Brian and Christine
He leaned back in his chair and said to himself, I’m angry that I have to be away from my home in order to avoid someone I love. I’m angry that Launce Lojak doesn’t want to do my film. I’m angry at Mother Magda and her whole bag of perverts. I’m angry that I had to lose some of my toes. I’m angry at the Buffalo Gap troll brains. I’m angry that the badness of the world is getting in the way of the goodness. I’m angry that I’m tired and want to fold everything up and just go away. I’m angry at the whole damn world!
Brian got up and went out for a walk. He walked for a long time down unfamiliar streets, not looking at houses or anything, just staring in front of him trying to think clearly instead of just fume with rage.
He came to a big park with pathways, trees and benches. He sat down on a bench and lit up a cigarette. While he was sitting there a woman came along pushing a baby carriage preceded by a young girl, much younger than Christy, about 6 or 7, Brian guessed. The girl was doing cartwheels, and doing them very well. She did one right in front of Brian.
“You’re very good at that” he said.
“What’s your name?”
“Jane,” Saint Jane, Brian thought. The real Saint Jane. “Is that your Mommy?”
The woman with the carriage was approaching with a concerned look on her face. Brian waved at her. “Hi Mom” he said.
“Jane, do you do cartwheels in school?”
“You enjoy it?”
“Uh huh. It’s fun.”
“Who’s in the baby carriage?”
“That’s my brother, Tommy. He’s brand new.”
“Well, you keep learning acrobatics because it’s a good thing to know. Maybe someday you’ll be in the Olympics.”
“Don’t talk to strange men.”
The mother was standing and listening. She was smiling.
“Thanks, Mom” said Brian.
They moved on.
(To be continued.)