Chapter Twelve
Dr. Gangle vs. Mr. De Rossi
Rather than bring Mr. De Rossi up to speed on the rather tillitating parts of Ariel's latest part of the story, Mr. Whittington focused purely on the facts, and without further ado, both Mr. Whittington and Rodger settled back with their notebooks for the latest installment.
(Gangle picks up the story.)
Dinner with Giovanni and Maria was as pleasant as it was an exercise in evasion and maintaining positive relations. Over a meal of linguini, clams, and sparkling glasses of white wine, we talked about our day together in Phantasma, careful to avoid such hair-raising topics as Ariel, what constituted an innocent vs. lewd glance, and why precisely Maria and I had vanished after lunch.
Reclining in her chair, her hair topped by a velvet hat, her eyes partly shaded by a veil, Maria was as beautiful as a piece of forbidden fruit. At her side, Giovanni was just as exuberant and cocksure as ever, pouring wine and laughing at his own jokes. The world-or at least this little piece of it-was his to command. Once or twice, however, I detected a trembling undercurrent of fear in his chuckle, and the look in his eyes as he looked at Maria and then at me was that of a wolverine alpha-male who feared a coup d'etat by the lesser beasts. To hide it, he partook heartily of the wine and cigars, acting like he was Don Giovanni, being brought up to speed on the latest developments by his soldatos.
"So, Gregory," said Giovanni, exhaling a stream of smoke. "How you getting on with Ah-ree-ella? If I were you, I'd move in queekly-like, or by thees-ah time next year she'll be cooking another man's supper. She too cute-ah to stay alone for long."
He didn't look at me when he said that. He didn't need to. I remembered the fire in his eyes when he'd introduced himself to Ariel earlier, the way he deliberately gave her body the ol' once over. He suspected that I was getting friendly with Maria again, so he had no qualms about getting friendly with Ariel in revenge.
Of course he did not say this. We never approached the subject once during the whole meal, but it was there, like an elephant in the room.
"Giovanni," purred Maria. She stroked his chin. "Never mind Gregory, bello. Tell him about our plans."
The pleasure on Giovanni's face when asked to ignore me and talk about himself was borderline orgasmic. "Ah, si, mia cara," he replied to his darling. "I will do that."
The funny thing is that Maria was stroking my leg under the table at the exact same time she was stroking Giovanni's chin. I have rarely been so grateful for long tablecloths.
"Well-ah, brother, Maria and I have eek-sten-ded our stay here. You remember the Gambinos? Well, they offered to board us through Seh-tehm-burr, for only a leetle money. Very good for us, no?"
"Ah, si, very good," I replied, both in reply to Giovanni and in quick, winking appreciation of Maria's expert massaging skills.
"I like-ah the United States," said Giovanni. "Nice place, nice things to see. Very nice things to see."
I saw where he was going and gave a preemptive strike. "Ah, but does the United States like you, Giovanni, that is the question! You found any good places for restaurants? You still looking?"
His clean-shaven, well-molded countenance briefly tightened in displeasure at having his insinuation spun around, but his voice was perfectly cool as he lifted his wine to his lips and replied, "I am, ah, still looking."
Between the time he sipped and the time he finished, Maria concocted a conversation-steerer.
"The Fourth of Joo-lye is coming soon," she said. "We don't have that holiday in Ee-taly. I have never been at a celebration for it before, no, not in all-ah my life. We must...ah..." Here she felt me most tantalizingly-"Do something."
"Si," I replied, a little too feelingly, and I corrected myself. "Ah, si. I will likely have all sorts of things to do for the ceremonies, but I will, most certainly..." I smoothed my hand over her stroking one-"Make time for you."
"And we must see Ah-ree-ella again," added Giovanni.
"Si, si," I replied. "I will make time for all of you. Nobody gets left out."
Shortly after that, the meal ended. Maria's hand withdrew from my leg, but before I could rise, it was back again with a piece of paper. A secret note! I tucked it into my pocket and stood up.
"We will see you again soon, Greg," said Giovanni, taking Maria's hand a bit roughly. "Buona notte."
"Buona notte."
)
(
)
That sneaky Maria! The note told me to go to the Gypsy Cafe (which was brand-new in those days) at eight o' clock and wait for her. In hindsight, my behavior disappoints me, but at the time my heart was filled with lust, and my legs were still tingling where her little hand had touched them. Ah, Maria! Maria! After all these years, my heart still pounded at the very touch of Maria! Off I strolled through the night. Above me were the stars. Ariel would be watching them alone tonight.
My heart stopped pounding. I slowed my step, my mind suddenly troubled as I looked into the diamond points of light. I saw her in my mind. She was sitting on the bench, looking up, as I now was, her dreamy eyes full of stars and her hands folded in her lap. She might say something, but there was no one to hear.
I was filled with remorse.
As you ought to be! (nagged Dr. Gangle.) How can you do this? Maria is practically engaged to your brother, and you're off to have a petting session with her at a cafe! You should be protecting her from herself, leading her in the right way. You're the man here. Act like one!
Practically engaged means nothing! (growled Mr. De Rossi.) Until there's a ring, it's anybody's game! Besides, you and Maria were in love first! Giovanni just swooped in after you left. You've got the claim on her, not him!
But it's Ariel you love, remember? (reminded Dr. Gangle.) Or have you forgotten her and the whole reason why you wanted to be a better person?
That made me feel so injured that I seriously considered going right back to Coney, right back to Ariel.
Well, (sighed Mr. De Rossi.) If sitting on a bench listening to Ariel wet herself over Mr. Y is what you want to do, go on! Forsake the company of a woman who really wants you, and torment yourself listening to the romantic groanings of one who doesn't. Great plan!
The glowing eyes of the Ayrie suddenly intruded upon my mental image of lonely Ariel, watching the stars. Now she was watching the Ayrie, hunger in her eyes. I heard her singing with Mr. Y. She wasn't giving me the tiniest thought. How could she when Mr. Y was there? She was so in love with the man that she would not even believe he was the Opera Ghost! And I was still trekking along with her, trying to help her disprove it, all the while pushing her away from me.
Grief and fury boiled and twisted in my heart, and I gave the pavement a vicious kick. Hell with it all. I was going to see Maria.
)
(
)
An hour later, I was leaning back against the supple padding of a dark, smoky booth, with my Maria in my arms, her perfumed hair in my face and her hands lovingly caressing me. To deflect any potential criticism, we ordered drinks, which we largely ignored. We were too busy loving each other.
"Bello," she whispered. "You so sweet."
"Bella," I whispered back. "You sweetest."
And then we lapsed into the comfortable warmth of embraces and long, luxurious kisses. Ah, if only it were not for the nagging guilt, my joy would be complete. At this very moment, Giovanni was in bed, sleeping the sleep of the handsome and ignorant, his mind swimming with dreams, and I was in this cafe, kissing Maria.
"Gregory," Maria asked after a while, "You really going to get engaged to that Ah-ree-ella girl?"
It was as though a spotlight had suddenly blared upon me. "You going to get engaged to Giovanni?" I asked.
She remained leaning against me. "Until very recently, I thought so. We thought so."
"Giovanni doesn't want to marry you anymore?"
"No, no, he does," she said quickly. "But, Greg dear, I don't know if I do. When you left, Vanni sort of dashed in, calmed the hurt. He is a very nice man, Greg, even if the two of you have trouble sometimes. He is nice to me!"
"But..." I began for her.
She swallowed. "But now here you are again, and I still love you."
"And I still love you, Bella." I put her under the crook of my neck. "Very much."
There was a silence, but Maria broke it with a trembling, "I don't want to hurt Vanni." A tear bubbled out of her eye. "He does not deserve to be hurt, but it seems that somebody must be hurt when all is said and done, Greg. So that is why I asked if you going to get engaged to Ah-ree-ella. I need to know, to help my decision."
So Maria was having the same problems.
"I'm having a hard decision, too," I confessed. "Until you came back, I thought I would surely marry Ariel one day. But now she's not very interested, and here you are, Bella. I did not think I would ever see you again, so I never gave it any thought."
"So...what do we do?" Maria ventured feebly.
"We make a decision," I said, knowing it would come to this one way or another. "Not tonight. We will wait it out, until September, and then we will both make a final decision. For you, it will be either me or Giovanni, and for me it will be either you or Ariel. This sneaking around is not good for anyone. It must be one or the other."
It sounded harsh and terrible, no matter how softly it was delivered.
Maria quivered. "Yes. That is what we must do."
"But no matter what the choices are, Bella, I want you to know that I will always love you."
"I will always love you too, Bello."
More kisses, even more fiercely than before, aided by our emotions. If this were Italy, I would have taken her to a hotel and had her three ways by now, but my love for Ariel, struggling though it was, prevented me from getting to that point. It made me hungry, though. Just like feeling hungry for a sandwich or something. It nagged me, even after I waved goodbye to Maria and watched her vanish into the house. It continued to nag me, even as I entered Phantasma and went into bed.
I lay down, tossed off my drawers, and looked wearily around in the darkness. Ariel was certainly in bed now. I brought my tongue across my lips and tasted Maria's lipstick.
You're an animal, De Rossi. (I thought to myself.) But it's true, what you said back the restaurant. You and Maria have a decision to make.
I rolled onto my belly and sank into my sheets, lonely and miserable. At this moment, Ariel was likely playing bridge with Alf, dreaming about how wonderful Mr. Y and his music was, and back in Brooklyn, Maria and Giovanni were likely doing the horizontal tango.
Me? I was lying in bed, nerves aflame, preparing to sleep the troubled sleep of the deeply frustrated. Buona notte!
)
(
)
I hate warm, dreamy, rose-scented days in July, and not because I've got anything against warmth, or dreams, or even roses. It's just that when those three elements get all cooked up in the heat of a dusky, hazy July day, its effect on me is surefire: it makes my mind drift, most maddeningly, to sex. I found it (and still find it) astounding. Despite my composed "Dr. Gangle" persona, despite years of socialization and manners, despite the fact that humanity was producing flying machines and antibiotics, all it took was the suggestive hint of a warm breeze, and I became a crazed alpha-male, straight out of the Stone Age, eager to let some girl have it. Of course, Phantasma was not a happy breeding-ground, and I was no alpha-male; sublimation was the name of the game. On days like those, I had a game plan that worked: yell extra loud, read plenty of mathematics textbooks, and refrain from eating things like tacos. You know, things like that.
So why am I telling you this? Well, it will help to explain my behavior, for the story picks up on one of those days. The timing couldn't have been worse.
I awoke just before dawn and gazed, yawning, at the calendar over my dresser. My eyes widened. The yawn died in my throat. Sweat broke out on my brow. In big, cruel letters, the calendar informed me that it was JULY THE FIRST, 1907. I spun around to look out the window. It was hazy, dreamy, warm, and-horror of horrors!-the scent of roses drifted into my nostrils. I scarcely had time to scream, for suddenly it was upon me. I helplessly clutched my bedsheets as the transformation unfolded, like Dr. Jekyll turning into Mr. Hyde. I felt the tingling rush of testosterone pounding through my veins, felt my heart swelling with warmth, and soon everything looked faintly pink and a bit sparkly. When at last it was through, I rose from the bed with a devil-may-care smirk. I ran my fingers through my hair.
Buongiorno, ladies. Gregory De Rossi is awake.
"Calm down!" wailed my Dr. Gangle persona, pounding on my ribcage (for he was trapped). "Remember the plan!"
I went through my costume and makeup routine feeling like Don Juan, taking extra care with the razor; to top it all off I slapped on copious amounts of aftershave and cologne. I looked in the mirror. Ciao, bello.
"Alright, you're in costume now!" Dr. Gangle nagged. "Now act the part!"
I swaggered down to breakfast, head held high, and tossed myself into a chair like I owned the joint. There was a stack of waffes, surrounded by hash browns and sausage patties, and I partook generously of the waffles. No sausage for the Italian Stallion, unfortunately, on those days I must eat only plain, unexciting foods.
"So far, so good," Dr. Gangle said. "Now you only need to-"
What I needed to do, I never heard, for at that moment a new variable came strolling into the "Self-Control Equation", namely the-ahem-"Fabulous Miss Fleck". La mia stella brillante! Dr. Gangle's panicked cries were muffled as I looked her up and down, warmth spreading in my belly.
"Buongiorno, Signorina," I greeted her.
She examined me for a moment, her expression unreadable. If only subconciously, she noticed a change in me. "Buongiorno, Signor De Rossi," she replied at last, shaking her head as though brushing aside a notion.
As she began helping herself to the food, she drew in close and murmured in my ear, "I haven't seen a single reply in the Times. Have you?"
"Reply?"
"The advertisement, you silly dope."
"Ah, the advertisement," I chuckled suavely, winking as I drizzled syrup in all the little waffle holes. "I'm afraid I haven't got any replies either. Nada one. Pass the salt, Signorina."
She did, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Lovely day, this is," I continued, leaning back and flicking salt onto my hash browns. "Smells faintly of roses, did you notice? Ha, ha!"
"Gangle."
I turned and found myself looking at a rather bemused Ariel.
"You are acting..." She seemed to struggle for the right word. "Funny."
Dr. Gangle scolded me. "She's right, you know! Pull yourself together!"
"Acting funny," I repeated, forcing myself to look less affected. "Yes, yes, I am sorry. The heat...well, it's a long story. Any ideas other than advertisements?"
She seemed content with my excuse. "To be honest, I'm drawing blanks," she admitted. "But I'm certainly not giving up yet. Give me time."
Alf finally came in and sat down beside her, getting right down to the business of eating sausage, leaving his daughter to think. Her brow furrowed as she pensively sipped her coffee. The morning light sparkled in her eyes, those dark, dreamy eyes that made me...
"Stop!" wailed Dr. Gangle. "Don't stare at her. Don't think about her!"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she mused at length. "You know, I think I might-"
She stopped abruptly as Genevieve Pennysworth accosted her, most suddenly, from the behind.
"Arieeeel," she crooned, oblivious to the fact that she was smothering her beloved friend against her ample bosom. "The Fourth of July is coming up soon."
"I... know," gagged Ariel.
"Well, that's not all I came to say," giggled Genny, continuing to throttle her. "Damien and I are throwing an after-celebration on the waterfront. Swimming and fireworks, doesn't that sound so utterly too-too? You simply must come, or I'll be devastated. Will you?"
"S-Sure!"
"Marvelous. You're such a doll." Genny released her. "I'll expect you then, Arieeeel."
Alf chuckled as she went prancing off, leaving his daughter to massage her throat and re-adjust her hat. "She's something else, huh? What's she strong-arming you into now?"
"A Fourth of July celebration."
"From the looks of her invitation, I thought it was a football game. Hey, Ee-talian! What's the matter? Your face looks strange."
"M-My face?" I spluttered, finding myself under the sudden scrutiny of both Flecks. "I don't know what you mean."
They looked at each other and then at me with the exact same expression. The truth is, watching Ariel struggle against Genevieve had made me feel light-headed. Everything Ariel did today was making me feel light-headed.
"You look..." Alf struggled for the right word. "Funny."
Ariel nodded. "He says it's the heat."
I sighed.
)
(
)
Giovanni and Maria didn't come to Phantasma that day. I was glad they didn't. I was having a hard enough time pulling through with only Ariel to tempt me. It was a good thing I had such a busy job. Being alone with my thoughts on warm, dreamy, rose-scented days was never a good idea.
Good job! cheered Dr. Gangle.This is working out. You didn't stare at Ariel while she did acrobatics, you averted your eyes when she ate an oversized hot dog for lunch (that was painful), and you steadfastly refused to let your mind go to the gutter when she said (while doing a crossword puzzle), "Oh, Gangle, this long one here was quite hard, but I finally did it!" Well done!
Rehearsals were well underway for this excruciating song called "Bathing Beauty", performed by Meg Giry and her girls. During my downtime I watched. It wasn't that I enjoyed it, but I figured that it would act as a cleansing sorbet to my sad, sex-saturated mind. I lowered myself onto a bench, slightly out of their line of vision. I wearily looked at the rehearsal barn, examining the weatherbeaten grain of the wood. I sighed. A crumpled piece of paper went rolling by in the wind. One day I'd be dead and would feel better.
Bathing beauty, on the beach!
Bathing beauty, say hello!
What a cutie, what a peach!
Bathing beauty, watch her go!
Posing under her parasol,
She is watcha call a real spectacle!
Prim and proper with class and poise,
But she's got the boys apoplectical!
I'd quote more, but I like you too much. So there I was on that bench, a lady-less Don Juan, with only my rubber snakes to console me. Ha. Rubber snakes. I remembered the time Ariel tried to play a joke on me, and tug one of the snakes out. Little did she know it was sewn in, so she looked awfully goofy, that snake clutched in her fists as she pulled and pulled...
Bad thought! Bad, bad thought! Must think of new one!
"So, Signor Snake," I crooned to the rubber fellow on my left shoulder. "How are you this hot day?"
The thing flopped a little from my movements, but didn't talk, obviously.
"Ah, I understand. You would like to be somewhere cold, like under a rock. The heat is no good for a snake like you." I rubbed my eyes. "It is no good for me, either. I wish I could be under a cold rock."
Or getting laid. Ah! Bad thought!
"Gangle?"
I snapped out of it, and there was my lovely Ariel, standing before me, a question in her eyes. She looked nervous. I really hoped she hadn't witnessed me talking to the snakes on my jacket.
"Yes, Signorina?"
"I found something," she said breathlessly, and I could not tell whether she was happy or scared. "You'll come see it, won't you?"
Anything for my dreamy-eyed Signorina. Up I went, taking her little hand in mine, and as she led me along my heart was filled with conflicting emotions. Ah, walking hand in hand with her through the hot hubbub of the crowd was so nice. How could I ever be truly mad with her? In this moment I felt let in on some great secret of hers. She found something, and who was the first person she went running to with the discovery? Me. Speaking of which, what did she find, exactly?
"May I ask what we are going to see?"
"No, not yet," she said. "You'll see soon. It's at the base of the Ayrie."
My heart lurched. The base of the Ayrie? If she ended up showing me some dropped artifact of Mr. Y's, I would be very mad with her. Then I would cry myself to sleep for being mad with her.
When we reached the base of the towering Ayrie, Ariel guided me into the grassy area on the side that was currently in shadow, and dropped to her knees, feeling around like a trained dog. She tugged at some grass and gestured for me to come close.
"Here it is," she whispered. "Is anybody we know looking over at us?"
"No."
She grabbed a fistful of grass, gave a swift tug, and suddenly a whole patch of the ground moved! It was not real ground at all. It was a mat, and when Ariel pulled harder, it slipped away to reveal a trapdoor with a metal knob. I was amazed.
Ariel was so excited that she bounced on her heels a bit, making her feathers bob. "Isn't that dandy, Gangle?" she exclaimed. "A secret door! Right here beside the Ayrie! I bet Mr. Y keeps all sorts of secret things down here. Or perhaps it's a passage to somewhere!"
"Perhaps? You do not know? Er, haven't you opened it yet?"
She stopped in mid-bounce and blushed, lifting her eyes shyly. "Well, no, I haven't," she admitted. "I wanted to get you first."
"Ah, I see! Well, let's open it now."
She didn't move.
"Signorina?"
Ariel swallowed and blushed even deeper. "I wish you'd open it," she said, and then, very softly, she added, "I'm sort of...afraid to. Open the door, I mean."
The same Ariel Fleck who wanted to assume a secret identity and had installed me as her co-detective was afraid to open a door? I looked at her for a moment and saw that her lips were tight and her hands were clenched on her skirt. Why was she so afraid?
"Okay, Signorina, I will open it," I assented cautiously. "Coast is clear?"
It was, and I gave the knob a firm wrench. A dry, grinding scrape, a pop, and I pulled the door open. A cold draft of dirt-scented air rushed out, and when I leaned to look inside, all I saw was black and the rungs of a metal ladder, leading down, down, until the sight of them was obscured in darkness. The bottom seemed a long way down. I took a quick look around. People were largely ignoring us, supposing that we were going into some "employees only" area, leaving us more or less free to examine the trap-door openly.
"What do you suppose is down there?" Ariel breathed, fiddling with her hair.
I said I hadn't any idea, which betrayed my severe lack of practical imagination, but it was honest.
"It almost seems like a sewer," mused my companion. "But it smells too clean. Er, well, as clean as a dark, seemingly bottomless pit can be, I mean. Do you think we-ought to-go inside?"
"There's a ladder in there, so it stands to reason that it's perfectly safe, Signorina," I deduced.
She did not look convinced, and when I pointedly asked if she wanted me to go in, she swallowed and gave a shy little nod. Ah, Signorina could be so cute.
The coast was still clear, so I carefully lowered myself onto the first rung of the ladder. It was dry and cold; I would not slip. Perceiving this, I felt free to continue my descent, making certain that my frock coat would not trip me up. Down I went. Below me was the darkness, and above me was the white square of light, partly obscured by my Signorina's anxious face.
"Oh, Gangle," she called, her voice reverberating like a thousand Ariels. "Is it so very deep?"
I couldn't tell, so I reached into my trouser pocket, withdrew a penny, and dropped it down the hole. I counted two whole seconds before I heard a clatter. It was deep, but not so very deep, and at length I reached the bottom. A good ways above me, I could still make out Ariel.
"Can you see me, Signorina?" I called.
"Just barely!" she called back. "What is it like down there?"
"Dark, and..." I looked around. "Er, dark. But there is a tunnel. Yes, I feel the draft. There is a tunnel, perhaps a passage to somewhere down here! Come down, Signorina!"
"Oh!" she moaned. "Do you think I ought to?"
"Why not? I am down here already! Come down! It is like Alice in Wonderland! I have a waistcoat and a pocket-watch, so that makes me the White Rabbit! Come down, Alice!"
That made her laugh, and despite her apparent nervousness, she consented to come down. I talked her through it with more "Alice" quotations.
"Ah, Alice!" I cried, watching her descend. "There is a mushroom down here that says EAT ME! What should I do?"
Her climbing was still slow and tense, but her voice was chirpy. "Well, Signor, the left side will make you bigger, and the right smaller! Mind you take little nibbles! If you become too big, you'll knock me right out of the park!"
That I would. Ah! Bad thought! Bad, bad, very bad thought!
"Ah, the Cheshire Cat!" I cried, forcing the bad thought away. "I see his grin in the darkness!"
"That's nothing to worry about! Just ignore him. Oh, I'm almost at the bottom now. I'm about to win the Caucus Race!"
And with a little hop and a squeaking of her leg brace, Ariel was off the ladder and shuffling beside me. It was very dark. The little bit of light coming from the top illuminated the ladder rungs, Ariel's hair, a bit of her cheek. No more.
"Ah, but no one wins the Caucus Race, Signorina. It's a big circle!"
There was a shuffling, and then I felt her press against me, the chuckle in her chest something I could feel. "On the contrary, dear Gangle," she corrected, ever the literary professor, "Everyone wins and recieves a piece of candy-a comfit to be precise-for their trouble."
"Ah."
So there we were, Ariel and I, together in the strange darkness of that secret passage, unseeing, but hearing and feeling more intensely than we ever had before. Opposite the ladder I could feel the windy emptiness of the passage. Where it led, how far beneath the earth it would lead you, where you would end up, I could not say, and frankly, the prospect of finding out was chilling. It felt like an unfriendly tunnel.
Ariel felt it too. "I want to know where it leads," she said, still against me. "But I'm too scared to find out. Maybe if we go in just a little bit?"
It was perfectly black down there, so black that I felt that if I were to reach out, I could grab the dark like a piece of black velvet. As such, I could barely make an accurate guess of how much distance I was covering as Ariel and I walked into the tunnel. At one point the ground seemed to slope and become more rocky. The air was colder, and smelled of thawing ice and ancient rock. There was no sound, scarcely even the feeling of circulating air; thus, despite the tunnel's generous size, it felt profoundly claustrophobic, like a great casket of earth. It felt as though it went on for a long time. I cautiously looked behind me. I could just barely see the rungs of the ladder.
"This place would be a lot less intimidating with a lamp," I mused aloud, and my voice echoed down the long, long passage. "As it is now, I don't think we should go any further without one, Signorina."
"Indeed," she agreed. "I don't like this place. Let's go back."
We turned around and went back, until the square light of day was above our heads once more. All we had to do was make the climb back up.
"It's like Heaven and Hell, this is," commented Ariel softly, looking from the light to the tunnel. "And here we are in the midst of it. A junction of sorts."
The strange setting and her dark painted eyes and lips aided in the illusion that she was some underworld sage of sorts, making a profound statement. I asked her what she meant.
"Well, to our left, on a dark downward slope, is Hell." She looked at it gravely, and then she looked up the ladder, and her face was illuminated by the sun. "And to our right, above us, is Heaven, a place we can reach only with careful effort. But how much better and easier to climb it is, when we have a Saviour!"
Here she looked at me. I did not know what to say.
"Erm, Gangle?" she said, picking at the lace on her sleeve. "May I ask you something?"
"What?"
She stopped picking, took a breath, and murmured, "Are you and that Maria lady going to get married?"
The question threw me completely off guard. How in the world did she...?
She seemed to sense my shock and hastened to explain, rather gloomily, "I was in my Aviary, and I saw you kiss her when your brother went for food."
I was beginning to think there was nothing I could keep secret from her. Standing there, I felt ashamed and torn, looking into her downcast eyes, and my previous night's petting-fest with Maria was suddenly contemptible to my senses. Despite everything that annoyed me about her, I was still in love-very much in love in Ariel.
"I am not sure if I want to marry her," I admitted. "It has been a very long time since we were last together. Circumstances have changed. We're different people. Ten years can do a lot to a person."
She blinked a bit and looked down, her demeanor subdued. "Oh."
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing...too wrong. It's just surprising. Er, not surprising that you would want to be married. or that it would happen, but..." she seemed to struggle for a moment, and than she blurted, "But if you got married, you'd have to move away, and...I like you."
In the darkness, what little I could see of her face was so pained that I hugged her, and inside of me there was a thrill of tenderness. She liked me, enough that she didn't want me to leave!
"I don't want you to ever leave me," she murmured into my jacket. "But I know that someday you must."
An emotional sort of determination flared in my heart. "I won't," I declared. "And even if I had to leave, I would visit you, Signorina. You are so precious to me. How could you think I'd go away and forget you altogether?"
She hugged me harder, and her voice grew even frailer. "I don't know. The thought just scares me."
If it had not been a warm, dreamy, rose-scented day in July, I would not have done what I did next. I probably shouldn't have done it, but what's done is done, and at the time I was too emotional to keep myself in check.
In that warm darkness, I smoothed her cheek, leaned in, and pressed my mouth against her own. For a truly wonderful couple of seconds, Ariel and I shared a sweet kiss, and then we parted. I couldn't believe myself. Judging by Ariel's face, she couldn't believe it either. She looked at me, almost dumbfounded, her cheeks red and a trembling hand moving to her mouth. I panicked.
"Ah, Signorina!" I cried, concocting a hasty lie. "I was...going to, ah, kiss your forehead...but I couldn't see very good in the dark, and I...ah...kissed you there instead. I'm sorry, very sorry..."
"N-No, no, don't apologize, it's quite f-fine," stammered Ariel in an unusually high pitch, and she felt her lips as though they'd been scorched. "Don't think anything of it at all. I'm not...offended, or anything, I actually..."
"You actually what?"
"Nothing." She turned to the ladder. "Let's go back up."
We did. As I climbed, Dr. Gangle and Mr. De Rossi started yammering, most excitedly:
Very nice, pal! (cheered De Rossi) Very nice! Right on the lips!
Oh, you are unsatiable! (mourned Gangle) You've likely embarrassed her! What must she be thinking of you?
Thoughts of love, hopefully! (said De Rossi smugly) Once she gets a taste of Italy, she won't stand for an Opera Ghost!
My heart pounded drunkenly with love, as though my blood had suddenly been replaced by wine. Ariel! On my lips! I licked them and tasted her lipstick. Magnifica! As I climbed towards the light, the whole world was a song, and the refrain was Ariel, Ariel, Ariel! I wanted her with a desire that almost made me sigh aloud. And then the light of day burned my eyes. I hauled myself out of the tunnel and onto the cool grass of the Ayrie's base.
Ariel was already out, on her feet, her cheeks pink and her mouth now devoid of lipstick. Now in the daylight, my embarrassment returned, but I could not resist it being intermingled with love, and when I approached my shy little virgin Signorina, my blood raced with lust.
She looked right into my eyes. She was blushing, but her face was calm, and her eyes were curious, sparkly, searching. Out of her pocket came a handkerchief, which she used to dab my lips.
"You've got...lipstick...on them," she whispered.
When she was through she handed me the hanky. It was crisp, white linen, bordered with scalloped lace, and in the midst of this perfect whiteness was the vivid red stain of her lipstick.
"I don't need it back," she said, and then she turned and hurried off to her Aviary, leaving me breathless, holding that stained hanky like a champion knight who had been given his maiden's colors. I brought it to my face and inhaled. It smelled just like her. Oh, Ariel! I watched her disappear around the corner of the funhouse and was filled with a fiery madness, the memory of her soft lips and innocent blush so strong that I could almost feel them again.
I was so in love that I didn't know what to do.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack and a thunderous boom, followed by the sound of sizzling. The volcano that went off each day at three had just erupted. I turned around and looked at it. People laughed and pointed and how realistic it was, from the scorched, crumbly sides, to the glowing lava, to the lazy way it dribbled down the sides and solidified in little hot pools.
An erupting volcano is innocent enough, but it gave me an idea. I sighed. Of course, that was always an option.
)
(
)
Some time later, in my little room, I reclined back onto my pillow with great satisfaction, Ariel's hanky next to my head and a much less cherished one lying, defiled, on the floor. I lay for a moment in relative calm, and then I pointed a trembling finger at the calendar.
The joke's on you, warm, dreamy, rose-scented July the first! I told it mentally. The day is nearly over, and I haven't fathered any illegitimate children! That means I win!
And then the thought flashed across my mind like a banner being pulled by an aeroplane: You still have to sit under the stars with her tonight. And she'll have had time to think that kiss over, bozo.
Oof! My mind had a definite point there, but all at once I remembered the kiss. I closed my eyes. There we were in the darkness, hearts pounding. There was her soft little face, the delicious sensation of warm, wet lips meeting...
Mamma mia! I groped around for another unloved hanky and let the fantasy unwind.
)
(
)
Night fell, and with the cool breeze came a calmness that effectively put a damper on my damn-near-uncontrollable lust. The sky slowly filled with stars. The park was emptied of its last few stragglers. The distant lights of Luna Park gleamed on the horizon like a city of fire. I was able to think rationally again. Unfortunately in my case, Rationally returned, bringing his good friends Guilt and Fear along for the ride. Also present were Dr. Gangle and Mr. De Rossi.
Well, (intoned Gangle gloomily) Here's where you face up to your actions. Ariel would scarcely be blamed if she were to feel nervous or upset about you kissig her.
She said she wasn't offended! (growled De Rossi) What more do you want?
Supposing she told her father...? (suggested Gangle, his imaginary eyebrows raised)
Only one way to find out, I told myself grimly as Fleck Manor's door came into sight. When I knocked, Alf yelled at me to come right in. The man was on the parlor couch, wrapped in that hideous throw, writing in his journal and nursing a cup of steaming tea.
"I may as well tell you immediately," he said, not looking up from his writing, "That Ariel is not here. She's in the Ayrie. Shouldn't be back until late."
"The Ayrie?" I spat. "What does Mr. Y want with her?"
I thought my tone was too bitter even while I was saying the words, and Alf seemed to feel it. He looked up from his writing, a mildly offended wrinkle in his brow.
"I did sort of spit that out, didn't I?" I hastened to apologize. "My apologies. I didn't intend to."
Still looking wary, Alf leaned heavily over and took a sealed envelope from the nearby lamp desk, which he extended to me.
"Mr. Y enjoyed her singing so much that he wishes to teach her that aria he wrote," he explained, and once I took the envelope he returned immediately to his writing. "She told me to give you this note."
Alf's manner made it clear that he didn't desire any further conversation, and so we exchanged gruff good evenings, and I left Fleck Manor with Signorina's note. It said:
Gangle!
Mr. Y wants to teach me to sing; he just sent for me to come to the Ayrie. Sorry to leave you alone tonight, especially after we missed each other the previous night, but I can't very well refuse Mr. Y, can I? Wish me luck, for I get very intimidated at the thought of singing for a man with such musical standards as Mr. Y.
As ever, Ariel.
PS: And don't worry another moment about what happened in the tunnel. We all make silly mstakes. We'll just forget all about it.
Perhaps it was only my state of mind, but something about the way she phrased that letter made me so angry that I chucked it right into a nearby trashcan and practically threw myself onto the bench. I tried to calm down by looking at the stars. In my peripheral vision, however, I couldn't help but notice the glowing eyes of the Ayrie. Tonight, unlike previous nights, Mr. Y (the Opera Ghost, I was convinced) would not be spending a sleepness night composing; he would be making music with Ariel, his secret admirer. Me? I'd be stewing on this bench.
Fuck it, I said to myself savagely, and refused to do any such thing. Rather, I marched straight to bed and stewed there instead.
(Gangle stops here for now.)
Mr. Whittington's notebook was beginning to resemble a small dictionary, what with all the notes, but he thanked Mr. De Rossi and headed home with Rodger.
"Come in for some tea, Rodger?" he asked politely when they reached the door, but Rodger was not listening. He was pointing to a 1922 Ford Sedan, canary-yellow, that was parked on the curb.
"Say!" he cried. "That's Bernie's car. What's she doing down this way?"
Their questions were answered by the sudden opening of Mr. Whittington's door. There, beaming and radiant, was Bernice herself.
"Well, how d'ye do, Jay?" she gushed. "Rog told me ya had that Ariel lady livin' he-uh, and I thought I'd come see 'er! Why didn't ya tell me she was wearin' my old clothes?"
The men entered amid good-natured babbling of this sort, feeling jarred by Bernice's unexpected appearance. On the couch, looking faintly overwhelmed, was Miss Fleck, who shot Mr. Whittington a significant, pleading glance.
"So you've made Miss Fleck's aquaintance, Bernice?" said Mr. Whittington pleasantly, sitting beside her in response.
"Uh-huh!" Bernice patted Rodger on the back and sat with him at the table. "And she's so cute! Say, Miss Fleck, this he-uh is my boyfriend Rodger. You remembah him?"
"Indeed," replied Ariel. "Rodger Garland. Tried to get a story out of me once. The penalty? A rock to the right temple."
Rodger swallowed nervously, but Bernice took it all as a lark.
"Ha! Oh, I remember that. Yes, I do. I was mad about it, but Rog can be rather aggravating, can't he? Say, Jay, doesn't she have such swell hair? I wish I could take her to get a permanent wave put in it. It would look topping in such black hair as that. Not today, but how about soon? Hmm?"
"A permanent wave?" quavered Ariel cautiously.
"Well, it's not permanant forevah, but it would be so pretty. Her face and jaw have such gorgeous lines! It's all about lines anymore. Oh, please say yes, I'll pay for it all myself. And she could use some rouge and lipstick. And..."
And so it was the the afternoon was spent, not with tea, but with grand plans of makeovers a la Bernice.
Notes From Authoress / What you Have To Look Forward To Next Week / CONTEST
1. The title of next week's installment is "One Armed Angel, Part 2". Just like in your favorite Victorian-era romantic sitcom, hunchbacked, underdog Alf can't get the girl (Polly) without first fufilling the conditions of her dad, who is kind of an ass. Our tattooed hero, aided by his other outcast friends, need money, and fast! How will they do it?
2. I had a nice Thanksgiving at my aunt's house. I got to look at family relics. One was a Victorian-era autograph album, kept by my great-great grandma in 1885. The other was my great (x5) grandpa's geography textbook, which he used at school in 1808. Reading it, I learned that New Jersey's population was about 12, 500 at the time. XD The only bad part of the night was when this little fucker dog bit me. It didn't break my skin or make me bleed, but still! The arrogance!