A Night at the Ariston Baths

by Michael Murphy

It was a brisk walk. They wasted no time but stepped lively all the way from the restaurant to the place where Martin veered off to go to his parents’ home. By that point, the sun was down, so Theodore took a chance and gave Martin a big hug and even went so far as to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Can you come in?” Martin inquired.

  “My mother will be holding dinner for me. I need to get home.”

  “Will I see you before I leave in the morning?”

  “I hope so,” Theodore readily agreed. “You’re on the 6:00 a.m. train?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time will you leave the house to head into town?”

  “Most likely about five.”

  “I’ll be here and walk with you.”

  “What? No. That’s entirely too early for you. You need your rest.”

  “I need you more than I need rest,” Theodore admitted shyly, being more honest with Martin than he could be with any other person on the planet.

  They shared one more quick kiss before Martin headed toward the house and Theodore walked on to his own.

  “Don’t be late!” Martin called over his shoulder.

  “Have you ever known me to be late for anything in my entire life?” Theodore called back.

  “True. Just don’t start a new tradition tomorrow of all mornings,” he encouraged.

  AT FIVE the next morning when Martin reached the end of his father’s road, he found Theodore already waiting for him. If they had thought the previous day cold, that was nothing compared to the arctic blast that had settled on their valley overnight.

  The road that had been rutted and muddy in places the previous few days had frozen over completely overnight and was somewhat treacherous. When they weren’t tripping over ruts, they were sliding on the ice hidden by the darkness of the predawn hours. They moved with deliberate speed to get to the train station and arrived with plenty of time to spare.

  While Martin checked with the station manager to see if the train was on time, Theodore sat in the empty waiting area and tried to tell himself he was happy to have had at least a little while with Martin. But he wasn’t feeling happy. He wanted to be positive and tell Martin how much he appreciated his returning all the way home to rural Pennsylvania. But he didn’t know if he could manage to do that convincingly. He felt rather dejected at the prospect of having his best friend leave so soon. It could be another year before he saw him again, which was a lifetime. Time in which Martin was experiencing a dramatically different life, growing further and further away from Theodore who was living the same life he always had. Theodore feared that the next time he saw Martin, his friend would be less recognizable and would have less interest in him. He could picture each visit as Martin being more and more of a stranger to him, just someone he used to know. And this saddened him greatly. But he wanted to hide that until he could be alone later.

  “Is the train on time?” Theodore asked when Martin sat beside him.

  He got his answer when he heard the train whistle off in the distance.

  “I guess it is,” Theodore said with a sigh.

  “Cheer up, Teddy.”

  “You always could read me so well, couldn’t you?” Theodore asked.

  “You never made it all that difficult,” Martin said.

  The huge locomotive made a lot of noise as it pulled to a stop alongside the station platform at 5:57 a.m. They shared a quick but sad hug.

  “I guess this is it,” Theodore said.

  “For now. Be positive, though,” Martin said. “We’ll see each other again soon. I’m sure of it.”

  Theodore watched Martin climb aboard the train and take a seat at a window just above his location. He waited on the open platform so he could wave farewell. At one minute past six, the train whistle blew once again, only this time to indicate the departure. Theodore heard the conductor call, “All aboard!” in a clear, loud voice that was somehow heard above the noise of the engine, and then the train slowly started to move. Waving enthusiastically, Theodore shouted his farewell to Martin as he stood and watched, listening to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the train wheels on the steel rails as it rushed out of sight down the tracks on its way to the great city of New York.

  Chapter Six—Micah

  WITH AN abundance of time before he was due to start work at eight, Theodore did something he had never done before: he indulged himself by going to the restaurant where he and Martin had drunk coffee the previous afternoon and treating himself to breakfast. He bought a newspaper, one of the papers brought in by the morning train, and carried it along to the restaurant so he could read the news of the world while he enjoyed his morning repast.

  A combination of his appetite and the efficiency of the restaurant kitchen had him fed, paid, and ready to depart for work at seven. Unfortunately that left yet another hour before his official starting time. He was tempted to sit and enjoy another cup of coffee, but the coffee was not all that great, and he had finished reading everything in the newspaper of even the remotest interest.

  Given the situation, and his need to do something other than sit in order to take his mind off how much he missed Martin, Theodore decided to head to Hoffman’s Store. He was sure he could dust shelves or sweep the floor or any of a hundred other things that most likely needed to be done. If nothing else, he could polish the counter. They’d received a new wood wax in a shipment earlier that week, and he’d been looking forward to seeing if it lived up to the advertising claims.

  Using the key Mr. Hoffman had given him, Theodore let himself into the dark, cold store. Raising the shades let in the morning light, and lighting a fire in the stove started to slowly chase some of the chill from the air. He decided to keep his coat on until the store warmed up a little more.

  Theodore tied his apron in place and set to polishing the counter. Much to his surprise, the product worked remarkably well and left the counter looking shiny and significantly newer than it actually was. The counter was most likely older than Theodore, so it was gratifying to see it could be made to look so crisp and new with just a little effort.

  With the air in the store starting to feel a touch warmer, he shed his jacket and decided to sweep and mop one aisle of the store. He would have done all of it, but he needed it to be dry by the time the first customers arrived that morning. He anticipated the day would be busier than the previous one had been. It was Saturday, after all, and most of the farmers came to town on Saturday, holiday or no holiday.

  “You there,” he heard a grating voice address him.

  Turning, he spotted Mr. Hoffman’s nephew. Theodore decided to make an attempt at friendliness. “Oh, good morning, Micah. How are you this fine day?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Mopping.” Theodore decided to adopt Micah’s approach of answering questions with minimal words.

  “I can see that,” he stated in a clearly exasperated voice. “Why?”

  “Because the floor is dirty.”

  “No, you dolt. Why are you doing it now? You don’t start work until eight. It’s only seven thirty. Your responsibilities commence at eight o’clock, not before. You will not be compensated for this unauthorized violation of your prescribed work schedule.”

  Theodore stared at him. Biting back at least half a dozen very direct and confrontational responses, Theodore simply said, “Such matters are of no concern to you.”

  Micah huffed, turned, and stomped back up the stairs. Theodore shook his head in bafflement. Very strange. Very strange indeed.

  As he continued his cleaning in the store, Theodore heard voices raised in the apartment above. The voices were muffled, so he couldn’t make out what was said, but it was clear they were louder than normal. A door slammed, another sound foreign to the Hoffman household.

  A moment later, another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Theodore was relieved to see Mr. Hoffman.

  “Good morning, sir,” he greeted his boss in a pleasant and cheery tone.


  Hoffman seemed distracted and agitated. It was only after a moment’s consideration that he returned Theodore’s greeting.

  “You’re ambitious this morning.”

  “I was in town very early to accompany Martin to the train station, so I decided to just come in to work and take care of a few of the things that I know both you and I hate doing, but that really needed to be done.”

  Hoffman looked down at the clean floor in the aisle Theodore had just finished, and he nodded in approval.

  “Very good.”

  “Check the counter,” Theodore directed proudly.

  Hoffman didn’t understand at first, so Theodore repeated, “The counter. Go take a look at it.”

  Mr. Hoffman wasn’t able to hide his surprise and excitement when he saw what Theodore had achieved. “Oh my! This counter hasn’t looked this good in… well, at least a decade, if not longer. You did this?”

  “Yes, sir. I wanted to test that new wood cleaner and wax we received in Monday’s shipment. As you can see, it worked remarkably well, so we can recommend it to our customers. And we can point to the counter as evidence of how well it works. Even people who didn’t come in to buy such a thing will take a look at the counter and might consider buying the product that did that.”

  Hoffman nodded quietly as he ran his hands across the shiny counter. When he said nothing more but kept slowly rubbing his counter, Theodore put away the broom and dumped the bucket of dirty water out back before returning to unlock the door and prepare for the arrival of their customers.

  He was surprised to return to the counter and find Mr. Hoffman still running his hand over the now shiny surface.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Hoffman?” Theodore asked.

  “What? Oh, yes. Just thinking.”

  “Anything I can help you with, sir?”

  “There,” he said with a smile directed toward Theodore. “That’s what I need to teach Micah. That attitude. That positive, can-do attitude.” He sighed. “I just don’t know if I can.”

  “I think I understand, sir. Please let me know if I can help. I don’t know what I can do, but I’d be glad to try if you would like some assistance. May I ask you, sir, why Micah is your responsibility?”

  “Micah has been… well, a bit of a problem. I’m afraid he is rather… difficult, much like his mother, my sister. They’ve sent him to me with orders to straighten him out or…”

  “Or what, sir?” Theodore asked, when Mr. Hoffman stopped.

  “Nothing. I’m sorry to trouble you with family difficulties.”

  Within five minutes of opening, their first customer arrived. Their customers all had long lists of things they needed, so Theodore was kept busy retrieving items from shelves all over the store and packing orders. The pace that day was consistently active, with many customers and many large orders. But Theodore enjoyed being busy. Before it seemed possible, his pocket watch indicated it was noon and time for lunch. Glancing toward the apartment entrance, he was both surprised and not surprised to find the door separating the store from the living quarters to be once again closed.

  What he hadn’t expected was to spot Micah. He had not seen the young man enter the store. He also wasn’t at all sure what he was doing. Micah seemed to be standing with his hands behind his back simply watching—the customers, the store, Theodore, and his uncle. Never once did he smile or greet anyone who passed his location.

  “Mr. Hoffman, it’s noon.”

  “What? Oh, yes. So it is. Um. Mrs. Hoffman… isn’t herself today.”

  “Say no more.” Theodore spared him from saying something obviously uncomfortable. “I’ll go to the hotel and take my lunch there.”

  Hoffman smiled at him in an extraordinarily grandfatherly way. He placed his hand on Theodore’s arm and earnestly told him, “You’re a good boy, Theodore. Such a good boy. I don’t know what I would possibly do without you.”

  Dining out was unusual for Theodore, but dining out twice in the same day was positively unheard of. As he pulled on his coat, he was struck by a crazy idea. He tried mightily to dismiss it but was not able to do so. Taking a deep breath to build up his resolve, he walked over to Micah and asked, “Micah, I’m going to the hotel to have lunch in their dining room. Would you care to join me?”

  Micah looked at Theodore as one would look at a bug crushed under one’s shoe. Theodore wasn’t sure how anyone could look so haughty, but Micah managed it with no effort. “One does not dine with the help,” he stated with obvious disdain before turning and focusing his attention elsewhere.

  Theodore wasted no additional effort. He’d made the move to be sociable, welcoming on several occasions, only to be rebuffed at every turn. He knew when to write something off as a lost cause, even though he was only “the help.”

  The restaurant was busy but efficient, so Theodore was able to dine and be back at the store only a few minutes past the time he was due back. Before he’d even removed his coat, Micah was in front of him. “You’re late,” he pronounced.

  Theodore chose to ignore him. He rejoined Mr. Hoffman behind the counter and told him, “I’m back, sir, so you can take your lunch break.”

  “What? Oh, yes. So I see.”

  Theodore watched Mr. Hoffman ascend the stairs and disappear into the apartment he shared with Mrs. Hoffman.

  “You, boy,” he heard Micah’s voice. Looking up slowly, Theodore spotted the odious little man.

  “Are you addressing me, Micah?”

  “Do you see anyone else here?” he huffed.

  “My name is Theodore, Theodore McCall.”

  “I could care less. Go to the train station and retrieve the shipment that arrived on the 10:00 a.m. train. When you’re back, get it unpacked. Quickly now.” He then had the audacity to clap his hands twice toward Theodore.

  Theodore stood looking at Micah for a moment, until he heard the man say, “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, I heard what you said. Why do you feel the need to be so rude?” he asked.

  “I’m not rude. I’m focused on what needs to be done. Now get to work. Those boxes are not going to bring themselves over here.”

  “Mr. Hoffman hires the station porters to bring deliveries to the store.”

  “I gave you a direct order,” Micah sputtered.

  Theodore stared at the little man for nearly ten seconds before moving to grab his jacket. He did the moving that day, despite the fact that the boxes were heavy and awkward, not to mention dirty and greasy. He got black grease marks all over his store apron, but he supposed that that was why they wore aprons—to protect their clothes from just such occurrences.

  When Theodore returned to the store with the first box in his arms, he brought the heavy item into the store by way of the front door. Almost immediately when he had the door open to carry the box inside, Micah was in front of him and pronounced, “Deliveries are not to be made through the front door of the store. Customers utilize the front door. Deliveries are to be introduced into the store by way of the entrance in the back.”

  “You try that when you’re hauling the boxes,” Theodore said. “But since you never do a single thing to help, I don’t suppose that will be anytime soon.”

  “I gave you an order, boy, and I expect it to be carried out. I do not brook disobedience.”

  Theodore was livid. He unceremoniously dropped the box on the floor just inside the front door and marched straight up to the apartment entrance, which once again was closed. He pounded loudly on the door, and a startled Mrs. Hoffman opened it, looking very much meeker than her usual vivacious self.

  “Oh, good day, Theo… Mr. McCall. How may I help you?” she asked very formally, a formality that had never before been part of their relationship. He had always been respectful, and she had been polite in a friendly manner.

  “I need to talk with Mr. Hoffman.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s resting at the moment and cannot be disturbed. Please consult with Micah about whatever the issue is in Mr. H
offman’s absence.” She started to close the door, but Theodore interrupted that move.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Hoffman, but Micah is the problem I wish to discuss with Mr. Hoffman.”

  Theodore thought for a moment that Mrs. Hoffman was going to shed tears. She put her hand to her mouth and then looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, Theodore. I’ll give him the message when he’s finished resting.” And then she did close the door.

  For a day that had started so nicely, the day had certainly gone to hell since then. After a moment of quiet consideration, still standing on the stairs, Theodore returned to the main floor of the store to move the box he’d carried into the store and out of the pathway of the customers.

  But before he could even reach the box to move it, he heard a female voice he recognized as one of their regular customers calling to him, “Theodore! Theodore. Will you tell this man how things work, please.”

  “What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Smith?” he asked, quickly shifting into customer-service mode.

  “I told him Mr. Hoffman lets me charge things and pay him at the end of the month.”

  “Yes, of course.” Theodore looked up at Micah to relay that message about a standard operating procedure only to find the man glaring at him. “We keep a separate ledger—”

  Before he could finish speaking, though, Micah informed the customer, “Credit without collateral is not good business practice.”

  “What does he mean, Theodore?”

  “I think he means that he wants something of equal value to the goods you’re purchasing to hold in lieu of payment.”

  She gasped. “But I’ve never been asked that before. And I don’t have anything of equal value. If I did I’d simply pay for my groceries now. Mr. Hoffman set it up this way for me,” she tried to explain to Micah, “close to twenty years ago.”

  “As I’ve already informed you, uncollateralized credit is not good business practice, and we are in the process of moving to a more solid business footing.”

  She looked at Theodore beseechingly, but he didn’t have a solution for her.