headed for the coat rack, situated between the recliner and the space between the front door, reaching for a black and grey blazer.
The darkness was silent for a moment, until it asked, “Where are you going?”
“You heard the ass wipe,” came Andrew’s determined reply. “I hear a beer calling me.”
“Are you so sure you should drink tonight?”
“Tonight I drink, Bari. Tonight I hear the music of Ralston Cooper, if you can call it music, and I don’t usually do that either. In fact, I never do that if I can help it. Dammit...I just need to get out, get away....” Marching towards the front door, Andrew paused, turned to the darkness, hesitated, then continued, “Bari...did my father know about you?”
“You’ve asked me that before, I gave you my answer.”
“What good is an answer you’ve made me forget? Everything I want to know about my father and who I am, you tell me it’s all been already answered by you, and that you’ll bring it back to my memory in due time, when the moment is meant to be. Fuck meant to be , fuck Ralston Cooper, and fuck you!”
“Yes, you must go,” Bari sighed. “Tonight is not the night for dwelling in this confusion of yours. Go, have a blast at this boozer emporium of yours. And for heaven’s sake and all the saints, meet someone.”
Andrew was at the front door, on his way out the front door, was about to slam the front door: when someone gives you what for and ends it with a fuck you , you wouldn’t expect him to say very much more before he heads out, even if he was an innocent, clean-cut vessel of a twenty-something kid personality like Andrew Erlandson.
“You can’t be serious,” he wheezed. “You don’t want me to be with anyone besides you. What do you mean, meet someone ? Bari...what are you saying?”
Bari was unmoving and quiet as her companion lightly closed the front door, stepped close, closer and then closer still until she could smell the eternal aroma of his breath penetrating the gentle expanse of her presence.
Like a son.
Like a lover.
And Andrew could feel her understanding, her compassion, even in the midst of the chill of the apartment’s inner hallway. He heard himself utter, tenderly, “Bari...show me your eyes again, show me your beautiful eyes.”
Just as the orange streams of the bathroom nightlight reflected from his pupils in the cloudiness of the bathroom mirror, the dual glows appeared. There, before him, hovered the lambent orbs of the presence...a presence not unlike his own, but at the same time a presence alien to him.
A welcomed, familiar presence.
“Go now,” whispered this presence, so sweet, so soothing, “for tonight may very well be a night of nights, young one. A night of destiny. Soon, you shall become as new. Soon, yes, in time.”
The eyes disappeared then into empty darkness, leaving only the wispy remnants of a swirling breeze of warmth.
Wondering, as usual, what Bari had meant, Andrew clenched his blazer tight against him and commenced his departure out the front door, this time his spirits free of forgotten hostility.
The being within the hallway retreated into the bedroom, for but to catch sight of her young one as he would minutes later stroll across the sidewalk three stories below and disappear down the darkness of the nighttime street towards The Crow Job .
7.
The Watchmaid Bari
Empty shades of night idled upon the tenebrous presence within Andrew Erlandson’s apartment’s hallway.
The Watchmaid remained there, unmoving. She enjoyed the stillness of the apartment, hushed with the exception of the systematic ticking of the living room wall clock. Often, she considered this solitary sound welcomed and even necessary.
It reminded her of her whereabouts.
It reminded her of her duties.
It reminded her of time.
And time always reminded her of the days when she was human, when she had been but a young woman Andrew’s age, many
The darkness was silent for a moment, until it asked, “Where are you going?”
“You heard the ass wipe,” came Andrew’s determined reply. “I hear a beer calling me.”
“Are you so sure you should drink tonight?”
“Tonight I drink, Bari. Tonight I hear the music of Ralston Cooper, if you can call it music, and I don’t usually do that either. In fact, I never do that if I can help it. Dammit...I just need to get out, get away....” Marching towards the front door, Andrew paused, turned to the darkness, hesitated, then continued, “Bari...did my father know about you?”
“You’ve asked me that before, I gave you my answer.”
“What good is an answer you’ve made me forget? Everything I want to know about my father and who I am, you tell me it’s all been already answered by you, and that you’ll bring it back to my memory in due time, when the moment is meant to be. Fuck meant to be , fuck Ralston Cooper, and fuck you!”
“Yes, you must go,” Bari sighed. “Tonight is not the night for dwelling in this confusion of yours. Go, have a blast at this boozer emporium of yours. And for heaven’s sake and all the saints, meet someone.”
Andrew was at the front door, on his way out the front door, was about to slam the front door: when someone gives you what for and ends it with a fuck you , you wouldn’t expect him to say very much more before he heads out, even if he was an innocent, clean-cut vessel of a twenty-something kid personality like Andrew Erlandson.
“You can’t be serious,” he wheezed. “You don’t want me to be with anyone besides you. What do you mean, meet someone ? Bari...what are you saying?”
Bari was unmoving and quiet as her companion lightly closed the front door, stepped close, closer and then closer still until she could smell the eternal aroma of his breath penetrating the gentle expanse of her presence.
Like a son.
Like a lover.
And Andrew could feel her understanding, her compassion, even in the midst of the chill of the apartment’s inner hallway. He heard himself utter, tenderly, “Bari...show me your eyes again, show me your beautiful eyes.”
Just as the orange streams of the bathroom nightlight reflected from his pupils in the cloudiness of the bathroom mirror, the dual glows appeared. There, before him, hovered the lambent orbs of the presence...a presence not unlike his own, but at the same time a presence alien to him.
A welcomed, familiar presence.
“Go now,” whispered this presence, so sweet, so soothing, “for tonight may very well be a night of nights, young one. A night of destiny. Soon, you shall become as new. Soon, yes, in time.”
The eyes disappeared then into empty darkness, leaving only the wispy remnants of a swirling breeze of warmth.
Wondering, as usual, what Bari had meant, Andrew clenched his blazer tight against him and commenced his departure out the front door, this time his spirits free of forgotten hostility.
The being within the hallway retreated into the bedroom, for but to catch sight of her young one as he would minutes later stroll across the sidewalk three stories below and disappear down the darkness of the nighttime street towards The Crow Job .
7.
The Watchmaid Bari
Empty shades of night idled upon the tenebrous presence within Andrew Erlandson’s apartment’s hallway.
The Watchmaid remained there, unmoving. She enjoyed the stillness of the apartment, hushed with the exception of the systematic ticking of the living room wall clock. Often, she considered this solitary sound welcomed and even necessary.
It reminded her of her whereabouts.
It reminded her of her duties.
It reminded her of time.
And time always reminded her of the days when she was human, when she had been but a young woman Andrew’s age, many
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