Reminiscences of an evening past- December 30, 2009 (Act II)

6:45PM to 7:15PM

Two men leave a café. Two other men board a car. Two men walk to their destination. Two other men are driven there. The walk is accompanied by mellow conversation and thoughtful repose; the drive is besot by mirth and violence. The only common thought the four men share is about the appointed place and time.

The man and his friend begin walking, lost in conversation and private thoughts; they meandered, leisurely, up the pleasant boulevard and towards the controlled chaos of traffic that so frequently ail major roadways. They speak about their dreams, hopes for the future and the mechanics of success, challenging each other and playing that game of “Devil’s advocate”. There was a heavy air around both of them, what lent it that weight none can say; they solider on.

The co-conspirator, a portly man and his lanky, silent, companion drive to their destination, the radio blares loudly drowning in it’s raucous output any hope for sensible conversation. They laugh, with measured sincerity, at the prospects of the evening ahead. The car swerves onto a strangely abandoned main road, the radio blares on. A thought strikes the co-conspirator, he extracts his phone from his bag and calls the victim and his lanky companion silences the radio.  They drive on, the silence interrupted only by the urgent voice of the portly man narrating a hurried story.

[“Yes… the wind shield has been bashed in…”
“We are fine.. No he sustained a few nicks and cuts, nothing too serious… yes odd enough that it happened on that road”

“Good, you guys should carry on I will call later to let you know… oh my…sure...”

“Is this being asked with him around? No? Ah! Excellent- we will be there in another two minutes.. Preparations have been made, bye.]

The man disconnects the phone and hands it back to his friend. The central business district came into view over the next rise and the two men continue on their path toward it, deftly avoiding the deep hollows that threatened to swallow them up if they slipped in. They cross the road and pass the old church, the silence between them their only companion. A gaily-lit building loomed large before them; the first man leads his friend in and proffers a story of an errand that he needs to complete there, his friend lost in his own thoughts follows him in absently.

The lift is slow and is playing a song; “Love, sorrow, pain, sweet melancholy, mirth, joy, new year, faggot, scientist, God, god, race, sex, deviant, defiant, insurrection” the game of word association being played in the man’s head ends as the lift stops at their floor and the men exit purposefully.

They walk through a narrow passage and climb the large staircase at the end of it to enter a low lighted terrace, the man smiles and greets his portly co-conspirator, the victim merely offers a wry smile and utters the cautious words “neatly done”. 

Reminiscences of an evening past- December 30, 2009 (Act I)

5:45 PM to 6:45PM

The dragonfly hovered listlessly over the coffee mug as the man waited at the appointed place, the coffee was cold and bad and the other patrons lost in their thoughts or conversations. The cool evening breeze made him tighten his jacket for a bit more warmth, and his index finger lazily flicked the card pinned to the gift, uncertain that he had made the right choice. A car rolls by with a great whooshing sound; the object of his wait was late.

Another swill of the foul tasting coffee made him gag but it helped his self consciousness, he hated waiting, it made him feel like an outsider, like he didn’t belong there; another swill and another irritated smile at the overly attentive waiter and his thoughts drifted. The reverie is interrupted by a phone call, it’s his co-conspirator calling to say all is to plan and the trap is ready to be sprung all he had to do was help the victim walk into it. The call is brief and does its part to ease his discomfort.

The dragonfly settles, lethargically, on his sleeve, he does not interrupt it’s exploratory venture into the creases of his jacket, his eyes wander attentively over the form the insect…. thorax, legs, wings, the hypnotic eyes and, almost as if the insect could feel his gaze, it leapt into the air and to its escape from a patient predator.

The wait was all but forgotten when his friend walks in to the cafe with an air of practiced cavalier grimness that had become his manner over the years.

A conversation ensues between the two of them; low pitched and conspiratorial tones are employed as was their usual manner. The inanity of social pleasantry and the ritualistic transaction of questions about each other’s current circumstances are satisfactorily concluded. A visible relaxation can be noticed in their manner as they break off their huddle and beckon the anxious waiter to their table. As they wait to be served more of the foul tasting swill, the first man slides the package across the table, his eyes eagerly waiting for any sign of joy or dismay from the recipient.

A sceptical look fills the recipient’s face, his brow furrows as his unusually long fingers trace the outline of the package, at once trying to find the seams of the wrapping paper and anticipate the nature of the object, his fore finger finds the card pinned to the wrapper and trepidation fills his eyes as he reads the message etched in it. The search for the seams becomes more urgent and frantic, trepidation replaced slowly by curiosity and cautious eagerness. The contents of the package now lay bare before them; the recipient’s face is filled with relief and some small measure of satisfaction. A smile and a firm handshake are exchanged. The foul tasting swill is served and the waiter leaves them to their silence.