VII

   She hurried out of the building where the lawyer lived and she could feel how he was looking after her from the window. "He's too much...And too poor", she thought as she hurried her steps on the pavement. She had lied to him like she did so many other times. It wasn't that she could not stand him, but she was afraid of him, of what his feelings might make him do. And that she might also fall into such feelings. "No, not again. Never again. At least not for a man", she continued her thinking and laughed at her last one. She reached the pharmacy, went in for only a few minutes and came out with a small bag. With her eyes on the clock she took a cab, as her next customer was to the other side of the town, on Greenfield 44.

   - You seem familiar, mentioned the cab driver. Have I seen you before?

   - You're a cab driver. What do you think?

   And the driver laughed.

   - You are right, I see a lot of faces. But I don't remember all. There has to be someone special about one to be remembered.

   - Thank you, indeed I am special.

   - Specially beautiful, added he and remained silent until they reached the destination, where she paid with the lawyer's money and hurried into that house on Greenfield 44, without knocking or ringing or anything. 

   - Good afternoon, she said to an old lady standing in the hallway. How are you today, mom? The old lady did not answer, but welcomed here with a grimace.

   - I brought your medicine. The pharmacist confirmed the doctor's opinion that you should get better...

   - Where were you before coming here, cut her the old lady, severely looking, even though powerfully trembling her head.

   - I've been to work, I always tell you this.

   - But you never told me what work you do...

   Silence stood for a few seconds between the two. Then the old lady continued.

   - People are talking bad things about you. Really bad. And I'm too old and sick to believe such things. It would be terrible if they were true. They aren't true, are they?

   - Oh, mom... People will always say bad things.You don't have to believe them. I'm your only one and you raised me well. And I'm working hard to get us out of this place. You'll see, we'll move to a nice place, with nice people and nice weather. Just have more patience, added she as the old lady sat with her head on her shoulder, both on the hallway sofa.

Not right

VI

   "They always looked better before than after", the lawyer thought looking at her, dressing. "But still so beautiful..."

   - Don't stare at me like that, you know I don't like it. Plus, you didn't pay for this too, joked she.

   - I'll tip you extra next time.

   - Can you help me with my dress?

   - Gladly! "I think this is my favorite moment", he spoke silently. "When I can look at your hair falling on your shoulders without worrying you'll leave me in that instant. And only after I move your hair so that it won't get stuck in the zipper".

   - Please hurry, said she and he closed the zipper in one slow move. And tell me what do you think of when you stare at me like that.

   - I'd rather not...

   - Please! If you tell me I'll let you stare from now on.

   - I think of different things. But in French, you make me think in French.

   - Why French, asked she while grabbing her purse.

   - I don't know, maybe you look like someone that I saw in France and that I liked. The thing is that it always seems to me that you look and move like a beautiful French woman, like a French woman would naturally do.

   - How do you call me the French in your thoughts?

   - La pute qui rêve avec moi.

   - What does it mean?

   - It means the beauty that dreams with me.

   - I dream?

   - No, actually you dream along with me. I am the first dreamer.

   - And what do we dream about?

   - We dream that I've won the lottery or found a case full of money or that I got a really big contract. And that we'll use the money to travel for the rest of our life. Until we get sick of travelling and we decide to settle down and have children. But first we dream of travelling to Paris. 

   - That would be nice. She was standing.

   - Can't you stay longer? I would like for you just to stay a bit more with me.

   - I can't, I have other clients to see. Next time you can book me longer, continued she. Au revoir! Did I said it right?

   - Yes, you did. Au revoir, said he. And she went out, leaving him to contemplate the empty room and the echo of the clinch from the front door.

Not right

V

- Let's sit by the table under that oak. I saw you were not loved by your father, said the lawyer.

- Did he tell you this?

- No. But he donated all his fortune to charity and left you only an envelope. Looking at how your outfit looks, I'd say you could've used at least a percent of his shares.

- I'm doing just fine, thank you, answered he straight.

- He told me this about you, when he made his instructions, that you think you're fine. Anyhow, this is not my concern. All I have to do is give you this envelope. And he placed a white envelope on the table.

- Thank you! As the lawyer was still standing there, he dared to say that he can read it by himself, no need for the lawyers help.

- I'm sure you can, but your father instructed me to stay with you until you read it all and then add one more thing.

- And what is that thing?

- I'll tell you when you're done reading.

- As you wish, Mr.Lawyer. He opened the letter with his bare hands, crumpling it terribly. By the markings he could tell that the letter had been written on a typewriter.

- He could've at least written it with its own hands, sulked he.

- He did. But at that time your father was already too sick to write it by hand. But at least he typed it, no one else read it, if this is your worry. Please read it.

   My son,

   As you read these lines, you've probably already seen me as you sometimes wished for me to be. I do not wish to discuss this here nor never. It is a too tiring thing to do and I don't have the necessary strength anymore. Rather I would like to give you some advice as a man in his eighth and last decade of life. You may choose to listen to them or just to ignore them. Whatever you'll do I will be happy that I did what I think was my duty, that is to share some knowledge to you as my son. 

   First of all, I had cared about your mother. I care and miss her even now, though I do not know anything about her for some 30 years. I have tried to explain to myself, to try to understand my actions with regard to her, the things I said and done, of which you maybe know from her,  but I have failed. I have only excuses that make me even more mad. I cannot tell you how not to make my mistakes. Nor can I tell you something about that thing that people use to call "love". From my point of view there is no such thing, but just chemicals and the resulting poor judgment. But I have found that there exists something very important in life and here I want to get. There is in every human being's heart a need to be accompanied through life, to share the weight on his shoulder. This is what troubled me without realizing it for most of my life and unfortunately I got to understand it only now. We need someones, whether we're criminals or idiots, we need someone. And not just someone every month. We need them for all the run, to know us and use this knowledge to out own advantage. I emphasize this as I am to tell you that I've followed your life through eyes that I have hired. I needed to know if you are well, blame me if you want. Those eyes told me you are a wanderer, that you waste your life travelling without a purpose. I tried to guess why you do this. Many answers came to my head, but I couldn't choose one. It doesn't matter anyway, because most certainly my advice would be for all you do to stop. Whatever you're trying to do or prove, it has to stop because you're just wasting your life. You are in your fourth decade and you're still alone. You might think you're not, but you'll realize latter that you are. All those friends you made on the road, all those nights in hostels, surely make you feel different, but it isn't so. I'm sure you feel sometimes like I often felt during the night or morning when I was sad without knowing why. Loneliness is a strange thing, it tricks you. You may surround you with all the persons in the telephone book, but if that right person is not among them, it is all in vain. I have tasted this as you know. I found that person once and I chased it away. Don't make my mistake. Settle down a while, meet some people from the place where you'll be and try to see a person, focus on her. If you think you're unhappy, try to see whether this does not come from yourself. Isolate more with that person from the outside world for a while, try to release yourself from the misconceptions that this world plants into us. For what I know, we pay too much attention to the collective brain, not to our own. I hope you see the points I'm making, without laughing of me. Even if you're laughing, at least think of giving this life I'm wishing for you a try. You seem to be having a lot of time, use it to try this. If you'll regret, well, you can curse me one more times, I don't mind. I guess this is all I have to say to you. It's almost a shame, I'm dying and I can leave so less wisdom... My lawyer will add something to this letter, that I did not consider proper writing, considering it childish, quite worthy of kindergarten children. But it seems the only right thing that I could do for you at the moment. Take care, son!

   The lawyer was looking into his eyes, but could see nothing. Only he heard him saying that he would prefer to leave now.

- So please tell me what he wanted to tell me more.

- He wanted you to remember Anne.

Ah, yes! Anne, he thought and blood rushed to his cervix. Memories started sliding in front of his eyes and sadness froze his face.

- I remember Anne.

- I knew you would, spoke the lawyer as he pushed on the table a little piece of folded paper. Your father leaves you as inheritance her address. She doesn't have anyone.

   "And there it goes, that ruthless old man did a good deed in the end," thought the lawyer as that not so young man left from that table without saying anything, but with that piece of paper in his pocket. The lawyer cleaned his pants from dust and rushed to his own business.

Not right

IV

As he standed there, looking at the dead body, all he could do was to ask himself, silently, who was that motionless being. "Correct your thoughts, it is not being anymore". Correcting he did and his attention moved to other motionless things. The pale white of the dead contrasted nicely with the black of the coffin. The white silk or what was it made a nice transition between the two. The ring was no longer on his hand and that hand seemed thinner than he remembered it to be. But the belly was still standing high. "The peasants would judge this and say that he had been rich, blessed with a good life", he thought, awarding himself a smile. Not like the dead, who on his face even dead kept that characteristic grimace. Probably because of it he had now more wrinkles. Many more. "I'm not happy with that", his face was saying at that time, though time for him has stopped.
- Well of course you're not happy with this, he said to himself and sketched a smile. Then, though it was silence, he remembered there were other people there. But no one seemed to have noticed his remark. It was like they were dead too. Except for one, who was checking his shoes. So he went outside, without looking once more at the dead. But before going out the door, he stopped by the man with the shoes, bowed to his ear and whispered "Your shoes are fine, the finest thing in here". And then, yes, he stepped out the door feeling quite joyous.
The sun was shinning beautifully on the sky. No cloud up there, only birds cutting the air down here. He was feeling so full of energy that he could not bear to ask himself if he has ever been so alive. "I had to see a dead man to realize how alive I am. Poor me..." With this thought in mind he went down the five steps of the church, sensing well in his ears the noise his shoes made on that sandstone as the lawyer was coming towards him to shake hands.
- You don't look too shook down.
- Is it that obvious? I'm starting to be ashamed of it.
- Let's go for a walk. There's something I have to show you. It won't take long.

Not right

III

   - If you wouldn't have done this I would have left you. You would have remained alone. Miserable and alone. But you finally did the right thing in your life. Well done, George! And she looked at him quite satisfied as the radio went on with the news. Some train had derailed not far from their farm.

   - Look, George! There's a man on the side of the road waving towards us. Pull over! George complied and hit the brakes. There was a man who looked like he had been travelling for months, carrying a beard, torn sneakers and dusty clothes. Especially his shirt had lost its color.
   - Good morning! Can you take me to the next city, please?
   - Sure! It's not far. Just put your backpack in the trunk, said the woman in a mild voice. And the man obeyed, so soon the wheels were spinning again.
   - Thank you so much! You appeared to me like a seagull to the sailors after too much time on the sea. I've been waiting for hours for a car to stop. Are you going further than the city?
   - No, just there. We're relocating there. That's why you had to squeeze yourself between all that luggage in the back. Sorry about that, had replied the man.
   - There no problem. I'm very happy as it is. Are you coming from far out?
   - No, just from a couple of minutes from where you were. We had a farm there, but it wasn't too much about it, so now we're going to try our luck in the city...
   - George, don't tell him so, intervened the woman. It's not a matter of luck, it's surely something better than what we had with the farm. It's like being reborn, seeing the world in a new way, more exciting way. You must know what I'm talking about, you're travelling like this for excitement, aren't you?
   - Well, not quite, said the man in the faded shirt. Now I'm going to a funeral, I've got a black suit in my backpack. It was an old friend, haven't talked to him since our school years and now I want to say goodbye and solve some unfinished issues. And by saying this the man turned his eyes to the view revealing to his right. The other felt that it was better to be quiet and didn't shared a word until they got to the city.
   - We'll drop you off here, near the old wooden church. Do you know your way from here?
   - Yes, thank you. And the man then took his backpack, said goodbye and took on the street to the right of the church. It was noon and he was to hurry.

Not right

II

"It surely was a nice farm", seems George to think while he loads the luggage in the trunk.

- Screw the farm!

As if she read his mind, she yelled from the car, where she has placed herself very early. As she sits there eagerly waiting to go, you can see that she still keeps some beauty, especially in those big olive eyes that wouldn't let you think she could even step on an ant, not to say swear. Sure thing George had been a lucky man in his youth. It's not easy to get such a catch, especially if you're a bit over the poverty line and the looks don't push you higher on the social ladder. Many were asking even at the wedding what did she saw in him. Many asked even now why didn't she leave, as she was still carrying some good looks on her. She could have went back to the city, find herself a decent man, that could offer her what she wanted: a good home and good money to raise a couple of children. Why didn't she left? Even she could not answer. Only he knew and understood it when it became clear that things were not going to get better at the farm. It was because of the seed he had planted in her mind long before, when they just went for a few cups of tea at that nice place.

"The seed of hope", he would repeat when she was not around and he was watching the fishes or just fishing in the pond. This seed was a dream of his, that actually made her fall in love with him. It was the dream of a decent life, with kids and joy, a quiet life away from all the noise in this world, a life where he would write and take care of the gardens, and she would read and take care of the children. But the writing didn't work, nor did the children. It seems that she got to know in the end that she does not like such a life. 

- I can't wait until we get to my old town! I've never been so excited since our wedding. I've got so many old friend to meet... Do you remember Denise? We used to have so much fun together. Then I met you...

Yes, she was careful to poison him once in a while with carefully chosen words. It was her only way to take revenge for the seed. That seed in time became poisonous for her. She often cursed him for placing her in his dreams, dreams he should have known he cannot achieve. Rather she started dreaming her own dreams, dreams of what it could have been for her if she would not have met him. This was the poisonous seed that she loved placing in his heart, knowing that he cannot reply to this.

"Mommy always told me not to make her mistake, to marry for love. But I did, I married you and made her believe that it's like a curse on the women in our family. I could have travelled for years, see half the world around. I never got to see Paris! And you told me you will take me there some day... And my old friends went. And I lost them... Last time not even one called to congratulate me on my birthday. That's because they didn't like coming to this place."

But the engine was started and they were moving away from the farm, with their car packed and with her happy on his right. As they go on the main road, he takes a look in the side mirror and sighs a bit. "At least I got the tank in the car", he speaks to his mind and changes the gear.

Not right

I

- Something just doesn't feel right. I have the constant feeling that this is not how it's supposed to be. George?! Are you lis'ening?
George takes some time to answer, as if he was reading something interesting, which he wasn't.
- Yeah, I'm listening... What did you said?
George answered as if it was a duty, but now that the duty is done, he can go back to whatever he was doing. Well, not quite whatever, 'cause this whatever is very important to George. He is sitting in his oak stool  and watches how the fishes play in the tank. It is actually an aquarium with glass and pipes and all the stuff, but George prefers it to be called a tank 'cause calling it an aquarium would make it an in-the-house thing. And the tank is outside, not in the house, it's right on the verandah. George made the tank himself, it took him some brain cells, some time and just a nail, but he was proud as hell when it was done. Then he went to town to buy some fishes, but only bought three. That's 'cause only three he liked. And now he likes to stay and watch them play. Well, it is not sure if they are playing, but it surely looks so. The golden fish always seems to guard something and when the other two come to capture the flag, the golden would come aggressively to stop them thieves. And they always stop, until the next time. It's a bit sad this golden, from the outside it seems to be really lonely, but he doesn't seem to mind so I guess it's alright. But the other two are really good friends, they do everything together. The silver seems to be the one with ideas, doing the leading, but this doesn't mind the Japanese. Yeah, George calls him Japanese 'cause he's white and has a big red spot on his belly. A truly special fish. George bets that he could make a fortune selling it to a yellow fellow, only if he'd want to. But he doesn't, it's his dear fish.
- I mean I work the same stuff every Monday to Friday, then I come home to you and eat with you, and hear your stupid stories 'bout your stupid job which I actually do not consider a job. Then I go to sleep. And in the morning it starts all over. Oh! And the weekends, they're really special, ain't they? I'm doing your clothes, clean the house which you ravaged during the week and cook week-long meals. And maybe if I'm lucky I see a good movie at night, but not the whole movie. No, no! 'Cause I have to do room-service for you, George! You, George! You! It's all because of you! You took me from town and brought me to this dull life. We have no friends, George! None, it's just us and these three fishes. What do you see so interesting 'bout them?
The golden one has hidden himself behind the rock and waits for those two lame ducks to make another try. But they know this trick, they've seen it so many times before. They make a double attack. It's like silver told Japanese:
- You take the right flank and I go on the right! We move on three! One, two, three!
The two beat their tails as best as they can and head straight to golden's place. You'd say they've done it this time, but golden cuts their path right when it was almost too late.
- Where y'a heading, boys?
So seems golden to say with a grumpy face. And the boys go back to where they belong and would even put their tails between their legs if they would have any. Legs, that is.
It's sunset over George's farm and the lady just won't shut up. A quarter of a disk of light still beams to their right, but the bats are already out. And the mosquitoes more. They surely come from the small pond behind the farm. There's a good place for them to be there, under the shadow of those willows and with that cool coming from the forest.
- Ugly, scary creatures. Don't you think, my flower? But not as scary as spiders. Could you imagine a mosquito the size of a tarantula? Only the thought of such a thing gives me the shiver.
- Oh, God! It's like you don't hear what I'm saying to you. Do you do it on purpose? 'Cause it certainly seems so. I swear, George! I swear I'm gonna quit pretending to be your flower and become a bird. And fly away, away from this place. I cannot take it anymore. This not at all what I had in mind when you proposed.
I cannot take it anymore... You have to do something!
She takes his arm from the handle and almost begs him with tears:
- You have to do something about our life, George!

What I think it is

'Welcome to my labyrinth' he says,
While showing the baldness from under his hat.
'Your wish to reach the other end
Shall surely not be my concern.'

'Welcome to my ocean trench', he laughs,
While showing you the minuscule dictionary.
'The rage for not having enough words
Is what for you I propose.'

'Welcome to my high desert', he spits,
Trembling his upper lip.
'Your wish for actions not in vain
Shall be my most delightful gain.'

'Welcome to this boggy jungle', he'll shout
From up the tallest tree.
'Your suffering of caring and not being cared about
Will not meet she.


'Welcome to my Orwellian dream', he'll say
With spiders in your cell.
'You'll see how an incurable disease it is
But yet you'll curse for it not being so.'


'Bienvenue to my time lab', he'll show
While not quite so.
'You'll wish to throw the sand
But your mistakes will be long done.'


'Welcome to my circus', he'll trumpet
Til your ears will fade.
'You'll wish to explain and understand yourself
But it'll just be laughed at.'

The one that plans so future plans can again be,
The wish that your actions will not be in vain,
The 'what if'
This is what this natural gentleman will come about to be.