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Sunday, December 8, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 9

Everything in my brain is telling me not to take the room, but when George asks me if I wanted to take it I answer with an enthusiastic “Yes!” 

“Good, Good,” George mumbles sliding one hand around my shoulder drawing me in closer to him.  We would look like two old friends to anyone who would see us like this on the street.

“So you’ll be moving in this weekend?” George asks walking me towards the staircase. “Sure, sure,” I respond as we climb onto the landing. George pauses, then stops and takes a step back down the stairs to turn out the lights in. I climb the stairs and pause to take one more look out the window at the swimming pool. I have it already planned that I will be spending most of my days lying by it.

Standing on the other side of the glass, getting ready to get into the pool is a guy in his early twenties. His hair is cut short, dark and it’s slightly wavy. He is wearing a pair of cut off blue jean shorts and a tank t-shirt with red stripes on it. On his upper lip sits a thin little moustache. He reaches down, grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and slides it over his head. Just as the t-shirt comes off, our eyes meet and he flashes me a dazzling smile. I can see a twinkle in his brown eyes as he turns around; he grabs the waist of his shorts and drops them to his ankles. Under his shorts, he is wearing nothing. He turns back over his shoulder, smiles at me and walks to the pool.

“You like the pool?” George asks as he steps behind me. I pause and swallow deeply. “Yes, yes I do.” I stammer.

From where I am standing the boy with the moustache comes into view. He is waist deep in the water, the sun reflecting off his smile.

“Ah!” Says George.  He begins to rap on the window. The boy in the pool turns to look around for the knocking sound. “That’s my boyfriend Freddie.” George squeals like a schoolgirl. The boy raises his hand and waves at George. The difference in their age is easily forty plus years.

George swings open the door to the backyard and leaves me standing in the dark stairway. “Wait right here, I just want to say hello! He literally runs through the door to get to Freddie.

Bill saunters down the steps from the kitchen a stalk of celery in one hand and his robe draped around his shoulders. “God, I hate that cunt.” Bill says crunching off a big section of the celery. “George?” I ask still looking out the window. “Well yes, him too!  But I really hate the new Mrs. George Thurgood the third!” Bill uses the end of the celery and raps it on the window to drive the point home. “He got all my furs, jewelry and my easy life. I hate him.”

Bill pauses and looks like he’s reflecting in the past. He then sighs “Just wait, there will be a new one in a couple of weeks.” With that said, Bill continues down the stairs into the basement. “See you this weekend.” He yells back over his shoulder without ever looking up.

“How does he know?” I ask myself.

To be continued…

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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