Chapter 5
Like
"One Life, and Why Not Live It?" - Jack London
She had woken up with every intention of seeing the sunrise. Instead, cloudy skies greeted her blood shot eyes. Blood shot because she had spent most of the night being unable to sleep. For the coming dawn meant the coming day, and which would signal soon, the appearance of her new friend.
It was Saturday. And he had promised to take her riding.
She stretched and smiled. For gloomy as it was outside, within her soul there was a sun shining brightly. You could see it in her hazel eyes. Eyes that danced. And mouth which could form a smile like a river can form a brilliant canyon. She was - certainly if not in love - deep, deep, in like.
Pouring over "The Son of the Wolf", Charmian saw past every word, was driven deeper into the story...she disappeared within the pages of his collection of northland tales. She joined the Malamute Kid and Ruth as they urged their dog-sled team through the frost and bitter cold. She shivered with the nameless man who thought he'd out wit even his dog - while he was starving and dying - his dog was too smart to stay anywhere near his starving finger tips...and the dog ran away to safety.
She joined the wilderness trail - and was there - panning for gold and hunting deer. Adventuring into the wilds where no one could claim ever being before. She began to feel, within, a connection to this - oyster pirate.
She was getting to know the man through his words.
Forget "like".
She was falling in love.
"Charmian!", said Netta.
"WHAT!!! You don't have to scream from the stair well, aunt, I'm not deaf yet."
"Jack isn't here. When do you think he'll be here? Do you think he misplaced his calendar?"
"Funny. I thought I was the one he had a date with."
"Oh, silly, Jack is everybody's date. You're just -"
"I'm just what???"
"The lucky girl who gets him today."
"We'll see."
"If you play your cards right, he should fall helplessly in love with you, and take you up with him - "
"If YOU play YOUR cards right," Charmian said, "you'll have a rich successful nephew-in-law writer whom you can proudly say owes to YOU all that richness and success."
"Of course. I have no such pretensions for anything else, my dear."
Charmian smiled, and rose from her bed to walk to her aunt and greet her with a kiss.
"And that is why I love you," Charmian said, "no one is - at the same time - diabolical AND as honest about it as you."
"Miss Kittridge!", came a shout.
"I wish Hannah wouldn't do that," said Netta.
"I wish BOTH of you wouldn't do that," said Charmian.
"What, Hannah?", said Netta, as she went half way down the stairs to meet Hannah, on her way up.
"Messenger just arrived," Hannah handed over two letters to Netta.
Netta saw one for Charmian, and one addressed to herself.
"Oh, how nice...from Jack."
She climbed back up the stairs. Entered Charmian's room, as Charmian was getting dressed.
"For you," said Netta, handing the letter addressed to Charmian.
"Don't you people knock?", asked Charmian, taking the letter from Netta's hand.
"You're welcome", said Netta, as she turned about and headed back out of the room, opening her own letter.
Charmian walked to her day window. Sat down. Leaned against the wall, opened her letter.
And this is what she read:
"Dear Charmian, it will be impossible for me to keep this Saturday's engagement. My letter to your aunt will explain..."
Suddenly, like the planet Mars was streaking through her home, Charmian could hear Netta screaming from down below.
Charmian continued...
"Sometime in the future, perhaps. Sincerely, Jack London."
The letter slipped through her fingers and whether it ever landed or not Charmian could have cared less. Her heart, on the other hand, fell downward into a pit which was named, "again."
"Oh....well....", she softly spoke into her shattered hopes.
Moments later, Netta was stumbling up the stairs, shaking. She shaked across the stair well and she shaked as she opened Charmian's bedroom door. She shaked as she handed the letter to Charmian. With reluctance, Charmian took, read, and let it fall to the floor.
This is what it said:
"My dear Mrs. Eames, I must beg off from going to your place Saturday. You know I do things quickly. Last Saturday I met with your niece Charmian. Sunday morning I had not the slightest intention of doing what I am going to do. By afternoon the idea came, and I made up my mind. By evening I began the search for a mate. Monday the quest was well under way, and thus, this Saturday morning I shall wed, Bess Madern. One only has one life, and why not live it? Besides, I shall be a wholesome man because of this marital restraint. Sincerely yours, Jack London."
Charmian sighed.
Netta paced. She was beside herself. How could she do this to her? "I mean Charmian!", she said out loud.
"Whom are you speaking too?", asked Charmian.
"I meant, how could he do this to YOU."
"He did. It's done."
"How can you be taking this so calm?"
"Experience. Learned long ago that being frantic - like you right now - doesn't do a whole lot of good. Not in the long run...not in the...", she sat on the edge of the bed...staring blankly at nothing in particular.
"He's crazy!", said Netta. "A sensible, considered marriage for a creative genius like that!"
More pacing.
"One life - and why not live it? Marrying in cold blood is living life? Ha! Crazy like a March Hare, I tell you!"
"Netta, Netta", Charmian sighed, collapsing backwards on the bed, "he's saner than most."
"He thinks he is."
"Or thinks he is. He's simply directing his madness into what he perceives are practical channels."
Netta stopped at the doorway. Arms crossed. Fuming.
"There is NOTHING practical, it seems...about Jack Lon-"
"Mrs. Eames!", came Hannah's voice.
"What???", shouted both Netta and Charmian.
"Mr. London is at the door. He's with a woman."
Netta and Charmian exchanged glances.
"Is that all?," Netta tried to sound casual.
"No mum. She's dressed very nice and she's very pretty."
Charmian growled.
Netta sighed.
Heading to the stairs Netta muttered, "Nothing practical at all."
* * *
She had fallen in love with his words. They took her to places she had never been before. The men with starched collars and degrees never took her to such places. But they were men - she justified - who had real careers and reality written across their bleak, shallow souls. They had steady careers, and not - a Bohemian one. She could love them for what she saw in that land of what she perceived as reality. Stability. All together security.
Jack, well, he was just about words. She had fallen (she told herself one thousand nine hundred eighty two times) in love with his words. He was a wordsmith, nothing more than that. And she was very, very, very glad she had not fallen and made the mistake of her life. Now, he was someone's else's nightmare.
Pity for Bess, Charmian felt.
At the top of the staircase, she could see Netta greeting Jack and Bess at the door. Charmian sighed again. And let the agony - she hoped it would feel more like relief - escape her soul, her chest, and escape from out of the disappointment of her mouth.
She had been down this road too often. What was this thing about artists?
To the gallows with them all.
* * *
"I heard you were getting married today," Netta said to Jack, as collected as any woman inwardly going out of her mind. Outwardly, Netta could be as generous and polite as any lady - as any lady needed to be who was a professional working in a man's world. She could play all parts.
Charmian inched slowly down the staircase. Stopping a quarter way down. Watching. Maybe, somehow, if she stared long and hard enough, she could reach some conclusion as to the soul of this person who now was invading her space. This person who dared show up and interrupt their comfortable lives and make a mockery of it all.
She wasn't thinking about Jack.
She was thinking about Bess.
"We are getting married today," said Jack.
"How nice," said Netta. Steam rising from her ears. She brushed it away with a toss of her head.
"Later this afternoon. First, Bessie and I thought - "
"Bessie?", thought Charmian. "BESSIE????"
"- we'd go for a morning ride. I mentioned my meeting with Miss Kittridge -"
"And so now it's 'Miss Kittridge'", thought Charmian.
"- for a possible ride, and mentioned how things change, and then Bessie thought, well, let's go over and see them both!"
"A woman with a death wish," thought Charmian.
"For a few moments," said Bess, rather too cheerfully for Charmian and Netta's tastes, "we don't wish to upset your plans."
Charmian came downstairs on that one.
"Oh, no," Charmian said, airily, "none at all. Why, Mr. London! Was today the day? Oh, silly me. I was all set for working in the dirt and trimming rose bushes. Weren't we just going to do that, my dear Mrs. Eames - I mean, auntie?"
Moments later.
Charmian wanted to know more. Let discovery, followed by knowledge, and possibly earn a gleam as to what happened from last Saturday to this Saturday. Allow Jack and that woman to hang around for a few minutes. She wanted them to stay, so she could pierce their souls and find out, exactly, what caused all this - madness to come about.
Outside they were.
Bess helping Netta with rose trimming, nearby, Jack adjusting his bike (they had ridden up in bikes), and Charmian pretending to be helping Jack.
Charmian just - stared at him.
Jack was male but he wasn't completely stupid. He could feel something wasn't right. The feeling was coming from Charmian. Hmmm, thought Jack, perhaps it was his stories?
More silent moments.
Which was making Jack uncomfortable.
"Good," thought Charmian. He looked uncomfortable. He SHOULD be uncomfortable.
Aforementioned, Jack was not stupid. He knew there was something on her mind. And was just about ready to burst and demand to know what it was all about - just as much as Charmian wanted to burst out at him (possibly with her fists).
"Okay. Fine," he felt, "tell me how really awful my
Finally...
As nonchalantly as she possibly could, she asked, "How long have you been in love?"
Jack's impatience, and stress, disappeared. He was so relieved for so simple a question.
"Oh," he said with boyish smile, "I don't love her."
And now Charmian was stressed.
With all of her education, life experiences, culture, the only response she had as a rejoinder was, "huh?"
"You see," said Jack, digging himself deeper, "it has to with science."
No response from Charmian. Perhaps, thought Jack, she wasn't getting it. He continued, "A scientific marriage. Based on scientific principles. Based upon the principle of what is good for the race. What it is not based on are the silly notions that blind the -"
Charmian waved her hand to stop his speech.
"Does she know you don't love her?"
"Of course," said Jack. And then, thinking this would solve all issues, answer all questions, solve all mysteries, "but I LIKE her."
Charmian straightened up. Backed away. Her feeling - that perhaps - the starched collar guys didn't look so bad after all.
She disappeared into her aunt's house. Couldn't remember walking up the stair way nor into her room. Walked to the window. Saw Jack and Bess climb aboard their bikes, and ride away... she turned, collapsed onto the window seat, and melted away into tears.
