When I began writing
this story, I thought that I knew what the end of it would look like.
Writers always do. We all think that we are the captain of our
ships. Mighty creators. Not usually.
Usually we are the
pale, tired, slobs that get to run around behind those characters and
write down what they do.
As it turns out,
Vin had her own story to tell and Earnest who was supposed to have
the equivalent of a walk-on in a film kept popping up. I would say
like a bad penny but Earnest is not a bad penny. He never has been
one so saying that would not only be untrue but be decidedly
unladylike. Mom really emphasized the being a lady thing and the
independence thing and the encouragement of intellectual thought
thing. We didn’t talk about run on sentences enough apparently or
it never sunk in. Take your pick.
At the end of the
day, this was Vin’s story and I was just the pale slob following her.
She is a character that I cannot ever imagine forgetting. I wish her
and Earnest all the best. They deserve it.
--Most Sincerely HR Apostos
For Vin and Earnest
“It sounds like
a warning.”
“It does.”
Hardy responds without looking up from his book.
“When did I
write it?”
“Last week. Your
husband had died, you were having a bad day.”
“I had a
husband?” I ask.
“You did.”
I
study the antique clock that sits on the desk for a moment. “How
old was I?”
“When?”
“When I wrote
this?”
“I’m not the
best judge of a woman’s age.”
I stare at Hardy
until he looks up from his book.
“You are a
handsome woman in your golden years. Cranky at times, but quite
handsome.”
I look around.
“Time isn’t continuous here?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That makes two of
us.”
“You’ll have to
use it in a story some day that way you can figure it out.” He says
with a grin.
“What do I do now
that I’ve seen the warning?” I ask.
“Whatever you
like. It is all in your head, my dear.”
“That isn’t the
most helpful answer.”
“I know.” Hardy
admits and returns to his novel.
“What happens if I
heed my warning?” I ask. “To my body? To my stuff?”
“I should think
that someone will find you. You will be taken where you can be cared
for.” Hardy suggests.
“I’ll be put
away.” I have a strong urge to push myself out of the chair and run
through the door as fast as my legs will carry me. That would be an
immediate response. An emotional one. My warning was so...I sit back
in the chair and think, swiveling back and forth. Back and forth.
After several
minutes Hardy looks up from his book, “Are you staying?” He asks.
“No.”
“Are you going?”
“No.”
He looks at me. I
can tell that he doesn’t quite know how to respond to my ambiguity.
“Annoying, isn’t
it?” I ask.
“It is.” He
admits with a smile.
After I pass several
minutes in my anxiety and on the fringes of borderline panic, he
speaks. “You know Vin, every point of view has at least one, if not
several other angles.”
“Because any one
life can take several different paths.” I continue. “I take it
we’re talking destiny as opposed to free will?”
“It is true,”
Hardy says, “that there are many ways to look at the path that
one’s future can take...and the free will thing.”
“So the Vin that
wrote this may not be the Vin that I become?”
As usual Hardy does
not give me a definitive answer. “It will be a culmination of your
choices that will lead you to your future.”
“There are no
guarantees?”
“Very good.” He
says.
I watch the fire
for a bit. “Hardy...did I leave any others?”
He looks up from
Don Quixote.
“Notes? In this
room?”
“This is your
room. Only you would know my dear.”
I begin searching
the desk for more notes. Another clue. Another bread crumb something
that will help propel me forward, back to Earnest, the gazebo, the
difficult changes that lay before me.
“Nothing?”
Hardy asks after I make disagreeable noises. As well as muttering,
opening, and closing drawers. I check the clocks, a box on the
fireplace mantel, the piled up newspapers from years past. There is
only one place left to look. The bookshelf.
“A daunting
task.” Hardy says from his seat.
I turn and look at
him. “Unless there’s something else that I don’t know I’ve
got nothing but time.” I return to the books and the hunt for a
glimmer of hope among the stacks. “Washington, Wells, Wilde.”
My finger slows at Oscar Wilde. There’s something here...then I
see it. The Importance of Being Ernest. “Does
Earnest have anything to do with this?” I call behind me.
“I cannot divulge the future.”
“Don’t tell me there are inter-dimensional rules or something.”
“No, you made me promise not to.” He says with a chuckle.
“Besides it’s fun watching you look.”
I glare at Hardy.
“I
made a promise.” He says.
I
continue glaring. He returns to his book.
“If
you wanted to know these things you wouldn’t have made me promise.”
“What
about free will?”
“This
is your journey. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Deciding
against checking The Importance of Being Ernest, I
run my fingers along the top of each page feeling for an
irregularity, before I move on. About twenty pages before the back
cover, I feel something. It’s thicker than the rest of the
surface, stiffer too. My hand stops moving and I lift the book from
its place on the shelf. There
it is. An
old note card with a picture
of Earnest Hemingway on it. There’s
a quote that
reads, “Why, darling, I don't live at all when I'm not with you.”
– A Farewell To Arms. I
turn it over. A note is written on the back:
Yes,
a life of chasing
material possessions, living for accomplishments, waiting for things
or people that never come will ruin your life because needing that
next thing to complete your life becomes a way of life. You break
your own heart over and over again. Not
all of reality is bad. -
– Lve Earnest P.S.
I’ll be right back.
I
return to the fireside and the leather chairs with the card in my
hand. “It’s Earnest.” I say handing the note card to Hardy.
“Well what do you know?”
He says with a smile. “How about that.”
“You
knew the whole time.”
“If I gave you the answer
that wouldn’t have been much fun.” He says.
“Why does he keep
disappearing?” I ask.
“You’re never going to
find out hanging around here.”
I smile and head for the
doorway. I see the desk. The parchment sitting on the desk. The
warning note. I stop and look at Hardy. “I’m going to lose him
aren’t I?”
“You
might.”
I try to toss the feeling
away but I can’t seem to take the next step.
“Don’t.” Hardy says.
“Don’t give up a lifetime of good times to avoid a single bad
one. You will never forgive yourself.”
“You’ve seen what happens
if I stay.”
“I’ve been here for a
while my dear. This future that you’re headed for...it’s my
favorite.”
I close my eyes and take a
deep breath. I look at Hardy. “This had better be a good one.”
“It is my dear. It is.”
“Here
goes nothing.” I exit the room and open my eyes to find Earnest
staring at me. His face is pale.
“Vin?”
It takes me a minute to find
my voice, “Yeah.”
“You’re back?”
“I’m
back.”
Earnest
smiles.
Sirens
are going off in the distance. “What’s that sound?” I ask.
“An
ambulance. Your roommate Kelly called a couple of minutes ago. She
freaked out when I told her why you weren’t answering your own
phone.”
“She called an ambulance?”
“I’m surprised she didn’t
call a S.W.A.T. team.”
I look around.
“Tulio should be here any
second to kill me.”
I smile.
“Tulio
wouldn’t harm a fly. He might muss your hair while trying to kick
your ass
but only because Kelly would kick his ass if he didn’t at least
rough you up a little bit.”
“Oh.
That’s good to know.”
“You were gone a long time.”
Earnest says. “What brought you back?”
“You. I found a note in the
room from you.”
“From me?”
I recited the note to him.
“I
began talking to you when I started to get worried. Those
were almost my exact words.”
“It helped. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Voices are coming closer to
the gazebo at an alarming rate. Earnest and I both watch as ambulance
attendants and a stretcher race towards us.
“Shall we let these
gentlemen know that you’re okay?” He asks.
“Yes. Let’s do that.”
“I hope that you have a good
story for them.” Earnest says.
“I don’t know what to tell
them. I’ve been a little bit busy. You’re the mysterious
stranger shouldn’t you be able to come up with something quickly?”
“You’re the writer.”
I look at Earnest.
“Mysterious stranger.”
“Not
a Spaniard.” He
counters.
“Are
you going to use that excuse for everything?”