A Gothic Lesson in Love

by Curtis Bennett

  “I imagine that is why we should all remain true to ourselves,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m not much of a drinker myself, you know.”

  “Now I do,” she smiled. “But you’re right. We should remain true to ourselves or we end up in roles we are not familiar with and which may be poor representations of who we really are.”

  “I couldn’t have said it any better,” he injected with the charm of an old friend and confidante.

  “So, what do you think of me Morris,” she said as she dipped another oyster in hot seasoned butter. “I know you have only spent a brief period of time with me but I was just wondering.”

  Caught off guard by her question he pondered a response.

  “I think you are quite interesting and definitely someone I’d like to get to know better.”

  “And what do you find interesting about me?” she asked, as she placed another succulent shrimp inside her mouth.

  She was not making this easy for him, he thought. Not at all. “Well, I find you to be outgoing and adventurous. And you like to ride bikes, and I fancy that. And I see that you like seafood, and I like that as well. And you are curious about those around you, I gather by our conversations.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You’re an inquisitive but very incredible American,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said wearing a confident smile.

  “It was meant to be,” he replied as he gulped down the remainder of his cola.

  “Thank you. Anyway, I want to say that your response was pretty much on target.”

  “And what about you? What do you know about me?”

  “Not a whole lot,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Seriously, I know that you are a decent person, from what I have observed, and a hard worker. You like seafood, as I do, and you like to have fun and hang out with your friends. Oh yes, you like to go fishing. That pretty much covers it.”

  “That’s not saying a lot, as far as what you know about me,” he said, as he suspended his fork and shrimp in midair as he awaited her response. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

  “Don’t panic,” she said with a playful gaze. “We’ve only known one another for a short while but we still have the remainder of the summer to get to know one another.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he came back. “I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.”

  Nowhere in particular, she thought but instead said, “I was just curious.”

  “Look, they’re having a summer festival this weekend in town,” he began. “I’m going on Saturday. Would you be interested in going with me? And I promise there will be no drinking involved. Just you and me and the whole town celebrating.”

  “Sure, what time?”

  “I can pick you up around noon Saturday, okay lass?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Morris waited for Irene to finish the remainder of her drink then they paid the bill. As before, she insisted on paying for her meal.

  Irene woke with a slight headache. She had slept poorly, after getting word that her sister Margo had been in a major car accident with a couple of her friends the night before. Though she had been assured by her mother that Margo had walked away with only a few scratches and a bruise to her ribcage, one of the girls involved remained in serious condition but was expected to fully recover. Visions of her sister or mother being harmed or seriously injured plagued her until she finally drifted off. She thought about canceling her lesson with the professor but that idea vaporized as quickly as dried ice.

  She arose thirty minutes later than she had planned to the following morning. After breakfast with her aunt, she washed and put away dishes and read the morning paper. A short while later she was off and on her way to the Seabreeze residence.

  As before, she let herself in and waited on the professor to make an appearance. It wasn’t long before his presence was made known. The dark clothing, the dark setting, all complimented the dark atmosphere that permeated the room. Still, whenever she heard his deep baritone voice, the surroundings seemed to brighten up. The man had presence.

  “Good morning Irene, are you ready for today’s lesson?” he said, walking past her buoyed by his cane.

  “Yes, I am, professor.”

  “Then follow me,” he instructed.

  Standing up she followed.

  They soon arrived at an open and stone-paved circular area in the garden with an outdoor table and three chairs, one a rocker. Surrounding the area were several clumps of tall European White Birch trees which provided amble shade. “This is an area I call Serenity Circle.”

  Sitting down on the rocker, Irene gazed at several books on the glass table. There was a book on John Locke and another on Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle. Behind these were books on Hobbes and Machiavelli. All were well-known philosophers.

  “I took the liberty of coming out here earlier this morning to read,” he said, sitting down. “Are you familiar with any of these great thinkers?” he said, referring to the books on the table.

  “I’m familiar with all of them,” was her reply.

  “Then you understand the dialectic approach to reasoning some of these thinkers used, I gather.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said. “You used such an approach with me in our last conversation, which eventually led to your questioning my sense of fairness.”

  “You are indeed quite perceptive,” the professor said sitting down across from her.

  “Thank you,” she said proudly as she began to rock slowly in the chair.

  “And speaking of fairness, have you given it much thought?”

  “I did give it thought,” she said. “There’s a young lad I met whom I had gone out with on several occasions. I am not interested in him romantically but I sense he would like to get to know me better.”

  “So you have made such an acquaintance,” he said gripping his cane. “Now, relate this to our discussion on fairness.”

  “Well, I only went out with him initially because my aunt thought it might be a good idea.”

  “And the other times?”

  “More of the same, except for my lunch outing with him yesterday,” she admitted as she picked up her rocking pace.

  “What was different about yesterday?”

  “I’m not really sure, professor,” she answered.

  “Rubbish! You know exactly why you met with him, Irene,” he scolded her. “Now let’s be truthful and tell me what I already know.”

  Startled, she swallowed and sat back in the rocker, bringing her rocking to a sudden stop.

  “Yesterday I decided, in order to be fair with him, that I’d give him a chance to get to know me better, something I did not allow or encouraged the times we went out before,” she said, her voice tensed.

  “I see. Continue, please.”

  “”I wanted him to see the real me, not someone who was playing a role on account of someone else,” she said more calmly.

  “That someone else being your aunt, I gather.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, did he get to see the real you?”

  “I’m not sure if the short period of time we spent together was enough time for him to get to know the real me.”

  “Have you made plans to see him again for the sole purpose of him getting to know you?”

  “He invited me to attend a festival in Aylesbury this Saturday with him.”

  “Ahh, the summer festival,” the professor said. “And you accepted?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Good,” he uttered as he tightened his grip on his cane with his gloved hand. “Just remember one thing and that is to be true to yourself.”

  “I plan on being myself, professor,” she said as the two sat looking at each other. Though she was getting used to seeing his face covered, she longed to know what he looked like but she also wanted to know what forces put him in bondage. She felt sad for him, not knowing the emotional p
ain he endured day in and day out. Perhaps his face was scarred from a fire. Perhaps he was disfigured in some other way, perhaps from birth.

  “Allow me to ask you this one question,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “If I had brought you out here today, in this lovely garden, and told you that everything you saw was artificial, not real, would you retain the same enthusiasm, the same bewilderment, the same excitement and interest as you possess now?’

  “No, I don’t think that I would.”

  “It is the same way with people, Irene,” he said in a hushed tone. “Be anyone but yourself and the moment the people you’ve fooled open their eyes, they will lose their respect and interest in you.”

  “Believe me, that particular lesson is much clearer now.”

  “Good. You see, to be oneself is to be as truth represents in us all…virtue.”

  “Can you elaborate further, professor?”

  “Yes I can. You see, before we can fully grasp world knowledge we must first grasp knowledge of self, understand?”

  “In a way.”

  “Truth exists in all of us, whether it is a weakness, strength, a specific desire, want, or need. But before we can understand the world we must first understand the secrets we shield ourselves from and from others. I’m talking about the things that hold us back and also the things that motivate us.”

  “I see, now.”

  “Do you Irene?”

  “Minus self-discovery, in this instance understanding one’s self, life can venture off in numerous directions, mainly dead end roads with some pretty bad consequences. Is that what you are getting at, professor?”

  “Exactly!” he cried out, delighted that she was getting it.

  Irene relaxed after hearing this and to a point she started rocking again.

  “So, if you seek to be a person of substance, be truth, be virtuous, and not artificial Irene, and you will find peace and justness in whatever you pursue. Most of all, you will not have to layer a lie on top of another lie. That’s no way to live one’s life.”

  Irene nodded in agreement.

  “Professor, I remember our agreement, and I respect that, but I am curious. Why can’t you trust me enough to tell me why you remain hidden behind a metal veil and gloved hands?”

  Rising up, his voice blaring, he said, “Our agreement was that there would be no personal questions about myself and now that you have violated that agreement, it is time for you to go.”

  “I’m sorry, professor,” she said standing up, her face falling in response to his rebuke. “Please, I meant no harm or disrespect.”

  “Follow me,” he uttered as he moved quickly towards the cottage.

  As they walked in a hurried pace she attempted to plead her case for forgiveness but he refused to acknowledge her. Once inside of the house she collected her things and was led to the front door.

  “Are we still on for Friday?” she asked, as she dropped her lashes to hide the hurt. “I need to know.”

  “Irene, you were doing just fine right up to the point of your personal question. I was committed to teaching you what you asked of me,” he reprimanded her, his voice stern and hardened. “You may return when you know something about commitment. Now please go!”

  Opening the door, he pointed then gestured with his gloved hand, emphasizing his desire for her immediate departure.

  Lost for words, she left the house and the grounds in tears. This and what happened with her sister the night before was too much to handle emotionally. What secret, what past transgression could affect a man in this way, she pondered as she rode of on her scooter. It was a simple question, that’s all, she told herself. Nothing damming or harmful or disrespectful. Yet it was severe enough of an affront that she had probably jeopardized the remainder of her lessons with him. What a day! First the terrible news about her sister the day before and now this misunderstanding. What could happen next, she pondered?

  Chapter 8

  Staring into the distance Irene had paid scant attention to the television program as she sat alongside her aunt on the sofa. She was flustered over the events of the day and wished she could have done it all over again and in a different way. But it was too late for second chances. What was done was done.

  “Are you all right Irene,” her aunt asked, patting Irene’s calf. “You seem completely lost in thought. Everything okay between you and Morris?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about the accident and what could have happened to Margo and what did happen to her friend Nancy,” Irene said.

  “You want to call home again?”

  “No, that’s all right,” she answered, exhaling. “Twice this evening was enough.”

  “And you’re sure Nancy is going to pull through?”

  “Yes, she should be out of the hospital in a day or two, I’ve been told.”

  “Good,” Audrey said blinking. “Man, I’m getting pretty sleepy now. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

  “Yeah, I’m about ready to turn in as well.”

  “If you want me to, I’ll fix us both a glass of ice tea with real raspberries and a couple of raspberry muffins, freshly made this afternoon, before we turn in.”

  “Sure, that sounds good,” Irene replied soberly.

  “And remember, we’re getting an early start in the morning for our London trip after I attend morning Mass.”

  “I’ll be ready, auntie.”

  “Good, now let’s go get something to snack on.”

  Turning the television off, the two headed for the kitchen.

  After she was in the privacy of her room she plopped down on the bed. Tears stung her eyes and she fought them back, and swiped at them with the back of her hand. But they continued to flow until she finally drifted off to sleep.

  Their one day London trip had gone off without a hitch. That Friday came and it went but Irene could not bring herself to go near the Seabreeze residence. The rejection she felt was still fresh. She had even found a new route to get to the towns of Wayne Brier and Aylesbury.

  The festival outing with Morris that Saturday turned out to be memorable and entertaining, even fun. They walked about and played games and watched street performers and listened to several local bands over a five hour period. They visited numerous shops and boutiques and Morris took her to eat at restaurants she had never been to. Before the day was over she had the back seat of his mother’s car full with bags of clothing and souvenirs and trinkets and two large stuffed animals she had won at the festival.

  The more she got to know Morris the more comfortable she felt about him.

  The following day they met for an old fashioned picnic at a local park. There they sat under a huge white oak and talked and ate sandwiches and potato salad and baked beans with bacon she had prepared for them. At one point, he drew close to her. Sensing his intent, she didn’t turn away her face when he kissed her. But she warned him that she still held no romantic interest in him. But she was willing to give him a fair chance of getting to know her. That part she kept to herself. And it was based on the professor’s lesson on fairness. If he was pursuing her and failed to ignite her heart or passion it would not be because she had never given him the chance. Still, he was good looking, hardworking, clean and very bright, and he was fun to be around.

  Before she realized it a week had passed by, then two weeks, then three. During that time she resisted going over to the professor’s cottage, though a day had not gone by without her wondering about him.

  A month after her last lesson, Irene and her aunt flew off to Greece for a short vacation before traveling on to the French Riviera. They stayed at the luxurious Hellenic Hotel, ate breakfast and lunch in their floral laden terrace restaurant, visited shops and souvenir stores, along wide boulevards lined with orange trees, and looked out of their room window which offered them a panoramic view of the Acropolis, which could be seen by starlight, and dawn light. It was a wonderful four day visit. Now the time had come to wrap things up and fly over to Cannes, France f
or a three day visit there.

  That evening they decided to turn in early. Irene took the liberty of going out on the balcony to take one final night view of the Parthenon before calling it a day. With her new camera in hand she took several pictures then climbed into bed.

  The bright Greek sun leapt through their bedroom windows the following morning, waking them both. Rising up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, as she stretched and yawned, and greeted her aunt. Since they had packed the night before, there was little to do but check out and make their way over to Athens’ airport. Inside of two hours they were airborne and heading towards France. The two enjoyed a fun-filled time touring the city, taking a boat ride on the French Riviera, shopping, and tanning on the topless beach. As the saying goes “When in Rome do as the Romans do” but this was one time they decided to restrict themselves to American customs and keep their bikini tops on.

  The following Monday they arrived in London via ferry from France. A porter promptly transferred their luggage to a taxi and from there they drove over to the train station. They arrived in Ashbury Point an hour past noon. Exhausted from their travels they decided to crash for a few hours.

  Irene woke up and immediately shot a look at her new wristwatch. It was a little after 6:30 PM. Rising up, she could smell something good cooking in the kitchen downstairs. After freshening up, she went downstairs and into the kitchen.

  “My, whatever you’re cooking smells delicious, auntie,” Irene said in greeting.

  “I’m baking candy yams and Shepard’s Pie with ground beef, mixed vegetables, broccoli and carrots and bell peppers. Sound good to you, huh?”

  “Hey, I can’t wait to dig in,” she replied taking a seat at the table.

  “I also have seasoned cabbage with green peppers and onions and sliced cuts of smoked sausage, which I marinated in Tabasco sauce, cooking on the stovetop for tomorrow’s meal.”