowed, as out of date in the modern hospital as any sixty year old movie ticket would be. 

"I don't understand," Miriam said as he pressed the ticket into her hand. 

"Shh," Roy said and he stood. "You don't need to. Come. I'll be waiting." 

 

Roy leaned against the wall near the entrance to the Majestic Theater. The long rays of the afternoon sun were in his eyes and he almost missed seeing Miriam, arm linked with her friend Elaine, coming along the sidewalk towards him. 

He stood, straightening his tie, wishing he'd opted for the open necked shirts he saw other young men wearing as they escorted their dates into the movie theater. 

"Hello Roy," Elaine said as the two reached him. She looked over at Miriam, an eyebrow arched. 

Miriam smiled. "You go in, Elaine. I know Jack is waiting for you." She gently pushed the other girl. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

Elaine nodded, looked critically at Roy, and flashed a grin at Miriam before sauntering into the theater. 

Roy stood a moment, looking at Miriam. Her black hair was swept off her brow above her dark eyes. The line of her nose led him to her lips, cherry red and slightly parted. Her summer dress hid nothing of her neck and he gazed at the pulse beat in her throat. It was fast. 

"Shall we?" they both said as one, and laughed. The ice was broken. 

The attendant took their tickets and they made their way into the cool dark of the theater. Roy had no idea what was playing on the screen. He was only aware of his hand, clasped gently in Miriam's, resting in her lap. Her head lay on his shoulder and the air was filled with the light fragrance of her skin. 

They blinked once they were again outside. It was evening, but not yet late. 

He was tongue-tied, but managed to ask her if she would like a malted. His heart leapt when she said she would. 

Sitting together, sharing one, he was more content than he ever remembered being. 

Miriam looked at him, smiling. "I don't know how you made this possible, Roy." 

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Is this how you would have wanted it?" 

For answer, Miriam placed her hand on his, leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "It's perfect," she said. 

Later they walked, hand-in-hand, to the home she'd grown up in. They stood outside her gate a long while, talking some, smiling a lot, being with one another. 

"I guess I need to be going," Miriam said at last. 

Roy nodded, hesitated for an instant, and then swept her into his arms. The kiss held a lifetime of longing and, after, they continued to hold one another. 

Roy's face flushed with embarrassment as his body reacted. He moved to break the embrace but Miriam laughed and pressed herself against him.

"Roy," she said, "I birthed five babies. I know how these things work." 

Roy laughed gently. "I'm sorry, Miriam. I was always so timid." 

"Shh," she said. "You gave me this day. I will treasure it always." 

Roy nodded and released her. She stepped away, making her way to the door of her home. He watched a little longer and turned away and sat down on the hospital room chair once again. 

"Was it worth it?" a woman, bearing a distinct resemblance to Elaine, asked. 

Roy looked over at Miriam, who lay motionless in her bed, and nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes, it was." 

"Good," said the Elaine-like woman, and took him by the arm. Roy flinched as her fingers burned his flesh, her claws piercing his skin. 

"Come with me," she said. "Payment is due." 

Roy stood and the two of them left the hospital room. 

Later, a nurse, responding to the heart monitor alarm, was surprised to find her patient's visitor slumped in his chair. 

She shook her head sadly. He had visited her every day. They'd seemed to know one another well. Maybe it was fitting they should both die on the same day.
 

(c) 2011 ~ Author Kevin J Mackey
Valentine's Debut ~ AT THE BIJOU

Photo Credits:  

The Majestic Theatre ala Kimburlee

Miriam at the hospital ala Alfinat0r

KEVIN J MACKEY, the ubitquious KjM we see flashin' finesse come Fridays in Fiction'towne? Yep, that's the one true only. This Irish fellow charms with a gentle suave to his soft sensibilities that sneaks up on you until your grinnn has overextended your face and the smile stays inside . . . why sometimes, for hours. He's lyrical, he's a researcher of the right word or sensation to evoke the right moment. Aye, he's blessed by the wee leprechauns even in the San Francisco Bay area for at times this transplanted Irish man's poetry or his Shakespeare grows right up through a deft brushstroke of a short story or a lilting prose, and you know, you just know you wish to linger your drinkin' it in, just a bit longer.
  

Absolutely*Kate:  So Kevin, what's the story with your stories @ KjM - on the web? Rumour has it you really REALLY like to write -- 

Kevin J Mackey:  I'm glad you asked that question Kate, though your blarney has a bit o'the Kathleen to its sheen too. I wanna write, gotta write - writing keeps me awake. That's as much as one can ask.
  

Absolutely*Kate:  Glad we are to stay up late with what you then offer Mr Mackey. You've been sighted trying out different red velvet seats at a proliferation of our AT THE BIJOU shows recently. Sure trust you're going to be a regular and we see you keeping us in a bit of awe regularly up on the stage.

And Kevin just smiled. 

Ah, but the twinkle in his eye. 

Twasbeautiful to behold.

 Keep munching your popcorn,
holding hands and smoochin'

and enjoying theRomance.

CHARLIE + MABEL follows

and . . . come a tomorrow near you,

AT THE BIJOU's stellar authors

have some heartwarmers 
to cuddle up with . . .

WATCH FOR MORE STUNNING

*THEATRICAL PERFORMANCES*

                during the ~

~ FAB*FEB*FILM*FEST ~

grandstanding with ~
  

THE RAT PACK REVUE

  
featuring Robert J Randisi

in spotlights and interview

*AT THE BIJOU*

WHERE WRITERS' RAVES ARE READERS' FAVES

~ Absolutely*Kate

and our swanky staff of renown

CHARLIE + MABEL ~ By Absolutely*Kate . . . #FlashFiction Lovin'

 CHARLIE 

  +  

MABEL

By ~ Absolutely*Kate

~~~~~~~~~~

Act One

~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie was a sailor when his ship came in. He whistled low his favorite tunes. He heaped high his fondest hopes, back and forth, forth and back on the  first dogwatch from 4 to 6 pm when land was sited. It had been a journey to remember, and he was on a journey to discover, a journey towards all the what nexts a man who revered life could reasonably shove into a navy blue duffle bag.

Charlie loved life, people and a real swell gal named Mabel . . . but he didn't know that yet. He didn't know Mabel yet. And Mabel thought she was in love with Tommy. Tommy however, was infatuated with his new Nash Rambler convertible and would be not at all pleased later that evening when Mabel's chocolate shake would dribble down chrome and sheen in an unfortunate A&W car hop delivery scene. As Mabel's sense and sensitivities were on a subconscious quest for a man of gumption who loved life to join up with as a forever loving wife, back home 'round about midnight, she would pick up a pen and cross Tommy and his materialism grumbles clean outtasite off her Mr Wonderful list. 

 

But back to fathoming Charlie. Peering from the edge of the pier into a variegated dusk strata settling the aura of the western horizon, he passed his hand o'er dark waves upon waves of thick black hair, swiveling tall torso to advantage his best vantage back at the US Constant. Charlie's instincts knew when it mattered to hold moment to memory, indelible as Dale Carnegie would someday reinforce the technique in him . . . but not yet. The trusty barnacled ship had been this first mate's fate for a pack of years, the formative ones, the ones that made a lanky boy from a small city a bigger man of his own reckoning. Charlie's inner barometer attuned genuine readings of sensational smiles and the solid gaze knowing eyes bespoke. The insight of his sight saw the best within ordinary folk. Even when they didn't see it, Charlie brought it out of them the more, from purposeful or chance encounters. 

 

Mabel would be a chance encounter, that look-up-eyes-lock sparkanddazzle across a dance floor, but we're not hearing that music play . . . yet. A week or so of back pocket memories, while whistlin' Glenn Miller and hummin' Cole Porter, would transcend both their busy lives until a non-committal stroll on a lazy Sunday afternoon past a secluded portion of Perry Beach would open Charlie's wandering eyes to wonders smack dab before him. We haven't made it there yet either. Besides, Mabel had months to go, dating Roger next, a cultured college catch who had come a'courting. Roger was destined to become a pilot, a rich man and a happy Hawaiian home owner. Some destiny's distances are too far to travel for a close-to-home Midwest gal like Mabel, so, dreamer that she was, she'd still wave off Roger's hankerings with her best embroidered hanky, and they'd slowly part fast friends.

~~~~~~~~~~

    

Charlie turned from his reverie at sea to see how the night might beckon. Wilma Jean, a local siren who had taken an immediate liking to the profile she'd seen touseling, decided to beckon. With a tousel like that, there could be gobs of fun to his tussle too. A femme fatale with Look Ahead flashing signal lights to her peepers was willowy Wilma Jean, if you know what I mean. The night was a bambino and time was on her side. Sorry to say, fresh lines weren't. 

  
"Hey Sailor, new in town?"
 
No missed-opportunity jerk, Charlie turned with a smirk. He caught the condition her tossed grin was in, heard the sultry giggle accompanying her wriggle and formed a contention about her intention. Oooh boy though, did Wilma Jean wriggle. It was shimmy on parade, just standing there. It was a homer in the 9th with bases loaded and DiMaggio taunting. It was how contour tight-skirted a waist and how cleavage graced why gorgeous breasts are elevated.

 

"Is that an opportunity in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"

 

Charlie chuckled. This dame was a looker alright, but some of the other qualities his journey had him yearning for, like substance and grace, talking long into the night or being on the same wavelength that silently spoke cross currents . . . just weren't all on board. But the night was a bambino, and he was hungry. "Saaaay, you know where a guy can get a good spaghetti dinner in this ol' town?"

 

Wilma Jean led Charlie to DellaRosa's. Della herself warned Charlie as she served a magnificent antipasto and the best house straw-basket chianti, about fast girls on speedy nights. "You looka like'a nice'a boy. Why you messin' wit dat one? She's a'trouble I tell you. Find yourself a nice'a girl. Ask her to be your wife. Kiss her close and dance her tight. Care and share ~ la vita bella. You'll be a better kinda happy spending all your days in a bee-yoo-ti-ful life." When Wilma Jean returned from the Ladies room, Signora Rosa slopped a little sauce on the red and white checkered table cloth and Charlie's date swore like a . . . well, like a sailor.

 

There were plenty of sly come-hither stares and sidling up the sizzle on the walk back downtown, but Charlie didn't find a very profound need aroused for what her ancient pitch was proceeding her to leading him to. Back at the pier, his faraway look, across dark night waters lapping against the stalwart Constant, preceeded their farewell. 

Alone in his lumpy bunk, but with a full belly of molto bene spaghetti, Charlie buoyed up his boyish belief in what the probabilities of the next twenty thousand tomorrows would bring a persevering man. Perhaps another port, perhaps more adventurous strolls, why, maybe even a dance hall. Yeah, that's the ticket. Contentedly he sighed, rolled on his side and turned the knobs on the wooden Philco to let the music play into his tomorrows:

 

I'm making believe
that you're in my arms 
though you're so far away.
 

Making believe
I'm talkin' to you; 

Wish you could hear what I say.

There's plenty more to mutter on how Mabel became available, but we wanted to get this written by the time Valentines' Day calendared up to wax eloquent.  Mabel did dance her way into Charlie's heart, and never complained when he stepped on her toes. Their instinct knew they were so in sync that complaining wasn't how it goes. And many a beach knew their stroll, and the sun shined from their backyard upon their share and their care. They were so happy there, and there. Heavens, they were happy everywhere.

Alone on her plush mattress with the memory foam, the soft cotton sheets hung on the clothesline that day and the warm sky blue comforter, Mabel abled up her girlish dreams of what the propensity of the immensity of the last twenty thousand yesterdays had brought to a passionate, pleasured, laughing, loving woman. Always another home-cooked meal, cup of coffee poured, newpaper page turned, child's life shared would endear Charlie more the part of her. The best part, the heart part, that was always the easy part. Always she could feel the kiss to build their dreams on, dancing cheek to cheek, and only having eyes for him too. Yes, that's the winning ticket. Softly, she sighed, rolled on her side and turned the dial on the plastic Panasonic to let the music play over her yesterdays:

 

I'm making believe
that you're in my arms 
though you're so far away.
 

Making believe
I'm talkin' to you;
Wish you could hear what I say.

 
And here in the gloom
of my lonely room
we're dancing like we used to do. 
 

Making believe is just another way of dreaming
so til my dreams come true  

I whisper goodnight, turn out the light,

and kiss my pillow 
making believe it's you.

         
 

~~~~~~~~~~

The auras of their horizons smile,

as auras and love constantly do.

Charlie + Mabel

is indelible as a moment of memory,

constant and alive in sailing its true. 

(c) Valentines' Weekend, 2011 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate
for True Lovers everywhere 

~~~~~~~~~~

Bathing Beauty photo credit ~ UppityRib

Golden Hearts Entwined ~ Mamjodh 

"I'm Making Believe" song warbled well by Ella Fitzgerald and the Ink Spots,

Lyrics by Mack Gordon,  Music by James V. Monaco 

I'm Making Believe Ella Fitzgerald with The Ink Spots Words by Mack Gordon and Music by James V. Monaco

Source: http://lyrics-a-plenty.com/i/im_making_believe.lyrics.php