SOMETHING MORE COMFORTABLE

“What kind of mother am I?” Mrs. McGuire leaned over her little Alvin and wept softly. Soap opera dialogue. Wringing her emotions. Like a dish cloth. After all those old memories have been. Wrung out.

Little Alvin. Like the Sun King in his stroller. Tried to keep his eye on the monitor that hung from the ceiling. Like the sun hangs from the sky. There was an infomercial on. Advertising the awful effects of eczema. It reminded Alvin that his diaper was wet. And he had a rash.

“Oh, I think you’re exaggerating,” a booming voice from behind her said.

Mrs. McGuire looked up through the haze in her eyes. Like the moon through the early morning mist. She wiped her eyes with the stolen tissue in hand. Moments before, she had grabbed a box of tissues off the shelves and helped herself. Was this theft? The moral issue had never risen. Perhaps it had been overwhelmed by her grief. Perhaps because she hadn’t arrived at the cashier’s counter yet. The drug store had advertised their shop as a home.

Her vision began to clear. Before her. Everest, a tall man with white hair, a white beard, and glasses that looked like a set of televisions on his nose. The tall man was dressed in a white suit. The whole effect was quite blinding. Where were the local baggage holders? Alvin too had been affected. He’d forgotten about his diaper rash. A bubble of spit rose in his teeth and exploded over his lips. Another universe had seen its day. Come and go.

“What?” Mrs. McGuire asked.

Everest took Mrs. McGuire’s hand in his and raised her to her feet. My, but he had soft hands. She smiled. It had been done with such authority and grace that Mrs. McGuire felt immediately comfortable.

“They call me Everest,” he said. A voice like satin. That seemed to say that he’d spoken these words before. Perhaps in a previous life time. Perhaps in the lyrics of a song.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m… “ Mrs. McGuire hesitated for a moment. Should she tell this gallant gentleman that she was married? And what would be the point of that? Everything innocent here.

“I am Edna McGuire.” She hadn’t spoken her first name in years. Always Missus. Time flies.

Everest looked down at Alvin. His hands reached over like an avalanche. But Alvin never winced. Little Boots in a previous commercial. Everest touched the blond flock of hair on the child’s head with the tips of his fingers.

“This is my son,” Edna said. Could she have been prouder?

Everest smiled. Edna McGuire’s hand was still in his. He placed his free hand over her free hand.

“Your skin is so soft.” Everest smiled. His eyes like pillows. Made you want to suffocate underneath his touch.

Mrs. McGuire smiled. “I use butter on my skin. None of that polyunsaturated for me.”

“Butter? That’s unusual. But there’s no arguing with the results. You have a dancer’s hands.”

“A dancer’s?”

“Oh yes. The hands are very important to a dancer. They reach out for her partner. They seduce the rhythm out of his veins. Yes, the hands are very important. As are the eyes.”

Edna McGuire giggled.

“Do I have dancer’s eyes?”

Everest leaned forward, his lips almost in range for a kiss as he looked into Edna’s eyes. He smiled.

“Ah, yes,” he said pulling away. “You have dancer’s eyes. And a dancer’s eyes tells you much about the thighs.”

“Eyes and thighs?” Edna laughed. A flush appeared on her cheeks. Her knees felt like they might buckle. Under the weight of so much flattery. God, wouldn’t a glass of gin slide down. So easily.

“Both have to hold her partner’s… attention.” Everest’s face was so large. Like the sky taken up with that navy blue.

Edna blushed and looked away.

“You are flirting with me, sir,” she said.

Everest smiled. For a moment he said nothing.

“Do you dance?” he asked.

Edna shook her head.

“Then we shall have to teach you.”

“Here?”

“Here is all we have. Darling.” And cupped one of his large hands on the small of her back.

And Edna felt like slipping into something more… comfortable.