Conflict Of Interests
Winning Entry by Shay Rose
“Who’s that, at the corner table?” Elaine asks Ruthy, who was spinning about the lobby busily serving guests.
“What, him?” Ruthy nodded in the man’s direction, where he sat alone at a table for two. “That’s Henry Wilcox, he’s one of them boys just got back from France or some such, real quiet these days but I tell you he’s still a looker!”
"What did he order?"
"Hmmm? Oh well, I think it was a spot of tea if I remember."
"Mind if I serve it?" Elaine asked.
"Be my guest," Ruthy said with shrug and spun off with her tray of bacon and eggs.
Elaine bustled back to the kitchen and snagged a pot of tea. She didn't know what exactly it was about the soldier, but she knew he had a story. He had that look about him. And well, he reminded her of Dan, and she needed something to take her mind off the old heavy.
“How do you take your tea?” she asked, striding up to his table. He glanced up, startled, from where he'd been staring at his hands folded on the white tablecloth.
"Sorry miss?"
Elaine was in return startled by his deep brown eyes. Soulful eyes, her mama might call them. Soulful and deep. And sad. Elaine felt her heart reach out.
"I asked, how do you take your tea, Henry?"
Henry blinked in surprise, but paused before answering. He knew the question was a more personal one than it appeared. Something about Elaine let him answer honest. Her eyes were disarming.
“With milk and sugar, when no one is around, but I generally skip both in company. And I'm at a disadvantage. You know my name, miss...?”
“Miss Harvey, but you can call me Elaine. And, why would you do such a thing?” Elaine asked, pouring the tea into the petite service.
“Well, present company excluded, I find people judge when a guy like me puts in two teaspoons of sugar and half a cup of milk. I was in the war, after all, I got used to it without. It’s not very manly, you see.”
Elaine gave him a laugh, "And you think it’s more manly, denying yourself things you enjoy?”
Henry took a breath in as if to answer right away, paused, and then answered, “I’m afraid that’s our Western definition of manhood: we grow up on hard truths and self-flagellation. And then we get sent to war to die. Not much enjoyment in that.”
“That’s rather a dull outlook on things. If I had my druthers, we’d all drink tea the way we like, do the things we like, and no one would go off to Europe to shoot each other.”
Henry managed a laugh at that, and quickly raised his hand to his mouth in surprise. Wry or not, it was his first laugh since his buddy Jack got shot.
“What’s so funny?” Elaine queried.
"Well, I haven't laughed in...well, in a good long while."
"Well, we'll just have to change that, won't we mister? So, would you like some tea with your milk and sugar?" She asked as she poured a whole dollop of milk in. The milk bloomed in the glass. She took a small silver spoon, and keeping eye contact with Henry, added two heaping teaspoons of sugar. She stirred, back and forth like her mama taught her.
Henry blushed and glanced away, but his eyes kept darting to the tea as she stirred. He abruptly said, "It wasn't shooting."
"Pardon?"
"I mean, if it was just shooting at each other it would have been fine, you know? It wasn't just shooting. It was the trenches." His jaw clenched, and he tensed as he fell silent.
"Well, this won't do at all, I said I'd make you laugh, and here you are about to cry on me!" Elaine looked over her shoulder surreptitiously, and quickly sat. She took his hand in hers, and rubbed it quick before dropping it.
"Look sir, I don't know you, you don't know me, but when I saw you across the way I just knew I had to get to know you. You've seen some stuff, and well, I've seen some stuff too. Lost some good people. But I'm going to be frank, which is this: you have something that I want."
Henry looked up, and Elaine felt a jolt at those brimming eyes. "What could you possibly want from me? I have nothing left to give."
Elaine brushed the comment aside. "Well, a bit of your time for starters. There's something about you...I'm not sure. You remind me of my brother, Dan. We haven't heard about him in a while back home, all of us are real worried, and we can't seem to find out even basics, like where he's stationed, his squad number, that sort of thing. Heard he might be in France a while back. That's where you were at, right? Maybe you could ask around, help get me some contacts?"
Henry felt himself deflate a bit. It was always something, people wanting impossible things from him. They never seemed to want to talk to him because of himself, but always had an angle. "I'm sorry Miss Harvey, I don't think I'll be of much use. I just was discharged myself, and I really wasn't in France long enough to know any of the soldiers other than in my unit. The rest of my time was in England."
Elaine in turn also deflated, and looked away. To break the awkward moment, Henry took a sip of tea. He made a surprised 'hmm' in the back of his throat, and took another sip. "You make some good tea, miss."
Elaine smiled, still in profile.
"Would you like a cup of tea, miss? How do you take it?"
Elaine glanced in surprise, and huffed a small laugh. "I like coffee, and I take it black."
Henry waived down another waitress, and Ruthy came over to the table. "What can I do for you? Got tired of serving already, Elaine?" she asked, winking at Elaine.
"Can I get a coffee, black, for the missus here?" Henry asked.
"Sure thing, coming right up. Be back in two blinks, you kids have fun!"
Henry looked at Elaine, "Do I detect sarcasm? I didn't mean to call attention to you for sitting, sorry if you get in trouble."
"Oh, its no mind, I don't technically work here. I move through sometimes and they let me pick up a shift or two in exchange for a night's stay."
Surprised, Henry said, "You travel?"
"Yes, before the war I wrote for my newspaper back home as the travel columnist, but since '39 I have been writing a soldier's special column. I didn't want to say, because you strike me as the sort who doesn't want to share the heavy stuff, and doesn't think the lighter stuff worth sharing."
Henry thought the assessment was rather acute for someone who'd just met him. "You got all that from a look?"
"Well no, Ruthy is also a terrible gossip. You two grew up together?"
"We went to school together, I wouldn't call it growing up together. Her parents wouldn't let her near me with a ten foot pole. My family wasn't so well off, part of the reason I enlisted."
"So this is home?"
"This is home. Or, this was home."
At that moment, Ruthy came bustling back with a black coffee. "Now! There we are, enjoy!" And just as quickly scurried off to another table.
"You know, she served as a nurse for a year before coming back here."
"Really?" Elaine turned to watch Ruthy go. She hadn't mentioned anything of the sort on any of Elaine's stops in Mills Creek Hotel. She took a swig of the coffee. It was bitter and strong and reminded her of Dan.
"I'm going to enlist as a nurse then. How do I do that, do you think?"
Alarmed, Henry reached for her hand. "You don't mean that. Don't do that, why would you say that?"
"Its just, I need a way of contacting my brother Dan and if I'm in Europe it would sure be a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it now? There's no way in hell I'm getting over there myself, so I'd better have a good reason, hadn't I?"
Henry just stared. Here was this stunning and bold working woman sitting in front of him, drinking her coffee black, proclaiming she was about to enter the hellhole he had just left. There was no way he could let her do it. No way in hell. He would just have to convince her otherwise.
"Look lady, if you're that desperate to find your brother, I'm sure there are more official ways to go about it. No need to put yourself in harms way. What if they deployed you to the front lines? You'd see men become meat! No one should have to see that! You could be killed, or have to kill someone to put them out of their misery, or run out of morphine, or watch your buddy die, no one should have to see that, or the gas, no one..." Henry's voice had been growing louder, and he broke off, gasping. His chest rose and fell, and a noise like thunder rose in his ears. His hands gripped the teacup, and the liquid quaked.
Elaine, seeing the telltale signs of a panic attack, reached across the table and grabbed his hands, pinning them around the tea. "Breath, Henry, breath! Look at me! Breathe," she breathed in and out to show him. "Feel how hot the tea is? Can you feel it in your hands? What do your hands feel like, Henry?"
Slowly, Henry's heartbeat slowed, and he looked at Elaine. Her hands were around his, steady and strong, and he managed, "The tea...has gone a bit...cold."
"Well that's because of all the milk, mister. The water never had a chance." She continued soothingly, "Hey listen, I just need to find my brother. Whatever you've gone through, I want to spare him that. I think he might be in trouble. Like, big picture cover-up type of trouble. I don't need your help today, but yours is the fate I'm trying to save him from. Think you can do that for me? Save someone else your experiences?"
Henry looked her steady in the eye now. "Yes," he said, "I'd like that very much."
The conversation turned toward lighter things for a while. Ruthy watched the couple, a smile on her lips. She'd always thought that Henry a handsome fellow, but a bit too serious for her taste. And that Elaine, did she ever work hard to get what she wanted. Ruthy loaded up another tray, with a cup of tea with two teaspoons of sugar and too much milk for him, and a coffee black for her. They could sure talk.
“What, him?” Ruthy nodded in the man’s direction, where he sat alone at a table for two. “That’s Henry Wilcox, he’s one of them boys just got back from France or some such, real quiet these days but I tell you he’s still a looker!”
"What did he order?"
"Hmmm? Oh well, I think it was a spot of tea if I remember."
"Mind if I serve it?" Elaine asked.
"Be my guest," Ruthy said with shrug and spun off with her tray of bacon and eggs.
Elaine bustled back to the kitchen and snagged a pot of tea. She didn't know what exactly it was about the soldier, but she knew he had a story. He had that look about him. And well, he reminded her of Dan, and she needed something to take her mind off the old heavy.
“How do you take your tea?” she asked, striding up to his table. He glanced up, startled, from where he'd been staring at his hands folded on the white tablecloth.
"Sorry miss?"
Elaine was in return startled by his deep brown eyes. Soulful eyes, her mama might call them. Soulful and deep. And sad. Elaine felt her heart reach out.
"I asked, how do you take your tea, Henry?"
Henry blinked in surprise, but paused before answering. He knew the question was a more personal one than it appeared. Something about Elaine let him answer honest. Her eyes were disarming.
“With milk and sugar, when no one is around, but I generally skip both in company. And I'm at a disadvantage. You know my name, miss...?”
“Miss Harvey, but you can call me Elaine. And, why would you do such a thing?” Elaine asked, pouring the tea into the petite service.
“Well, present company excluded, I find people judge when a guy like me puts in two teaspoons of sugar and half a cup of milk. I was in the war, after all, I got used to it without. It’s not very manly, you see.”
Elaine gave him a laugh, "And you think it’s more manly, denying yourself things you enjoy?”
Henry took a breath in as if to answer right away, paused, and then answered, “I’m afraid that’s our Western definition of manhood: we grow up on hard truths and self-flagellation. And then we get sent to war to die. Not much enjoyment in that.”
“That’s rather a dull outlook on things. If I had my druthers, we’d all drink tea the way we like, do the things we like, and no one would go off to Europe to shoot each other.”
Henry managed a laugh at that, and quickly raised his hand to his mouth in surprise. Wry or not, it was his first laugh since his buddy Jack got shot.
“What’s so funny?” Elaine queried.
"Well, I haven't laughed in...well, in a good long while."
"Well, we'll just have to change that, won't we mister? So, would you like some tea with your milk and sugar?" She asked as she poured a whole dollop of milk in. The milk bloomed in the glass. She took a small silver spoon, and keeping eye contact with Henry, added two heaping teaspoons of sugar. She stirred, back and forth like her mama taught her.
Henry blushed and glanced away, but his eyes kept darting to the tea as she stirred. He abruptly said, "It wasn't shooting."
"Pardon?"
"I mean, if it was just shooting at each other it would have been fine, you know? It wasn't just shooting. It was the trenches." His jaw clenched, and he tensed as he fell silent.
"Well, this won't do at all, I said I'd make you laugh, and here you are about to cry on me!" Elaine looked over her shoulder surreptitiously, and quickly sat. She took his hand in hers, and rubbed it quick before dropping it.
"Look sir, I don't know you, you don't know me, but when I saw you across the way I just knew I had to get to know you. You've seen some stuff, and well, I've seen some stuff too. Lost some good people. But I'm going to be frank, which is this: you have something that I want."
Henry looked up, and Elaine felt a jolt at those brimming eyes. "What could you possibly want from me? I have nothing left to give."
Elaine brushed the comment aside. "Well, a bit of your time for starters. There's something about you...I'm not sure. You remind me of my brother, Dan. We haven't heard about him in a while back home, all of us are real worried, and we can't seem to find out even basics, like where he's stationed, his squad number, that sort of thing. Heard he might be in France a while back. That's where you were at, right? Maybe you could ask around, help get me some contacts?"
Henry felt himself deflate a bit. It was always something, people wanting impossible things from him. They never seemed to want to talk to him because of himself, but always had an angle. "I'm sorry Miss Harvey, I don't think I'll be of much use. I just was discharged myself, and I really wasn't in France long enough to know any of the soldiers other than in my unit. The rest of my time was in England."
Elaine in turn also deflated, and looked away. To break the awkward moment, Henry took a sip of tea. He made a surprised 'hmm' in the back of his throat, and took another sip. "You make some good tea, miss."
Elaine smiled, still in profile.
"Would you like a cup of tea, miss? How do you take it?"
Elaine glanced in surprise, and huffed a small laugh. "I like coffee, and I take it black."
Henry waived down another waitress, and Ruthy came over to the table. "What can I do for you? Got tired of serving already, Elaine?" she asked, winking at Elaine.
"Can I get a coffee, black, for the missus here?" Henry asked.
"Sure thing, coming right up. Be back in two blinks, you kids have fun!"
Henry looked at Elaine, "Do I detect sarcasm? I didn't mean to call attention to you for sitting, sorry if you get in trouble."
"Oh, its no mind, I don't technically work here. I move through sometimes and they let me pick up a shift or two in exchange for a night's stay."
Surprised, Henry said, "You travel?"
"Yes, before the war I wrote for my newspaper back home as the travel columnist, but since '39 I have been writing a soldier's special column. I didn't want to say, because you strike me as the sort who doesn't want to share the heavy stuff, and doesn't think the lighter stuff worth sharing."
Henry thought the assessment was rather acute for someone who'd just met him. "You got all that from a look?"
"Well no, Ruthy is also a terrible gossip. You two grew up together?"
"We went to school together, I wouldn't call it growing up together. Her parents wouldn't let her near me with a ten foot pole. My family wasn't so well off, part of the reason I enlisted."
"So this is home?"
"This is home. Or, this was home."
At that moment, Ruthy came bustling back with a black coffee. "Now! There we are, enjoy!" And just as quickly scurried off to another table.
"You know, she served as a nurse for a year before coming back here."
"Really?" Elaine turned to watch Ruthy go. She hadn't mentioned anything of the sort on any of Elaine's stops in Mills Creek Hotel. She took a swig of the coffee. It was bitter and strong and reminded her of Dan.
"I'm going to enlist as a nurse then. How do I do that, do you think?"
Alarmed, Henry reached for her hand. "You don't mean that. Don't do that, why would you say that?"
"Its just, I need a way of contacting my brother Dan and if I'm in Europe it would sure be a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it now? There's no way in hell I'm getting over there myself, so I'd better have a good reason, hadn't I?"
Henry just stared. Here was this stunning and bold working woman sitting in front of him, drinking her coffee black, proclaiming she was about to enter the hellhole he had just left. There was no way he could let her do it. No way in hell. He would just have to convince her otherwise.
"Look lady, if you're that desperate to find your brother, I'm sure there are more official ways to go about it. No need to put yourself in harms way. What if they deployed you to the front lines? You'd see men become meat! No one should have to see that! You could be killed, or have to kill someone to put them out of their misery, or run out of morphine, or watch your buddy die, no one should have to see that, or the gas, no one..." Henry's voice had been growing louder, and he broke off, gasping. His chest rose and fell, and a noise like thunder rose in his ears. His hands gripped the teacup, and the liquid quaked.
Elaine, seeing the telltale signs of a panic attack, reached across the table and grabbed his hands, pinning them around the tea. "Breath, Henry, breath! Look at me! Breathe," she breathed in and out to show him. "Feel how hot the tea is? Can you feel it in your hands? What do your hands feel like, Henry?"
Slowly, Henry's heartbeat slowed, and he looked at Elaine. Her hands were around his, steady and strong, and he managed, "The tea...has gone a bit...cold."
"Well that's because of all the milk, mister. The water never had a chance." She continued soothingly, "Hey listen, I just need to find my brother. Whatever you've gone through, I want to spare him that. I think he might be in trouble. Like, big picture cover-up type of trouble. I don't need your help today, but yours is the fate I'm trying to save him from. Think you can do that for me? Save someone else your experiences?"
Henry looked her steady in the eye now. "Yes," he said, "I'd like that very much."
The conversation turned toward lighter things for a while. Ruthy watched the couple, a smile on her lips. She'd always thought that Henry a handsome fellow, but a bit too serious for her taste. And that Elaine, did she ever work hard to get what she wanted. Ruthy loaded up another tray, with a cup of tea with two teaspoons of sugar and too much milk for him, and a coffee black for her. They could sure talk.
Featured Entry by Al's Mam
Conflict of interests
Sean Montcrief was not a man to suffer fools gladly or as he preferred to say himself lightly.He came from that old stable of trustworthiness reliability and hard work.His mother was a widow and had laboured long and hard with the state company an post She was a postwoma who could be seen regularly around the town of Ballybofey on her black ladies bicycle, her small five foot frame encumbered by a full calf length beige raincoat.She was swaddled in her weatherproofing she liked to remark to people who stopped her for a brief chat on main street.She never in her wildest dreams reckoned on a son who would become the leader of the nation some day.
Fair play was drilled into all her children but especiallly her youngest Sean for whom she had one might say a prevailing fondness, a bit like the westerlies that prevailed upon the town and its environs .Sometimes the wind was benign and had a calming aspect;sometimes it was more fierce but nonetheless always reliable .Her love had that kind of endurance he was to remember as she came back to him today of all days when he stood on the broad granite steps of Leinster house. Amid a welter of press photographers and journalists her slight ghost seemed to tickle his ear mildly, playfuly or was it the ides of March, those fickle winds which had brought him here to ensure that a government head and an oversized one at that was going to roll.
Jack O Leary minister for the environment had been found out at long last as many in the know night have said.Just who leaked what to the media might always remain a mystery but that was beside the point.Today Sean needed the whole country to see justice heaped on a large cold plate of right action with a side salad of integrity. Jack O leary was being asked to step down due to a conflict of interests. His having vested interests in Shannonside development not to mention other semi private agencies for years was an open secret in Daily Eireann. some night say a running sore on the taoiseachs butt. Finally he had his man and he felt the importance of it all strike him cold around the ears as he stood before the press .He wound his grey muffler around him tighter.He cleared his throat Ahem Mr O leary has been asked to step down from his office as minister for the environment due to a conflict of interests. Not having declared his shares with the afore mentioned company he has called into question the highest integrity of this office.
It was lamentable that the semi-state body had been given the tender to carry out extensive hydro repairs and further construction at this time.In due course more tenders would now be considered and by the close of day another minister would occupy the vacant seat.
On turning around he hurried back up the steps and vanished into the interior of the building.It was still early morning and the sunlight had vanished from his office when he stepped inside the door, glad to escape the prying eyes of his private secretary who was a close friend of jack o leary.
He pressed on the desk intercom Michael could you hold all calls please for fifteen minutes or so.He sat back quietly on his swivel chair and turned around to gaze out at the manicured lawns of Leinster house.Today was her anniversary .THAT MUST BE WHY HER IMPISH GHOST WAS TICKING HIM OFF from behind on the steps. But then again was it just that.? She'd been gone this past twenty years.No the memory could not evade him any longer. It willed itself to arrive at the base of his brain
His first year as a young county councillor was a difficult enough birth as he tried to grapple with his civic duties from decisions on town parking to new shopping and residential developments in the immediate area. BUT there was one civic duty he really wished to avoid which was judging the local writing competitions . He had tried to tell the other councilorrs that morning in a strangled tone about his retired mother she was a member of Ballybofey writers group but nobody else could be deployed to the town hall for this purpose it seemed and Hamish O grady the senior councillor had remarked "A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse young man."
Not wanting to get into bad standing with Hamish who could make or break his reputation he looked over the entries through gritted teeth.He recognised her entry right away without ever looking overleaf. Yes it was her poem alright .She had read it to him only a few night ago and yes it was quite good quite poignant in its way bit was it a worthy winner. His heart sank at the standard of the entries spread across his table. His mothersIS upturned face stood in front of him now and his heart let go of all his moral platitudes.Unhesitatingly he arranged the winning entries from third place up.In first place he placed his mothers entry The Leaving of Monaghan town.
He suddenly smiled to himself at the idea of her joy in winning.she who had never been selected before. His love for her vaulted out of him.Who would ever know about his conflict of interests.
Now he made himself a cup of strong tea and rummaged through the bottom press beneath his desk for some chocolate biscuits. Those were the kind she liked Mcvities chocolate delight .
For a minute a slight hypocrisy engulfed him but things were different for one's mother weren't they
Sean Montcrief was not a man to suffer fools gladly or as he preferred to say himself lightly.He came from that old stable of trustworthiness reliability and hard work.His mother was a widow and had laboured long and hard with the state company an post She was a postwoma who could be seen regularly around the town of Ballybofey on her black ladies bicycle, her small five foot frame encumbered by a full calf length beige raincoat.She was swaddled in her weatherproofing she liked to remark to people who stopped her for a brief chat on main street.She never in her wildest dreams reckoned on a son who would become the leader of the nation some day.
Fair play was drilled into all her children but especiallly her youngest Sean for whom she had one might say a prevailing fondness, a bit like the westerlies that prevailed upon the town and its environs .Sometimes the wind was benign and had a calming aspect;sometimes it was more fierce but nonetheless always reliable .Her love had that kind of endurance he was to remember as she came back to him today of all days when he stood on the broad granite steps of Leinster house. Amid a welter of press photographers and journalists her slight ghost seemed to tickle his ear mildly, playfuly or was it the ides of March, those fickle winds which had brought him here to ensure that a government head and an oversized one at that was going to roll.
Jack O Leary minister for the environment had been found out at long last as many in the know night have said.Just who leaked what to the media might always remain a mystery but that was beside the point.Today Sean needed the whole country to see justice heaped on a large cold plate of right action with a side salad of integrity. Jack O leary was being asked to step down due to a conflict of interests. His having vested interests in Shannonside development not to mention other semi private agencies for years was an open secret in Daily Eireann. some night say a running sore on the taoiseachs butt. Finally he had his man and he felt the importance of it all strike him cold around the ears as he stood before the press .He wound his grey muffler around him tighter.He cleared his throat Ahem Mr O leary has been asked to step down from his office as minister for the environment due to a conflict of interests. Not having declared his shares with the afore mentioned company he has called into question the highest integrity of this office.
It was lamentable that the semi-state body had been given the tender to carry out extensive hydro repairs and further construction at this time.In due course more tenders would now be considered and by the close of day another minister would occupy the vacant seat.
On turning around he hurried back up the steps and vanished into the interior of the building.It was still early morning and the sunlight had vanished from his office when he stepped inside the door, glad to escape the prying eyes of his private secretary who was a close friend of jack o leary.
He pressed on the desk intercom Michael could you hold all calls please for fifteen minutes or so.He sat back quietly on his swivel chair and turned around to gaze out at the manicured lawns of Leinster house.Today was her anniversary .THAT MUST BE WHY HER IMPISH GHOST WAS TICKING HIM OFF from behind on the steps. But then again was it just that.? She'd been gone this past twenty years.No the memory could not evade him any longer. It willed itself to arrive at the base of his brain
His first year as a young county councillor was a difficult enough birth as he tried to grapple with his civic duties from decisions on town parking to new shopping and residential developments in the immediate area. BUT there was one civic duty he really wished to avoid which was judging the local writing competitions . He had tried to tell the other councilorrs that morning in a strangled tone about his retired mother she was a member of Ballybofey writers group but nobody else could be deployed to the town hall for this purpose it seemed and Hamish O grady the senior councillor had remarked "A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse young man."
Not wanting to get into bad standing with Hamish who could make or break his reputation he looked over the entries through gritted teeth.He recognised her entry right away without ever looking overleaf. Yes it was her poem alright .She had read it to him only a few night ago and yes it was quite good quite poignant in its way bit was it a worthy winner. His heart sank at the standard of the entries spread across his table. His mothersIS upturned face stood in front of him now and his heart let go of all his moral platitudes.Unhesitatingly he arranged the winning entries from third place up.In first place he placed his mothers entry The Leaving of Monaghan town.
He suddenly smiled to himself at the idea of her joy in winning.she who had never been selected before. His love for her vaulted out of him.Who would ever know about his conflict of interests.
Now he made himself a cup of strong tea and rummaged through the bottom press beneath his desk for some chocolate biscuits. Those were the kind she liked Mcvities chocolate delight .
For a minute a slight hypocrisy engulfed him but things were different for one's mother weren't they
Featured Entry by jellybean
Today is attic-cleaning day. A dreaded, terrible day. You’d think by thirty-five a more serious, logical fear might have developed to top this one. But, no. As I stood in the middle of the cluttered space, panic gripped me. Everything in me told me to run, to get out, to shut the door and mentally block myself from the space inside.
But, it had to be done. My husband insisted. He even offered to do it himself, but that option produced such a physical reaction that I almost threw up when he mentioned it. The sweet man didn’t understand—couldn’t understand—that this task was mine alone.
The cobwebs, musty air, and exposed fiberglass didn’t bother me, nor the evidence of a small creature’s nest in the corner. Rather, it was the piles around me that caused my legs to shake and eyes fill with tears.
Filling the entire room, stacked in large heaps, lay endless mountains of abandoned interests. Half-finished art projects, textbooks on obscure topics, tools for wood-working and gardening and shoe-cobbling. Thin, barely navigable, paths snaking through the large islands of forgotten hobbies.
At one point or the other, each of these items had sparked incredible curiosity and passion in me, to a point where I drove myself mad in pursuing mastery or understanding of them. Even now, I could feel the pull towards my current obsession, the neat set of calligraphy pens and thick-papered notebook I had already half-filled with beautiful script.
But these, evidence of the dying of each of those passions…I could barely look at them. A half‑painted ceramic hedgehog stared up at me from the ground, where it took shelter in most-of-a-quilt draped over a small keyboard tilted sideways. The little hedgehog’s pale blue eyes implored, how could you forget me? I let out a little sob and scooped him up from the floor, cradling him gently.
This was impossible. Absolutely impossible. What was I supposed to do with all of it? Throw it away? Even in my own panic I heard my husband’s patient voice: we’ll take them to charity, love. They’ll find new and happy homes with people who need them in their lives.
I breathed deeply. He asked me to do this. I could do it for him.
I looked over the mess, remembering the time in my life where each of these possessions had been central to my identity, royalty in a court of jesters. Right now, calligraphy wore the crown of reigning monarch. Tomorrow another might take its place.
I pictured a battlefield: different versions of myself warred, one dressed as a scientist, cracking a sword down on the shield of a bohemian artist while a muscular track star sprinted towards them. Scores of others fought in small skirmishes around them, a conflict of my own interests where the only prize was my lasting attention. Unobtainable.
Lost in the vision, I nearly caused a dangerous avalanche as I whirled when someone touched my shoulder. Teddy looked at me, eyes soft behind round glasses. “Babe,” his voice was quiet, his touch light.
My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. “I just can’t do it! I can’t accept that I’ve failed and given up on everything!” I blurted, burying my head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and the hedgehog I still held, rocking slightly side to side.
His chest moved as he let out a small chuckle. I pushed back from him, offended he would find my pain amusing. “What’s so funny?” I demanded, acid leaching into my tone.
He smiled his most charming smile and asked, “Is that really what you think? That you failed?” I looked down at my feet, my guilt overwhelming. “My love, these are not failures. You learn so much any time you take up something new. There’s nothing wrong with not becoming a professional painter when all you really want to do is dabble for a short time. There’s not a problem with only memorizing half a poem, or writing half a book.”
I looked up at him, his words a sudden cooling balm to the burning of shame I felt. “In fact, I rather prefer you as you are, with the endlessly varying and occasionally startling interests and hobbies. We just need more attic space, it’s as simple as that.”
I nodded slowly, one more issue looming in my mind. “But I’m never consistent, never stick with anything. Isn’t that a problem?”
Teddy reached out and gently took the ceramic hedgehog from me. “You’ve stuck with me, haven’t you?”
A small smile grew as I beheld him, one of my true passions in this life, the steady beat of my distracted heart. “Yes, I’ve stuck with you.”
“Then we can figure out the rest. Grab some paint, let’s start out by finishing up Mr. Hedgehog’s outfit. Then we’ll grab a bottle of wine and tackle this together.”
Calmness settled over me. We’ll tackle this together. Me and Teddy, the one true victor in the never ending conflict of my interests.
But, it had to be done. My husband insisted. He even offered to do it himself, but that option produced such a physical reaction that I almost threw up when he mentioned it. The sweet man didn’t understand—couldn’t understand—that this task was mine alone.
The cobwebs, musty air, and exposed fiberglass didn’t bother me, nor the evidence of a small creature’s nest in the corner. Rather, it was the piles around me that caused my legs to shake and eyes fill with tears.
Filling the entire room, stacked in large heaps, lay endless mountains of abandoned interests. Half-finished art projects, textbooks on obscure topics, tools for wood-working and gardening and shoe-cobbling. Thin, barely navigable, paths snaking through the large islands of forgotten hobbies.
At one point or the other, each of these items had sparked incredible curiosity and passion in me, to a point where I drove myself mad in pursuing mastery or understanding of them. Even now, I could feel the pull towards my current obsession, the neat set of calligraphy pens and thick-papered notebook I had already half-filled with beautiful script.
But these, evidence of the dying of each of those passions…I could barely look at them. A half‑painted ceramic hedgehog stared up at me from the ground, where it took shelter in most-of-a-quilt draped over a small keyboard tilted sideways. The little hedgehog’s pale blue eyes implored, how could you forget me? I let out a little sob and scooped him up from the floor, cradling him gently.
This was impossible. Absolutely impossible. What was I supposed to do with all of it? Throw it away? Even in my own panic I heard my husband’s patient voice: we’ll take them to charity, love. They’ll find new and happy homes with people who need them in their lives.
I breathed deeply. He asked me to do this. I could do it for him.
I looked over the mess, remembering the time in my life where each of these possessions had been central to my identity, royalty in a court of jesters. Right now, calligraphy wore the crown of reigning monarch. Tomorrow another might take its place.
I pictured a battlefield: different versions of myself warred, one dressed as a scientist, cracking a sword down on the shield of a bohemian artist while a muscular track star sprinted towards them. Scores of others fought in small skirmishes around them, a conflict of my own interests where the only prize was my lasting attention. Unobtainable.
Lost in the vision, I nearly caused a dangerous avalanche as I whirled when someone touched my shoulder. Teddy looked at me, eyes soft behind round glasses. “Babe,” his voice was quiet, his touch light.
My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. “I just can’t do it! I can’t accept that I’ve failed and given up on everything!” I blurted, burying my head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and the hedgehog I still held, rocking slightly side to side.
His chest moved as he let out a small chuckle. I pushed back from him, offended he would find my pain amusing. “What’s so funny?” I demanded, acid leaching into my tone.
He smiled his most charming smile and asked, “Is that really what you think? That you failed?” I looked down at my feet, my guilt overwhelming. “My love, these are not failures. You learn so much any time you take up something new. There’s nothing wrong with not becoming a professional painter when all you really want to do is dabble for a short time. There’s not a problem with only memorizing half a poem, or writing half a book.”
I looked up at him, his words a sudden cooling balm to the burning of shame I felt. “In fact, I rather prefer you as you are, with the endlessly varying and occasionally startling interests and hobbies. We just need more attic space, it’s as simple as that.”
I nodded slowly, one more issue looming in my mind. “But I’m never consistent, never stick with anything. Isn’t that a problem?”
Teddy reached out and gently took the ceramic hedgehog from me. “You’ve stuck with me, haven’t you?”
A small smile grew as I beheld him, one of my true passions in this life, the steady beat of my distracted heart. “Yes, I’ve stuck with you.”
“Then we can figure out the rest. Grab some paint, let’s start out by finishing up Mr. Hedgehog’s outfit. Then we’ll grab a bottle of wine and tackle this together.”
Calmness settled over me. We’ll tackle this together. Me and Teddy, the one true victor in the never ending conflict of my interests.
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