A Night at the Ariston Baths

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A Night at the Ariston Baths Page 3

by Michael Murphy


  “What in the world are you doing out here at such an early hour?” Theodore asked.

  “I couldn’t be this close to you and not see you,” Martin explained as he started walking along with Theodore.

  “Are you really going to walk with me to work?”

  “Absolutely,” Martin told him.

  “Thank you,” Theodore offered with gratitude.

  “Hey, I know my Teddy.”

  They walked in silence for a moment before Theodore suddenly asked, “Can I ask—”

  “Anything,” Martin interrupted to answer before Theodore could even get the words out.

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  “Tell me… about the others… the others like us in New York. You said you’ve been with them?”

  “Yes, I have,” he answered with no hesitation.

  “And what were they like?”

  “They weren’t you,” Martin answered, which immediately placed a huge smile on Theodore’s face.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Martin confirmed.

  The only sound Theodore heard was the frozen snow crunching under their boots.

  “Were you serious yesterday when you mentioned the possibility of a job with your company?”

  “Very, very much so. I can’t make any guarantees of course, because I don’t make the hiring decisions, but I have heard my boss talk repeatedly about how difficult this position has been for him to fill.”

  “Do you really think it’s something I could do?” Theodore asked.

  “With no doubts whatsoever.”

  “If I came to New York, where would I stay?”

  “There are always rooms available in the house where I stay.”

  “But you don’t have much space, as I recall from your letters.”

  “That’s true, but there is nothing that says you would have to live there. You could find a bigger room elsewhere that better suited your needs.”

  “You’d help me do that?” Theodore asked.

  “Of course. The idea of having you in New York with me is beyond my wildest dreams. Are you really thinking about doing this?”

  “Yes, I must admit the thought has been running through my mind all night. I wanted to talk to you last night and ask you these questions.”

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t be together,” Martin said. “But I’ll answer anything now.”

  Another minute passed without conversation.

  Theodore decided to broach a difficult subject. “Did your mother give you any difficulty last evening?”

  “About what? My return trip to New York, or about finding a woman to marry?”

  “I was thinking about your return trip to New York.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “Did she get you to change your mind?” Theodore asked hopefully.

  “No. I don’t have any flexibility. I really must leave tomorrow to return. And I’m on the 6:00 a.m. train, so I have a very early departure. The trip to New York takes most of the day.”

  “Do you have to change trains anywhere along the way?” Theodore asked.

  “The 6:00 a.m. train doesn’t require a change. Later trains do need a transfer somewhere along the line. Do you think you might be taking the trip sometime soon?” Martin asked with a smile on his face.

  “I would like to. Yes, very much so.”

  “Let’s plan for you to do it—soon. I can’t guarantee how long the position I was talking about might be open. It would be better to act sooner rather than later. When do you think you might want to leave?”

  “I don’t know. If I could, I’d go with you tomorrow.”

  “That would be fantastic!” Martin shouted with a small leap into the air.

  “But I don’t see how I can do that. I can’t just walk away from Mr. Hoffman. He’s been good to me—remember that Christmas bonus he gave me just the day before yesterday.”

  “So you’d have the cash to buy your ticket and make the move to New York. Just remember that he didn’t buy you—he only rents your abilities for a set number of hours per week. You are not indentured to him. The only one you are indentured to is yourself. You got that?” Martin earnestly demanded.

  Theodore nodded. When he spoke, it was to address the issue of money.

  “I have the money. No problem with that. For nearly three years, I haven’t had any significant expenses, so I’ve been able to save most of what I’ve earned. I’ve offered my mother some money for my room and board, of course, but she hasn’t wanted to take my money.”

  By that point, their conversation drew to a close because they had arrived at the store, and it was time for Theodore to start his workday. Martin started the return trek to his house while Theodore went inside the store to get set up for the day. Theodore couldn’t see his own face, but he knew that in his mind he was grieving the lost time with his best friend. It had been so long since he’d seen Martin. The thought of having to give up time with Martin was painful.

  Theodore had a rough idea of how much business they were likely to have that day, and he was not looking forward to a slow day.

  Once he had the store open, he was surprised to see Mr. Hoffman arrive accompanied by a young man no more than Theodore’s age. Theodore dealt with the few customers they had during the first hour of business while he surreptitiously watched Mr. Hoffman give the young, as yet unidentified man, a tour of the entire store. In all the time he’d worked there, Theodore could not remember Mr. Hoffman giving anyone a tour of the store, especially not one in such extreme detail. The two had slowly made their way around, talking over nearly every item of merchandise they carried. Whoever this man was, he was special somehow to rank such individual attention.

  When Theodore finished dealing with the waiting customers, Mr. Hoffman brought the young man over to him.

  “Ah, Theodore,” Mr. Hoffman greeted him in an unusual tone. He almost sounded as if he was surprised to see Theodore standing there behind the counter.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Theodore, I’d like to introduce my nephew to you. Micah, this is Theodore, my clerk. Theodore, this is my sister’s son, Micah.”

  The two shook hands formally.

  “Good morning, Micah. Are you visiting for the holidays?”

  “No,” Micah said.

  Theodore arched his eyebrow at the one-word answer. In a place where people were very talkative he was unaccustomed to such a terse reply to a question. “Welcome,” Theodore said, attempting to project a believable welcome. “What brings you to town if not the holidays?” he asked.

  Before Micah could respond or not, Mr. Hoffman volunteered the information. “Micah has come here from Philadelphia to learn the merchant trade.”

  “Oh, I see,” Theodore said. “Well, you will be learning from the best. Mr. Hoffman has run this establishment quite successfully for many years.”

  “He is my uncle, so I am well aware of what he does for a living.”

  “Micah,” Mr. Hoffman said in a scolding tone. “Treat everyone the way you want to be treated.”

  “Why would I want to do such a thing? We are not all equal.”

  “Micah, we have a lot of work ahead of us. A successful merchant is one who can connect with his customers, get to know them, learn what they want and need.”

  “Preposterous,” Micah said. “A successful merchant is one who knows how to turn a profit from every transaction.”

  “Oh, Micah, you have much to learn. Being a successful merchant is more than just learning a few fancy theories from a textbook. Come, we will talk upstairs. Theodore, can you handle things while we talk?”

  “Of course, sir.” Theodore was disappointed because he was quite enjoying the experience of watching the two men talk.

  Mr. Hoffman took his nephew back upstairs into their apartment and, for the first time that Theodore could remember, closed the door that separated the store from their living space. In fact, he was partially surprised that the
re was a door since he’d never seen one in evidence. The door remained closed, with Mr. Hoffman and his nephew behind it, for the remainder of the morning.

  Perhaps it was most noticeable to Theodore because he had nothing to do. Business was extraordinarily slow that day, far worse than he had anticipated. He was a hard worker and hated to be bored. He would much rather be busy, because he found that time at work passed much more easily when he was busy and seemed to drag interminably when he had nothing to do. Add to that a dollop of mystery, and Theodore was positively twitchy.

  At precisely five minutes to twelve, Theodore looked up at the sound of the bell on the front door of the store, grateful for something to divert his attention from the sheer boredom that had set in. Spotting Martin, Theodore had something to put a smile on his face—something that hadn’t happened since—well, since he’d last seen Martin.

  “So what’s the verdict?”

  “About what?”

  “Lunch? Will the boss let you take an extra half hour to have lunch with me?”

  “I haven’t been able to ask him,” Theodore answered, bitterly disappointed.

  “Where is he, anyway?” Martin asked. “I didn’t think he ever left the store.”

  “He doesn’t. He’s been upstairs for hours with his nephew, Micah.”

  “Nephew?”

  “Visiting for the holidays, I thought, but there’s something more I don’t fully understand yet. He’s not very communicative,” Theodore explained.

  “Is he at least cute?” Martin asked with a sly smile.

  “No… I don’t… no. How should I know?” Theodore asked, exasperated with the question.

  “You’ve got a pulse, don’t you?”

  “Yes, what kind of stupid question is that?”

  “Well, then, you should be able to tell if a man is attractive or not.”

  “I don’t know if he’s attractive because he is rude beyond reason. Perhaps if he wasn’t such an ass, I might look at him in that way, but I haven’t bothered. He’s an odious little man.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Martin stated, with a hint of a smile on his face.

  “And they’ve had the door between the store and their living space closed,” Theodore stated, only to get a blank stare back from Martin.

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t understand….”

  “Clearly,” Martin agreed.

  “That door has never once been closed in all the time I’ve worked here. And even before that, can you think of a time when we were growing up when that door was ever closed?”

  “I guess I never paid any attention,” Martin responded in full honesty.

  “Sorry I won’t be able to go to lunch with you,” Theodore sighed.

  “But they have to give you a break to eat, don’t they?”

  “I always eat at noon, and while I eat, Mr. Hoffman covers the counter. All I can do is assume he’ll pop down here any second now to take over so I can go upstairs to eat.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Martin asked.

  “If he doesn’t, I don’t know. And I am famished today. I guess it was because we ate so much yesterday. I didn’t eat anything this morning, but I’m certainly hungry now.”

  Martin took off his coat and sat down on one of the stools behind the counter beside Theodore, waiting with him. Ten minutes passed. Ten additional minutes passed. Finally, at the thirty-minute point, Martin rose, pulled on his coat, and announced, “I’m going to get something to bring back to you. You need to eat.”

  Theodore wanted to protest, but he really was hungry, so he didn’t object when Martin headed out in search of food. Fifteen minutes later, Martin was back with something in hand that smelled absolutely heavenly. The store was still dead quiet, so Martin unpacked the items he’d brought onto the counter.

  “I’ve never eaten at the counter before. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat at the counter.”

  “Seems only fair since you’ve never seen the door closed either. Sit. Eat,” Martin ordered.

  His hunger overcame his objections. Theodore thoroughly enjoyed the fried chicken and biscuits Martin had brought. The quietness of the day allowed the two of them to sit and talk undisturbed for close to an hour, by which point their food was finished and the debris cleared away, returning the counter to a state of readiness for the shoppers, who so far had not materialized that day.

  Finally, at a few minutes past two in the afternoon, the door to the apartment upstairs opened, and Mr. Hoffman hurried down the stairs seemingly flustered or distracted or both.

  “Theodore,” he said without preamble, “I’m so sorry. I lost all track of time. You must be starving.”

  “Martin brought me something.”

  “He was very hungry,” Martin said, as if to reinforce the notion that Mr. Hoffman had neglected Theodore. “I couldn’t let him starve.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mr. Hoffman apologized once again, although it wasn’t at all clear to whom he was apologizing, since he had his eyes cast downward while he spoke.

  “Theodore tells me your nephew is visiting. Where is he in from?” Martin asked.

  “Philadelphia,” Mr. Hoffman answered, with the same brevity that Micah had used earlier. Theodore nearly snorted since many days Mr. Hoffman talked nearly incessantly, whether there were customers present or not. It seemed like a day for odd behavior.

  And just to round out the odd behavior, Mr. Hoffman turned to Theodore and said, “Has business been manageable today?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s actually been dreadfully quiet.”

  He nodded, paused for a moment, and then said, “With business so slow and because you never got your lunch or a break, and since your friend is home for the holidays, why don’t you call it a day and go on home—or out to do something… fun.”

  “Terrific!” Martin acknowledged with delight.

  Mr. Hoffman had never done that either. He was as much of a stickler for a man working his full ten hours as Mr. Scrooge had been in Mr. Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. Theodore was about to protest when Mr. Hoffman abruptly said, “And of course you’ll be paid for the full day as if you worked your normal hours.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Hoffman,” Martin acknowledged with a big smile.

  Theodore was perplexed. He removed his store apron, hung it in its usual spot, and pulled on his jacket.

  “Good day, then, Mr. Hoffman,” Theodore wished him as they departed.

  Chapter Five—Coffee

  OUT ON the street, the cold, biting wind sucked the breath out of both Martin and Theodore. They turned up their coat collars and huddled closer together to try to find some respite from the wind.

  “Brr,” Martin stated the obvious. “Come,” he ordered, heading off toward the local restaurant.

  “I think they’re finished with lunch,” Theodore protested. “And besides, I ate what you brought to me.”

  “Hush. Come along now.”

  Theodore followed Martin the short distance to the restaurant. As Theodore had anticipated, they had finished serving lunch and were closed until dinner service began at five. Martin, though, was able to sweet talk just about anyone out of anything, especially when it involved a woman—something Theodore had never entirely understood.

  “It’s so very, very cold out there,” he explained to the owner. “Would you terribly mind if we just sat here for a few minutes, working up our gumption to make the long trek home? We promise to be as quiet as two church mice and not interrupt your rest.”

  “Rest? What rest? I work in the kitchen between lunch and dinner trying to get everything ready for the dinner rush.” Martin’s charm seemed to be as gifted as ever, and the owner brought them each a cup of coffee and a piece of fresh pie before she retired to her work in the kitchen.

  “Alone at last,” Martin said, batting his eyelashes scandalously.

  “Stop that,” Theodore whispered. “We’re in public. Behave yourself.”

  “What public? T
here’s hardly anyone out and about today. It’s almost as if the wind blew into town and blew them all out. This pie is delicious,” he noted as he took a bite of his, making a point of doing something obscene with his tongue and the fork in the process.

  “You are positively evil today,” Theodore scolded. “And don’t forget I tended to your needs yesterday, but no one tended to mine.”

  “I could take care of that right now,” Martin volunteered with a hint of mirth.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Theodore objected.

  “Calm yourself,” he assured Theodore. “I was just joking with you.”

  “I should hope so.” Theodore was relieved Martin wasn’t crazy enough to try something such as that. Prior to his departure for the city close to three years earlier, Martin would have reacted in the same manner, but Theodore could see that his time in the big city had made him more relaxed.

  The two spent a couple of hours simply enjoying each other’s company. They stayed significantly longer than either had anticipated, but finally, as the sunlight that had earlier in the day provided a hint of warmth started to disappear, they decided it was time to start the trek home.

  “This has been an unexpected joy,” Theodore said, smiling at Martin as they pulled on their jackets.

  “I completely agree.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Theodore confessed with a sigh.

  “I know, Teddy. I know. That’s mostly why I’m here right now.”

  Partly because of the cold, and partly because Theodore didn’t want to spoil the pleasant feeling from their afternoon together, they were largely silent on the walk home. His time with Martin was such a breath of fresh air in his otherwise predictable life. Theodore was so confused. Why was he feeling so dejected when the best thing that had happened to him all year was right before his eyes?

 

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