I leafed through one of the many magazines that seem to appear for no apparent reason around my home. Occasionally I took a sip of the tea that sat beside me. I couldn’t hear my butler Albert. So I knew he was here.
At my usual station, my dear, and ardently awaiting your wishes.
“Albert.” said I.
“Madam?” came his reply. I’d long since ceased to prevail upon him to pronounce the word à la française.
You had finished sipping your tea the way you do in sweet, nearly inaudible chirps.
“I’ve finished.”
“Very well, Madam.” Albert replied. And he crossed slowly, stiffly taking the cup and saucer from the table beside me. How he had slowed those previous years! It was almost intolerable!
“Would Madam care for—“
“No.” I interrupted.
Nothing so ignites my feelings as her speaking over my words.
Albert exited at the speed of stone. But then I felt dozy.
“Albert!”
I hadn’t gone but three steps beyond the door. Then I pause. It increases her impatience whilst waiting to reappear, devoted and at her beck and call.
Perhaps as much as a minute later, Albert reappeared in the doorway.
“Yes, Madam? You called?”
“I feel like taking a short nap. What time is it?”
Albert paused.
Let us speak of sleep and chambers in the colors of your whims.
Albert pulled his usual timepiece from the usual pocket.
Yes. We’ll play at this, our game.
“It's four fif--”
“Prepare the bed…”
Ah!
“…mauve room, Albert. It's firmer than the one in the blue room where I slept last night.”
“A bridegroom. Very well, Madam. Right away.”
“A bridegroom? Oh, Albert, must you forever dredge up that episode? It was so many years ago. I have asked that you not speak of it. Can't you remember? Some episodes are better left unmentioned. Thus, I'll ask that you not to bring that one up any longer. What good does it do in the end, Albert, to evoke painful memories of times better left forgotten? Albert?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Of course I understand the reproach that some, perhaps you are among them, Albert, might wish to direct my way even today. But I continue to believe it was for the best, the way things worked out between my betrothed and myself. Yes. I believe that with all my heart.”
Albert turned and was gone.
“Albert!”
He reappeared in the doorway with the tea still in tow.
“Yes, Madam? You called?”
“You still haven't told me what time it is.”
“Ah! I beg your pardon, Madam.”
The timepiece reappeared from his pocket.
“Excuse me, Albert?”
I repeated myself as was often required when addressing Albert.
“I beg your pardon, Madam.”
“Albert, you know that I like to have an answer when I ask a question. How many times have I told you that I like to have an answer when I ask a question?”
“At the very least, three—“
“At the very least, three thousand times, wouldn't you say?”
“Yes, Madam.” At the very least.”
“Well then!!
“ I beg your pardon, Madam. I'll have that answer for you Brighton Island.”
He consults his timepiece.”
“Brighton Island? Albert I really don't comprehend why you must continually return to that subject! Didn't I beg you, how long ago was it?”
“At the very most—“
“At the very most three minutes ago, wouldn't you say?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“…not to discuss that episode of our lives in my presence. What good does it do? Will you be left, any less, on the island, confused and alone, in your tails, with the ring, and the minister waiting? Will I, any less, be gone with the wind, on a yacht, with my Gerald at the helm?”
“It is—“
I suddenly noticed that my tea was no longer on the table beside me.
“Albert, where is my cup?”
“I removed it, Madam.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I removed it, Madam.”
“There is no need to raise your voice. I am not deaf, Albert!”
“No, Madam, you are not deaf. I beg your pardon.”
“Excuse me?”
“I beg your pardon, Madam.”
“Then where is my cup?”
“Here, Madam.”
“Here? Where? Here? Where?”
“Here in my left hand, Madam.”
“Ah! Over there! Not here! Over there in your right hand!”
“That's right, Madam.”
“I am here.” And you, you are--
“Over there.”
“That's right.”
“Indeed, Madam. You are here and I am over there.”
“With my cup!
“Madam had finished.”
“Finished? What time is it?”
He pulls his timepiece from his pocket.
“It's four seven--
“I never finish my tea before quarter past five.”
He said nothing.
“Would Madam like some more--”
“Oh my, my, my.” I was yawning. “I'm beginning to feel a bit sleepy. Perhaps I'll take a brief nap.”
“Very well, Madam.”
“Would you be so kind as to prepare the bed in the beige bedroom, Albert?”
“The beige bedroom? Not the—“
“The beige bedroom! Are you deaf?” He doesn't answer. “You don't answer!! How many times must I repeat that I don't like not having my questions answered, Albert?”
“At the very least, three—“
“At the very least, three thousand, wouldn't you say?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“What time is it?”
He consults his timepiece.
“It's something something...”
“Ah! Then I'll have another small cup of tea, Albert. I finished the first one so fast! Bring me another, won't you?”
“Very well, Madam.”
He exited. I began to leaf through her magazine but may have dozed off. When I reawoke, Albert had spread a coverlet across my lap and returned to his station where he stood motionless, head bowed.
Intriguing...
ReplyDeleteA daring play with Point of View. It's easy to follow, so there's no confusion. I particularly like the difference between Albert's internal monologue and his spoken responses to Madam. I also like how the use of just two words, "bridegroom" and "Brighton Island," in conjunction with Madam's reaction (though she reveals little more about the meaning) evoke another time, place and story within the story.
"The colors of your whims" nicely reflected in her bedroom choices.