by Lynn Ricci
I went straight to Delia and told her everything as she had made me promise to do. She gave me a hug and told me she thought this job would bring me much happiness and that was all she wanted for me. I shed a tear which opened her floodgates as we stood in the O’Malley parlor. She was proud, I knew it, but I had to face O’Malley next.
I arrived at the station shortly after and found O’Malley watching over the crew as they fitted the long brass pole up through the hole they had cut into the ceiling. On the second floor, we could see workers up through the hole, securing the pole into the second floor ceiling and fitting it to the ground below.
“I hope the men don’t end up in a heap at the bottom of this thing or they will have my head at the commission.” We both laughed easily at the vision although I knew O’Malley well enough by now that he was trying to break the ice.
I stood next to him watching the strange device being installed and he put his hand on my shoulder. I was thinking how much like a father he had become over the years, taking me into his confidence when news of the pole had traveled from the Chicago area and he wanted to be the first to try it here. How he stood his ground with the ideas as others had scoffed at the idea of men sliding down a pole. How we would sit together after our Sunday dinners, and talk for hours as Delia cleaned up the kitchen. He shared everything with me and had such hopes and dreams and although excited about the new job, I felt I would be disappointing him tremendously.
The hammering stopped for a moment and we could speak. He looked me up and down and commented on the new haircut. I knew he wanted to know how it went with Mr. Todd.
“He offered me the position of groom. I took it.”
“Did he now? And is the compensation fair?”
“Tis fair.”
He turned to me and smiled. “I am happy for you, boy. Maybe it’s time we both leave the firehouse. Ah, but they’re all gonna miss you around here.” A weight felt like it had been lifted with the drop of his hand on my shoulder and I felt at peace, happy with my decision.
“They will miss you more, O’Malley.” And I knew that was true as the men not only all looked up to O’Malley but would follow him into the worst inferno.
“Well, we will need to tell Delia tonight. I am sure she will be full of herself for finding the job for you.”
I chuckled and agreed with him. Delia and I had decided to let O’Malley think I told him first out of respect. That night she put on a grand show of asking questions and acting surprised.
Mason stopped talking but the visions in his mind’s eye continued, remembering the kitchen table that night that they celebrated with a ham dinner. Delia playing along with not knowing and her overly exaggerated wide eyed surprise that O’Malley took for real. The men giving him a celebration at the station on his last day and the party they threw for O’Malley a few weeks later with his official retirement. He could remember some of the men’s names, the ones he played cards with. Big burley men that made him proud to have been associated with the Boston Fire Department, even if only to care for the horses.
Mason shook his head, clearing it of the memories and opened his eyes. Blinking a few times thinking it seemed brighter than he would have expected.
Sarah stood and he was aware she was swooping around the coffee table coming towards him quickly. “Mason, your eye?” There was some alarm in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” He sat forward and his hand came up reflexively to cover the eye that had little sight from the droopy, scarred eyelid that pulled down across it.
“Your other eye is open. The pulled skin seems to have eased?” She placed her hand gently on his and pulled it away from covering the side of his face. He looked around the room and to the side where his eye was typically covered and he could see.
Excusing himself, he went to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and stared into the mirror. He leaned in close to the mirror over the pedestal sink. Two blue-green eyes like the color of the sea stared back. The left eyelid did droop a bit more than the one on the right, but he could see his iris and pupil dilating in reaction to the harsh bathroom light.
The scarred, raised and discolored skin that had once cut across that area of his face had lessened and he tentatively reached up to touch the skin with his fingertips, feeling nerve endings fire off that had not been felt for some time under the thickened scar tissue.
Seeing his hand in the mirror, he pulled back and glanced down. Fingers spread he noticed how straight they were and that his knuckles that were normally large knobs of arthritic joints looked normal. The purple mottled discoloration was all but gone from what was left this morning.
Returning his gaze to the mirror, momentarily afraid that he would see his face as he had come to know it, both eyes stared back alert and wide. The rest of his face still carried the pulled skin, bumps and boils down his cheek and his neck but his eye area was definitely improved.
Returning to the living room, Sarah appeared worried. “You ran off so fast. What’s going on Mason?”
“I’m not sure.” He pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time. He paused before he spoke, thinking of how to proceed as the next part of the story was going to be difficult for him, but mainly for her.
Sarah had been watching him but kept silent. Just as he was about to speak, her cell phone rang, breaking the silence. She looked apologetic and hesitated answering. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead.”
Sarah slid her finger across the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Sarah! Are you ok?”
“Hi Lisa, yes, I’m feeling much better.” Sarah pointed to the bedroom to indicate she was going to step away for a moment and Mason inclined his head, walking back to the tall windows overlooking the side of the building where the alley was and where three stories below roses would bloom in the summer.
He wasn’t sure how she would react when she heard the rest of his tale. Perhaps he was over-reacting, he deliberated with himself. The cat had not been back and maybe it was all just a coincidence? And the crow, as shocking as it had been at the time, might have been bad timing too. He was sure storms could throw off birds. It was almost white-out conditions and the wind could have had some impact on the accident as well. He felt a glimmer of hope that maybe it was his own anxiety about her being here that was making him think the worst.
He heard Sarah in the next room speaking to her friend and then heard his name.
“I know it stinks I can’t get back but Mason is here with me . . . yes, he has been here checking on me since last night . . . no the rest of the building is gone and it was kind of creepy to be alone in a building this big . . . no, he’s really not bad at all but I can’t really talk about it right now, he is in the other room. . . .Sorry about our plans but yes, go ahead and take advantage of the snow. I knew you were planning to go skiing with John anyway . . . ok, Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Sarah walked back out to the living room and turned on one of the lamps. “It’s getting dark again. You’ve been talking for hours I can’t wait to hear more but shouldn’t we start the goose?”
“Yes, let’s. Is everything ok with your friend?” He had suspicions on who the friend might be and why all the questions but didn’t want to seem overly concerned.
“Lisa? Yes, she was just expecting to see me when I was home for the holidays. Since I’m not making it there anytime soon, she and her boyfriend decided to head up north to get some skiing in on the new snow.”
Mason felt his shoulders relax. He was afraid he would hear the name Selena, although perhaps she had changed her name over time just as he had to.
“Before we start dinner, may I ask a personal question?”
Mason felt himself tense, ready for almost anything, and nodded ascent.
“How is your eye open now when I could see before it looked like there was scarring and perhaps some paralysis or Bell’s Palsy, with that eyelid?”
“I’m not entirely sure, to be truth
ful. I have seen some improvements in my facial features and my hand over the last twenty four hours even though I never thought I would see improvement. I had actually been getting progressively worse over the years.”
Sarah’s brow was furrowed and she pulled on her ear lobe as she considered what could be the cause of the improvement. “Has it happened before? Momentary or short term reversal?”
“No.”
“Are you doing anything different?”
Mason again shook his head as a negative.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“At first, I did. But that was near the turn of century, probably in 1890 or so, when the small things became somewhat debilitating. They had no answers, but I recognized what it was by that point and knew there was nothing medical doctors could do.”
“Well, what was it then that caused this? I thought it was immediate and that you said it was from a fire.”
“The fire was part of it, but didn’t cause this.” He swept his hand in disgust in front of his face and body. “But you will understand, and I hope you believe, when I tell you the rest of my tale.” He clapped his hands as punctuation to not saying any more for the moment, and added, “Let’s make dinner.”
An hour later after Mason had gathered the ingredients; they had the goose stuffed with potatoes, cranberries and apples, trussed and in the oven.
“So we rotate it and baste it every half hour?”
“Yes, and it should be ready in two.”
“Would you like a glass of wine? I think I could use one and I am sure with all these emotional memories, you might want one, too.”
“I don’t typically drink alcohol, but honestly wouldn’t mind having a glass of wine right now if you want one.”
Mason was becoming nervous and wondered if he should not tell her the story. Perhaps he should have said the disfigurement was from a fire and leave it at that, he contemplated, might be best. But how would he explain some of the improvements he was experiencing or that she even had witnessed? He was enjoying having someone to talk to, share his memories with, and now having dinner and a glass of wine. He felt they could develop a friendship. He watched her wipe down the counter and put the bowl they used for the stuffing into the sink.
After missing human contact over all these years, these last two days had been extremely, and dangerously, satisfying. He would not give in to the other emotions playing along the periphery of his imagination that they could ever share a deeper relationship. He was sure much of her politeness was due to being snowbound over a holiday and not wanting to be alone. Loneliness was something he had mastered long ago but knew was not easy for others.
Sarah picked up the bottle of wine from the counter and slipped it out of its decorative bag. “I don’t typically keep wine in the apartment, but the Baldwin's brought this by the other night.”
“They gave me the same.”
Pulling open the kitchen drawer, Sarah grabbed the cork screw and quickly opened the bottle. Mason watched, mildly surprised at how adept she was and then commented, “Women are very self-sufficient nowadays.”
Sarah laughed, “We are until the wildlife starts throwing themselves at our windows.” Shaking her head while pulling both sides of the corkscrew down to remove the cork. “I was being silly earlier. I know there is nothing to be scared of. I’ll be honest the crow this morning was a little much for me after having such a bad nightmare.”
“For me as well.”
Sarah stopped pouring and looked up at him, searching his face for the meaning. “I thought you said it was just the snow and white-out conditions?”
“Probably.”
Her hands were frozen in place and eyes were intensely alert. “Well birds don’t just try to get in, right? Mason?”
Nodding to alleviate some of her fears, Mason picked up his glass. He kept his mouth a straight line, knowing how gruesome his smile could be with one corner of his mouth frozen by scar tissue. She picked up hers and smiled broadly, her blond hair spilling over the shoulders of her dark green sweater and looking beautiful even with the doubt and tension in her eyes. “To new friends.”
“New friends,” he echoed back. “Merry Christmas, Sarah.”
Glassed clinked and they both took a sip of the dark red liquid.
Chapter 19
Finishing the stuffing in her plate and setting her fork down, Sarah wiped her mouth with her napkin and replaced it on her lap.
“That was delicious. How did you learn to cook like that?”
“Delia, mostly. I have to admit, she was a better cook then my mum. Or perhaps I just appreciated food more by then. When I was young and O’Malley first started taking me home on Sundays from the firehouse, Delia would set me up in the kitchen and show me how to roll out dough or fill a Sheppard’s pie. We had goose every year for the holidays and this was her favorite stuffing. Ah, but we had more of the fixings to go with it, but cooking for one I found it was a waste. I didn’t expect to have someone join me this year.”
Sarah took another sip of her wine and smiled, “I am glad I did, honestly. And, I am amazed at myself for believing this story of yours but I somehow know – deep down – it's true. It explains so much but also opens up so many questions.”
“I know. But I think the end of the story will help explain the answers you are looking for.”
Mason stood from the stool, picking his dishes up from the counter bar and bringing them to the kitchen.
“I’m going to call my parents again.”
“Go ahead, I will clean up.”
Sarah disappeared into the bedroom as Mason started kitchen duty. It was only a few minutes later he heard a crash and he dropped the silverware he had in his hand, running as fast as he could manage across the room and towards the bedroom. Sarah was coming out the bedroom door but had her eyes fixated on the window by the fire escape. Mason knew before he even could see around the corner that the cat had returned.
“What happened?” He asked as he reached the doorway.
“I was on the phone, talking to my dad and was moving the suitcase that was on my bed. I heard a meowing sound. Turning on my bed, I saw the cat but it hissed, arched its back and then ran off. I dropped the suitcase on the floor. Sorry if I scared you.”
“No problem.” Mason looked around the room and Sarah bent to retrieve the carry-on bag that looked like she had already started packing hoping for the best. Stuffing the contents back in, she placed the suitcase on the chair in the corner of the room.
“My parents want to come up and get me but I told them to wait until the morning.”
“So you will be home for Christmas after all.”
“Yes,” she smiled and looked relived, “but I really appreciate your being here with me now.” She looked like she meant it and Mason wasn’t sure if he emotionally felt like he was standing taller with the compliment or if his twisted spine was actually loosening its hunched form. As he walked back to the living room with Sarah, he knew it was the latter.
Dropping onto her listening end of the couch, fixing her pillows, she looked like she was getting ready for his story. Before he made it to the chair he stopped by the small table in the corner to adjust the light in the room. On the table was a small present. Sarah seemed to notice it the moment he did. “Mason, would you mind bringing that over here? We always had a tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. Since this is the only one here, I guess it’s as good as any to open.”
Obligingly he picked up the gift and handed it to her as he made his way to the chair opposite Sarah. He settled in as she started ripping open the wrapping paper, chatting about how a new friend in Boston had dropped this by her office and how foolish she felt not having a gift in return. By then the box was open and she was pulling out an ornate silver box, but obviously an antique. Small, with filigree and intricate designs. There was also a bag and even though sealed, he knew that scent even before she opened the top and released the aroma into the room.
&nb
sp; “Isn’t this lovely!” Sarah exclaimed. “I know what this is. It’s a charcoal burner. I saw it in Zoe’s shop and commented on it.” She held the small pouch up to her nose and breathed in. “It’s like incense. Although I can’t remember what she called it exactly? Is this ok to use since it doesn’t burn like a candle?”
“Agarwood.”
Sarah’s head turned towards Mason. “I think you might be right. But how would you know that?”
“It was a scent I used to know well.”
“Well, this was a nice and unexpected gift.” Sarah set the box down on the table and Mason’s eyes followed the motion almost expecting the box to transform at any moment into something terrible. Sarah picked up her wine glass; draining the remains and setting it back down next to the box and the pouch. She looked expectantly towards Mason.
“Sarah, the next part of the story, really the end of the story, may be difficult to hear. If you want or need me to stop at any point, please tell me.”
With that settled, it was time to plow on. The wind continued to howl outside even though the snow had stopped hours before. Plows continued to make their runs and the smaller whine and scraping of the sidewalk plow had started past their brownstone meaning that the main street had been cleared.
Mason looked at Sarah, and up at the painting on the brick wall of the snowy Brownstones and thought how everything was just falling in place. He had to tell his story.
Leaning back he noticed his body settled into the chair differently, easier, and he wondered if there was improvement in his back as well.
“I started working for the Todd’s in the springtime of 1880 . . .”
“The Todd’s brownstone was impressive indeed. At the time, before automobiles, people relied on walking, streetcars and of course horse and carriage. The Todd's, being part of the upper class, had the stable specifically built to house not only their carriage and thoroughbreds, but for riding horses as well. Their daughters, Catherine and Penelope, were both excellent riders and the entire Todd family would enjoy taking rides together on horseback. They decided against Beacon Hill due to what they considered congestion in that part of the city to their location in order to have access to larger wooded areas and riding trails.