EDMUND

Edmund        

            Raywalked along the boulevard, his head hanging low, as if he were staring at hisown shoes.  His fingers worked fast, withenergy, picking at his cuticles and cleaning the dirt from under hisfingernails.  As he passed a liquor store,which he glanced at without turning his head, he raised his eyes and saw thetime.  The clock tower on the front sideof the arts building read ten to three. He shook his head and quickened his pace, all the while he mumbled underhis breath.

            Edmund.He pronounced the last consonant hard, with great distaste, as he wrung his handstogether.  I’ll catch up with you one ofthese days, I promise you.

            Hecontinued walking, his head looking towards the ground, his hands continuingtheir constant motion.  He ran hisfingers over his shaved head, the bristles of his short hair tickling hispalm.  Ray looked skyward and laughed histeeth showing crooked and yellowed through his lips. 

            Ofall people to cost me my job, He said through his smile; indeed, through hisfit of laughter, which caused him to sway off course.  He bent over slightly, his laughing gettingthe better of his posture.  I’ll get thatman if it is the last thing I do.  I justneed to talk to her before I look for him. I need to tell her about last night.

            Heturned the corner at the coffee shop, leaving the boulevard behind, and for amoment stepping out of the afternoon sun, the glare of which he was glad toescape.  He passed along an alleyway, theshade a welcome relief, and for a moment, his hands came to a rest, seemed tosleep.  They hung limp at his sides andhe slowed his gait, coming to a near stroll. He closed his eyes and sighed.  Hecame to a stop next to a dumpster, pausing for a moment to light a cigarette.  He inhaled deeply and the lines creased intohis forehead relaxed.  A smile parted hislips, softening for a moment his features, which indeed were on the severeside.  His hair, shaved close, whichrevealed scars on his scalp, left open his face, his dark eyes, seething browneyes.

            Hesat upon a milk crate for a moment and resting his face in his hands, began totalk to himself in a quiet, hushed tone.

           

            Somemight call it madness, and I agree there may be a hint of it, just a slightwhiff, in this incessant hatred of him.  Forall these years passing does nothing to dampen the seething constant bile in mymouth I feel when I think upon his visage. Edmund!  I wish to strike you.  I wish to call upon the many powers, terribleand wide to do thee harm.  I will berevenged upon you, Edmund.  Wounds mayheal, but indeed, memory does not fade, my hatred will not abate.  But of her, but of her, that is something Ishall not relish.  She attempts to soothemy anger, to lessen the bitterness of him, of that day, but it is in vain.  I wish she can understand.

            Hestood up, as if pulled, or yanked and flicking his cigarette to one side, beganto walk.  His face showed no emotion,eyes straight forward, not seeing or caring to see the vagrant lying on hisside in the alley.  The sun shone at thefar end of the way, a palpable heat in visible color.  He made for it and exited the alley, turningbrisk and sure to the left, not pausing a moment for afternoon shoppers. 

            Itis what I must do, He said, passing the bookstore, the Chinese restaurant insight.  He looked at the clock throughthe window of the bookstore: 3:05.  Stylishlylate.

            Ilove you, I always will.  I just want youto know that this isn’t about you.  Thisis something I must do.  You know how Ifeel about him.  You know this will neverleave me until that moment I see him looking in to my eyes, staring up into myeyes knowing the time is close at hand. Please understand, He nodded in approval and rubbed his neck with hisfingers, kneading tension and doubt.

            Heapproached the door, his hands once again moving, picking at his cuticles.  He grabbed the handle, pulled the door openand stepped into the restaurant.

            Blackleather, maître de, stained glass. 

Gentleman, with fat,looking at his gray overcoat. 

Lady in pink, water in hereyes. 

Captain, with paid smile,pouring wine. 

Three ladies, pretty,average, unremarkable, chatting, without sound, husbandry. 

Empty space, next table.

           

            Raycame to a halt next to the fat gentleman holding his gray overcoat.  He screamed, smashing the silent dumb show ofpretty, average and unremarkable.

            EDMUND!