"Have you ever tried to see the way a child does? It's fascinating really. They can turn houses into castles, shadows into monsters, and can make even the trickiest of politics look elementary."
James sat at his desk, looking away. His hands were covered in ink and dirt. He had been writing, he had been playing, he had been writing. His wife had walked in, annoyed with his neglect of her. She was growing weary of his episodes, his leaving. He would abandon her for days, only talking about the widow Davies and her four sons.
"They're really spectacular boys," James had said fondly. Mary didn't believe him.
"They're boys," Mary stated. "They're young boys who like to roughhouse. I don't know why you ever invited them."
James smiled to himself. "They're boys, and they like to dream."
Mary liked to dream. She dreamt of life as a married woman with a doting husband and financial success. It sounded shallow, but it was what she wanted. No one could begrudge her of wanting some financial security. No one could begrudge her of wanting affection or love.
The woman was wearing her evening dress, waiting impatiently for her husband to change. "James, you have two hours. Please, shower and change. The guests will be here soon."
It wasn't that he was irritated by her, but James found the whole idea of the dinner party ridiculous. It was... boring. It was full of stiff talk and useless chatter. Who's seen what? Have there been any good sports matches? Polo? Cricket? Croquet? Mary loved hearing about it because it helped her know what was up in the world. In high society. James felt he was outside of all that.
"You invited children to this party, you may as well set a good example," Mary tried again. "Come on, James. I know that you gave up writing. You're just sitting there."
That was true. James was really just trying to balance his thoughts. He was upset, actually. He didn't want to be a part of this party. But then he remembered Sylvia and the boys. And then he remembered that he was a host and that it was Sylvia's first party in a long time.
"Have you ever tried to see the way a child does?" James turned to look at his wife through imploring eyes. Mary just stared at him like he didn't make sense. "It's fascinating really," he continued. "They can turn houses into castles, shadows into monsters, and can make even the trickiest of politics look elementary."
Mary didn't say much. She just looked at him, mouth in a slight frown. Then she did something surprising. She smiled. "Just get changed, James. Just get changed." And she walked out.
