Where Fools Dare to Tread

by David William Pearce

  I watched as she cleared the table, and cleaned the plates. I poured the two of us another glass of wine. As a rule I try not to let too many idle thoughts crawl through my head. It serves no purpose other than to complicate matters. It was obvious Agnes liked me; just as it was obvious she was struggling not to come off as rushing things, or asking too many personal questions. It was probably best not to push the Simon issue. If she wanted to talk about it fine, if not, then I wouldn’t bring it up. Still, I have a natural interest in people’s lives. Makes figuring them out easier, and Simon might explain a lot about Agnes.

  I made sure the wine followed us back to the living room. This time we settled onto the sofa. Agnes turned to me.

  “So how was your day?”

  Hmmm, what to say?

  “My day. Well, I met the always-loquacious Mr. Jones. We went to Hollywood to talk to a distrustful transgendered woman about a missing ex-porn star. Then I ran an errand to pick up some papers from a rich woman whose husband has, apparently, gone missing. Kind of a quiet day, all things considered. You?”

  “I spent the day cleaning and not over thinking things.”

  “Over thinking what?”

  “Things. Your day sounds more interesting.”

  “Maybe if I’d actually learned something. I’m thinking detective work isn’t my calling.”

  “At least you’re willing to try. Mr. Jones isn’t bad once you get to know him. In fact, he’s really a big teddy bear. He just does the badass thing to help business. We should go hear his guys play; they’re very good, very soulful.” I was trying to imagine Jones as a teddy bear. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did the woman look? Was she passable? I’ve always been curious. Simon knew a number of transvestites, performers, some of whom looked just like a woman. Did she have big tits?” She wiggled hers as she said this. The wine was getting to me. All I could think of were her beautiful breasts.

  “Um… I didn’t look that close, but she looked like a woman to me. She was tall and thin with blond hair and small breasts.”

  “That’s probably good. These things tend to draw the wrong crowd.” She shook them again for effect or to see if I was paying attention. I was.

  “I’ll try to behave, but they are quite lovely.” Every woman loves to hear that.

  “And the rich woman, did she have big tits?” Agnes seemed to have a thing for big tits.

  “Well, I wasn’t there to socialize or to ogle, but no, she didn’t have big tits either. I’m afraid you’re it.” She was loosening up; I got a laugh out of that.

  “It’s nice to stand out in a crowd.”

  “I’m not going to complain.” I took a drink of wine. “Now that we’re relaxed, why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

  “Like what?” She was still smiling, so I assume we were good.

  “Oh, like how long have you worked for Dulcimer? What were you like as a child? Did your ex spend a lot of time with transvestites? Why were you nervous when I came over, stuff like that. No pressure.” Now I was smiling.

  “Tell you what, why don’t you go first. That way I’ll know what to own up to and what to omit, just in case there’s a get together after this.”

  I took a deep breath and started babbling.

  “If you must know, I’m a self-professed nobody. Before that I was a co-op farmer, supplying fresh produce to high-end restaurants and stores. Before that, I was born and grew up on a farm run by a group of freaks led by my father. My parents were both from deeply conservative Christian families and both rebelled in their teens. My mother left when I was ten after my father started sleeping with another woman. I fell in love with a girl named Astral when I was seventeen; we had a daughter, and then fled to the east coast after I had a fateful encounter with the local pushers. After my relationship with Astral fell apart, I decided to make a fresh start as no one in particular and ended up out here. Your turn.”

  “Wait. I have a few questions.”

  “You only get two.”

  “Two? I don’t think that’s fair, but all right. What happened with Astral, and why would you want to be a nobody?”

  “Good questions.” As a theatrical move, I rubbed my chin for effect. “The Astral question is the easiest, and perhaps the more painful. My mother, after having rebelled, decided that she missed God and went back to the church. Astral and I needed someplace safe to raise Rebekah, that’s my daughter; she was named after my mother against my wishes. So we moved to Virginia. My mother agreed to take us in with a few provisos. One, we had to go to church, and two, we had to get married. We did the first thing, which ultimately split us apart because Astral took to it far more than I did. We never officially got married, but made vows to each other in the church. For a while, that was good enough. We were together for almost twenty years. But like a lot of people who get together young, we grew apart. She wanted me to be more devout and I wanted to be left alone. She met a man at church that she wanted to be with, and long story short, now she is.”

  “And the nobody part?”

  “That’s just code for my personal philosophy. I don’t feel the need to be anybody anymore. I’m perfectly happy being a nobody. I’m not interested in being rich or famous or even remembered. I’m comfortable living day-to-day, enjoying life for what it is, not what society thinks it ought to be. I have enough money to do what I want, and I live a frugal enough existence so that if I want to spend the week at the beach or reading or roaming the land, I have the freedom to do that. It’s cost me some relationships because women are suspicious of what that means or want a man who is more ambitious. That’s ok. There are plenty of guys like that out there. I’m just not that guy. I hope you don’t find that too disappointing.”

  Agnes rubbed her chin to mock me.

  “I know you said I only get two questions, but I have another, how about a gimme?”

  “Alright, but only one. I think you’re avoiding your turn.”

  “Oh, I would never do that, and I’m serious here; are you comfortable with your sexuality, and are you a player? I have good reasons to ask, but I need to know before we go any further.” That anxious look had returned.

  “Interesting. The answer is yes, and no. Now you have to explain your question.”

  Agnes’s eyes glistened and the light in them danced as she began to speak. “Where to start. I had a speech all ready, but I’m not very good at talking about myself, mainly because it’s embarrassing.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out right. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s ok.”

  “No, I shouldn’t be afraid to bring it up. It is what it is. I want this to be a fun evening, but I get nervous sometimes.” At least she was smiling.

  “There’s no reason to be nervous around me. I’m a nobody remember.”

  “I remember, but you seem like a really nice nobody. I had a wonderful time the other night and I wanted to find out if it was real or if I was hallucinating. And you didn’t answer the phone when I called about you coming over, so I didn’t know if you really wanted to or if it was just a sex thing. I don’t know. Anyway, I had a perfectly normal childhood; at least that’s how I prefer to remember it. I met Simon in school. He was very attractive, smart, athletic, funny. We got married right out of high school and I thought we were living a perfectly normal life. I mean I didn’t have any complaints. I would have liked a little more sex but I didn’t know any better. We had two kids, a boy and a girl, Barron and Anna. Simon was busy; he worked a lot of nights being in the restaurant business and I assumed he was tired, but it turned out he was seeing someone else.”

  She paused, looking out towards the living room window.

/>   “He told me he was confused and needed time to work things out. I was confused as well. He was involved with a cabaret performer, a man named Eric, whose stage name was Penelope. Apparently, he’d always been attracted to men, but he told me he liked women too. I was stunned. It was like the world stopped turning. I didn’t know what to do. We tried to keep things going, but his heart wasn’t in it. About that time I met MaryAnn at a counseling session. Her son is gay. She took me to Johnny’s for a drink, and that where I met him. We’d meet for drinks to commiserate about our disappointments. After Simon left, I needed a job, and Johnny said I could work for him. He also helped me get this house. He’s been a godsend.”

  “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  She genuinely laughed at that.

  “Oh, there’s more. After being dumped by my gay ex-husband, I made things worse by dating a guy fifteen years younger than me, Jordan. He was cute and he did like sex with women, but he also liked sleeping around. Nobody liked him. Not my kids, not MaryAnn; even Johnny expressed concern, but I wouldn’t listen. I needed to be loved and desired and so what if he was a little unfaithful and a liar. It wasn’t ‘til he tried to sleep with my daughter that it all came crashing down. She left to live with Simon. My son left for the Army. Even MaryAnn was mad at me for a while. Johnny said he knew what people were like and I should listen to him.” Agnes put her hand on my face. “I asked him about you, you know.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you! Anyway, for a long time I hid out in the bar, staying safe with Rey and MaryAnn, but I was lonely. I haven’t had a steady date in more than two years. I thought you were interesting, so I asked Johnny what he thought. He said I could do worse. I have done worse. That makes me nervous.” She took my hand and held it in hers. “I’m anxious because I like you, because I’m lonely, because you like to dance, because you’re fun to talk to, because you made me breakfast. But I don’t want to scare you away or weird you out or seem like I’m totally desperate. How’s that.”

  “It’s enough.” She was sweet and yeah, she was a little desperate, but I didn’t mind. I needed a steady date too. I leaned in and kissed her, and when she kissed back, we slid onto the sofa in our mad embrace.

  “Will you make me breakfast in the morning?”

  “Only if you let me stay the night.”

  “It’s a date.”

  We rolled off the sofa and made our way to the bedroom.

  12

  Our second time around was more intimate and personal. Agnes slept right next to me and was relaxed and playful when she woke up.

  “Got any plans today?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “That’s the way I like it, baby.”

  “I can see that. Would you like some company? To save water, we’re in a drought, you know.”

  “I’ve heard that. If you’d like to join me, I won’t say no.”

  The shower wasn’t built for two, but we didn’t care. We were both joyfully jumping into the deep end with one another. Why not, age and loneliness will do that to you. There’s nothing like a soft warm woman longing to hold you tight. Two in twenty-four hours was new for me. I didn’t quite know what to do other than go with it. Somewhere in my febrile little mind I knew it was the road to ruin, but I’d save that for another day. I was floating between the two of them. Judith was fun, but I didn’t see that going anywhere; there was no guarantee I’d even see her again. Agnes was different, more my speed.

  I watched as she devoured her breakfast. There was plenty to prepare in the fridge unlike the last time I cooked for her.

  “You know, cooking’s not that difficult. I’m sure you could master it with a little practice.” She was dressed in a bathrobe, underwear, and a towel around her wet hair.

  “I know, but I have an irrational fear about it.”

  “I’m listening…”

  “My fear is if I learn to cook, I’ll be condemned to a life of loneliness.”

  “Really, interesting…”

  “I did use the word irrational!”

  “Yes, you did use that word. Can I ask why?”

  She thought about it for a moment, playing with the hem of her bathrobe as she slouched in her chair. “I don’t know, I guess it’s like a lifeline or maybe a pacifier; something to count on or save me from something I couldn’t or wouldn’t say out loud. I like to believe there’s someone out there for me willing to do the small things that I’m not good at. If I can do all the things I need, then what do I need someone else for? I can do by myself…” Her eyes were intent as she looked at me. “But I don’t want that. I don’t want to be self-contained and independent. I want to be part of something, even if I have to wait or search for it. I spent years with Simon certain that with enough time and patience what I wanted would finally happen, that it would work out. How could he leave me if I couldn’t feed myself? And yes, I know how pathetic that sounds, but even these years alone haven’t changed my mind.”

  “So you’ll never learn to cook?”

  “I’m a stubborn woman, Monk Buttman.”

  “I’ll be mindful of that. Can I get you anything else while I’m up?” I was rising to collect the last of the eggs and sausage for my empty plate.

  “A little more coffee would be nice.”

  “Coffee it is.”

  The phone began to ring as I poured the coffee. Like all-important electronic essentials, it was by her side.

  “Yes?” A soft smile found her lips. “Yes, Mr. Jones, the delightful Mr. Buttman is here.” The smile widened as she held the phone to her ear. “Yes, I think he should too. Would you like to talk to him?”

  She stood and handed me the phone.

  “For me?”

  She acted shocked.

  “Mr. Jones is married, we only talk at work.” I took the phone, watching as she sat back down. Her bathrobe had loosened and her delightful breasts were calling to me.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s a good thing I know a little about human nature, because I sure as shit don’t enjoy tracking you down Buttman.”

  The warmth radiated through the phone.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Jones?”

  “I got a call from that Dahlia woman, apparently she has more to say and wants to talk.”

  “So talk to her.”

  For an inanimate object, the phone was good at transmitting Jones’ irritation.

  “It’s Sunday, Buttman, and I got church, and I damn sure ain’t bringing some transgendered woman into my church. Besides, she wants to talk to you, so I gave her your address. She’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “And if I have something better to do, like church?”

  “Then go to the afternoon service. One hour, Buttman; I’ll be by later today so you can fill me in.”

  “It can’t wait till tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  The call was over. Sadly, these smartphones don’t have that abrupt audible click at the end. I sat down to finish my meal.

  “Bad news?” Agnes had finished her breakfast and was running her hands along the edges of the towel covering her head. This movement caused her bathrobe to continue its parting of the ways, exposing more of her breasts. The smile was still on her face. The towel came down along with the cascade of hair beneath it. She brushed it out with her fingers.

  “Turns out I have a meeting with Dahlia in an hour. She has things to say, apparently just for me. So, I’ll have to leave you here to fend for yourself.”

  Her smile turned to a pout
. “I thought you might spend the day with me? Now you’re going to run off to meet some strange woman.”

  “I have a thing for strange women. As for today, I thought so too, but sadly it’s not to be. And looking at you now, I can’t express how sorry that makes me.”

  “We’re going to miss you.” She stood. Her breasts were swaying gently from side to side.

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “I’m not here to help. I’m here to drive you wild.” She shook her head to spread the hair about. Her breasts were now in full view.

  “I appreciate that. I really do.” Somehow the leftover food didn’t seem very important. I pulled her to my side and kissed her while my hand found her breast.

  “You can always come back later, if you like.”

  “I like.” A tremendous dislike of Mr. Jones came over me as I fondled Agnes’ wonderful breast. I did not want to go. I liked kissing this woman and wanted to continue. She did too. I could feel her hand fondling the zipper on my pants. “I’ll try to make it a quick talk.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I reluctantly released her and headed for the door. She dropped her bathrobe as I looked back. I was finding it hard to walk. All I could see on the drive back was Agnes wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of white panties.

  It was the high point of the day.

  The door to my bungalow was open…

  So I went in….

  The first blow was a fist to the ribs, robbing me of my breath. That was followed by something crashing into the back of my head, sending me to the floor. I knew this was bad. Once on the floor there was little I could do to stop it. The next blow was a foot, boot, something hard and swift, to the face. My head recoiled, aching. I covered my face, obviously too late; curled up as best I could to ward off the kicks and stomps that were raining down upon me. There were two of them, swinging their legs at my head and torso. A few struck my legs. I heard voices and screaming along with the concussive reverberations of the air leaving my lungs as I was being beaten. There was blood in my mouth and I began to vomit. Something was being said, shouted, but I couldn’t make it out. I thought I heard Joanie’s voice. One word rang out amongst all the noise: Rosarita.