He lives alone. "I always have lived alone, and I always will," he says. One of those statements isn't true. He's not sure which one.
Imagine a tall man in a hat. Pardon me, I was wrong about that; imagine a man in a tall hat. The hat is tall, but the man is actually quite short. A short man in a tall hat. Imagine he has tousled hair either the color of a murky pond or a yellow lab after playing in the rain. You decide which.
Imagine a shimmering, green Emerald. Now, take that emerald and throw it in the ocean. Go dig it back up again. I want you to now use it as a football. That's right, kick around a bit; make a couple goals. Now toss it in the mud and leave it there for a month. All right, you can go back and get it now, but the only thing you have to clean it with is a dry handkerchief. Imagine that this is the color of the man's eyes.
They might have once shimmered and sparkled with life and adventure, but they are dull and dirty now. Too murky to see anything playful. His face looks the same way. Not green, but dull. The only expressive facial feature he has are his eyebrows. These are quite intense and, to some, quite frightening. Imagine this man with me. He is wearing a tall hat and a black suit with a bow tie and coat tails, complete with a decorative cane. He feels rather ridiculous.
He lives alone. His name is Arthur Kirkland. If he had any family or friends-which he doesn't-and you asked them what his life motto is they would probably say, "There comes a time where everyone must grow up." His colleagues would have agreed.
Imagine this man, Arthur Kirkland, getting off a train at Paddington station. He is dressed in those ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, clothes for a work event. He would much rather be at home than out galavanting across London in such a ridiculous outfit, but his colleagues and higher ups already thought him to be quite stiff. If he didn't show up, surely they would never consider him for the promotion he'd been working towards the last three years. So, he wore the ridiculous costume and made his way to the Grand Ball as they were calling it. A ridiculous notion, really. Balls were a thing of the past; a silly exercise of the rich and royal who had too much time and money on their hands. Arthur Kirkland huffed indignantly.
"Utterly ridiculous," he muttered to himself under his breath. He exited the train and walked-rather quickly despite his short legs-to the station exit. From here, he wouldn't have to walk far. As he was passing the station signpost, however, the one that read "Paddington Station," he heard a small voice address him.
"Pardon me, dear sir," the voice said. "But would you happen to be able to spare a marmalade sandwich? Or any sandwich at this point, really." Arthur looked down to find a small bear in a red hat and a blue coat sitting on a little brown suitcase looking up at him with eager eyes. Arthur froze, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to walk past the bear and continue on his way, but he couldn't get out of his mind another bear he had once known, so long ago... He shook himself out of it. This was a completely different bear, yet it brought up all of those memories. Arthur decided instead to face his emotions. He stopped and addressed the bear,
"Why do you think I would carry a spare marmalade sandwich with me?" He was hoping to stump the bear who, surely was of very little brain like most other bears, but the bear was quick to respond.
"Because I always carry a spare marmalade sandwich with me," he said.
"Then why don't you eat that one?" Arthur questioned.
"I did. Yesterday at lunch, and I haven't eaten anything since," the bear replied matter of a factly. Arthur was surprised.
"You haven't eaten anything all day?"
"No, sir, I have not. Hence why I asked you for a sandwich," the bear answered.
"Why do you think I have a sandwich?"
"Well, I suppose because you stopped. And because the last 52 people I asked did not have a sandwich, so the probability of the next person I ask having a sandwich surely is very high at this point." He's an optimist, Arthur thought. All the more reason to walk away. Yet, he stood there. Perhaps because of many reasons, but surely also because he did indeed have a marmalade sandwich with him. Although it was not a spare. He had brought one secretly in case he decided to refrain from the ridiculous food at the ridiculous party and needed something to eat instead. If he gave it to this bear, not only would he be late, but then he would be forced to eat the food or starve until he could get home and make another sandwich.
Then, a thought came to his mind. He didn't particularly like it, but it might spare him of a dreadful evening out and put him in a good light to his co-workers. Arthur crouched down to the bear's height and looked him in the eyes. They were warm brown eyes, innocent and naive, yet clever in their own little way. They felt very familiar, yet completely different at the same time. Arthur had to force himself to stay focused and not let his emotions get in the way of this tactical endeavor.
"Bear, do you need a place to stay tonight? Perhaps you could come home with me and clean up and eat some food? Then, in the morning I could escort you wherever you need to go." Arthur did not want to take the bear home. But when he told his boss and colleagues that he helped a hungry bear find its way home they might not see him as such a stickler. Not that he cared what they thought; he just wanted a promotion.
The bear's eyes lit up.
"You would be willing to let me stay with you? Why, thank you so much! That is more than I could ever ask for! Yes, I will gladly accept your offer!" The bear exclaimed. Arthur nodded. Now, he had a legitimate reason to miss tonight's ridiculous dinner. Although, what he was doing now was slightly ridiculous in and of itself. He just hoped he made the right choice.
Arthur escorted the bear back to the train and handed him his marmalade sandwich to eat along the way. If he really hadn't eaten in at least a day surely he did not want to wait until they got back to Arthur's flat for a meal. As the last few people loaded on the train, Arthur asked the bear,
"Would you mind telling me your name?"
"I don't have a name. Well, I only have a bear name, that is to say, but they don't translate very well into English," the bear replied. Arthur huffed.
"Ridiculous. Everyone needs a name, even a bear." Arthur looked at the people around him. Some of them were gawking at the sight of a man in ridiculous clothes sitting next to a small bear. He huffed and looked out the window to purposely ignore them. His eyes wandered to the sign post where he had met the bear just a few moments earlier.
Paddington Station it read.
"What about Paddington? That is where I found you," Arthur suggested. The bear's ears perked up and he turned to Arthur after biting into the sandwich.
"Paddington. Yes, I think that will do me just fine. And what, my dear sir, is your name?" Paddington asked.
"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. But you can call me Mr. Kirkland," Arthur specified. Paddington seemed slightly disappointed, but he nodded. The doors closed and the train started moving.
"All right, Mr. Kirkland. Where are you from, may I ask? Have you always lived here in London?" Arthur refused to look at the bear, instead watching the tunnel fly by outside the window.
"No, you may not ask. The past is irrelevant. What matters is the future," Arthur answered. He watched the bear's reaction through a reflection in the window. He was clearly upset. His ears appeared droopy and his eyes were full of rejection.
"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," he apologized. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but couldn't quite muster up the courage. Finally, he breathed deeply and took the plunge. "However, I have to disagree with you. I come from darkest Peru, and my Aunt Lucy always says that your past is important. If you don't remember your past mistakes or successes, how are you to learn from them? What's the point of accomplishing anything just to move right on to another thing without even celebrating your success?" Paddington explained.
"And what is the point of remembering something that was horrid enough to experience in the first place nonetheless a second time, or a third time, or perhaps even a fourth or fifth time?" Arthur and Paddington both were taken aback by his sharp response. His mind's eye suddenly brought up a reel of past images. When he returned to the present moment, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
"Mr. Kirkland? Are you ill?" Paddington asked. His voice was filled with concern and bewilderment. Arthur realized that he was trembling and sweating. He tugged at his shirt collar and wiped the sweat off his brow, all the while trying to slow his breathing.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I simply… I have a condition that's all. I'll recover in a moment," he replied vaguely. Paddington didn't seem fully convinced, but he didn't press him further. They sat in silence the rest of the way home.
Arthur led the bear to his small flat on the third floor. It was obvious that his house was not on the wealthier, or even safer, side of town, but Paddington said nothing about it. Rather, he seemed quite amazed, as if he had been in that train station his whole life. Arthur gave a side glance at his wondrous face. His small, dark eyes appeared not to take it all in properly.
"Have you never seen a dumpy flat before?" Arthur finally question as they walked up the dim stairwell. Paddington was surprised.
"Dumpy flat? Well, I haven't exactly seen any flats. As I said before, I'm from darkest Peru. I only recently arrived in England a few days ago after stowing aboard a cargo vessel. I used what little money my Aunt Lucy had to give me to travel to London and then to Paddington station only to realize I had nothing for food or shelter, so I just stayed there."
"You traveled all the way to London from Peru by yourself? I thought you were just a cub!" Arthur declared, mildly impressed. Perhaps this bear was more grown up than Arthur had realized.
"Oh, I'm definitely not a grown bear yet, Mr. Kirkland. My Aunt Lucy wanted to come with me, but she is too old to travel that far. In the end, she decided that I was at least old enough to get here safely, and she was right!" He clarified, grinning happily as he did. Arthur didn't respond. Instead he unlocked the door to his flat and began to realize that this might throw a small kink in his plans. Arthur had planned on escorting the bear home the very next day, but if the bear had only arrived a few days ago… He would not have a home to be escorted to. Arthur gave a quiet sigh as he realized that this bear's stay might be a bit longer than he had hoped. I'll give him one week to find somewhere to go. He thought to himself. One week.
Arthur suddenly groaned as he heard an all too familiar noise behind him. It was the opening of a door.
"Well, what do we have here? Arthur seems to have a heart after all," came a thickly French-accented voice behind him. Paddington jumped on this opportunity.
"Is this your neighbor, Mr. Kirkland? A pleasure to meet you, I'm Paddington from darkest Peru. Mr. Kirkland is allowing me to spend the night with him until I find somewhere else to stay," Paddington introduced. The man laughed. It was horridly, stereotypically French.
"Mr. Kirkland?! Arthur, you fool, I take back my earlier statement: you really don't have a heart. How does this benefit your business, hmm? I can't wait to hear that story later… I'm Francis, 'Mr. Kirkland's' kinder, better looking neighbor," Francis replied. Arthur scowled as he opened the door to his flat.
"Ignore him, Paddington, and stay away from him at all costs; he's a perverted frog," Arthur warned. Francis frowned. He didn't exactly appear offended, rather simply disappointed.
"I'm hurt, Arthur. At least I allow myself to feel something other than bitterness and despair. Oh, and I'm inviting some friends over tonight so I apologize ahead of time for the ruckus," he added. Arthur squeezed the bridge of his nose. He could already begin to feel a headache approaching.
"Don't tell me it's that ghastly Spaniard and that… Where is he from again? Germany?"
"Yes, he is German. Though he'll tell you he's Prussian; don't ask me why." Britain shook his head.
"Ridiculous. Please don't get too drunk. I have a lot to do tomorrow, and I would like to at least get a semblance of sleep," the Brit pleaded. Francis gave a mischievous grin.
"I can't make any promises. Good night, old man."
He winked as he began to return to his own dwelling right across from Arthur's.
"Just stay quiet at least, drunkard," Arthur replied as he shut the door behind him and Paddington.
Francis heard a quick, friendly, "Good night, Francis! It was a pleasure to meet you!" from the bear right before the lock clicked. The Frenchman sighed, and his eyes couldn't help but linger on the door just a few moments longer.
Someday, he thought, before closing his own door.