He will not be missed Monday, June 19, 2006 |
He took off his hat. The ride home was tiring. He walked slowly towards the fireplace and stood by the mantel. The flickering fire was burning slowly and slowly. Signaling the coming of its end. He brushed the lapel of his dinner jacket, touching the exact place where Ralph Emerson placed his hand.
The night was making way to a new day. In just a few hours, the sun will rise and for once, the cold silent night will not be missed.
He sat in one of his favorite chairs. The one with cigarette burns all over it. The same exact chair that he sat in when he heard of Ralph's departure.
He sat there in silence. Staring at the deep, deep amber light emanating from the fire place.
***
He opened the door to the car and slipped in. The night was extremely cold when he left his house for the Theater. The traffic was smooth considering the bad weather. He played with his leather glove trying to kill time. The driver was awfully quite tonight. They passed the Gallery without any remarks on the new exhibition, or the Grand Hotel without gossiping on the debutantes, and the familiar House on the Park without any restless feelings.
The interior of the car was musty when the driver opened the door. He smiled and walked towards the entrance where hundreds of people were waiting for his arrival. He was used to all this. There were times when he could just shut his eyes and forget about the sea of murmurs and whispers. But not tonight. His eyes were wild. Looking for that familiar face.
He was informed earlier that Ralph Emerson would be there. That after all these years he would meet him again. Oh what drama awaits him, what lines would he say and what plot would he tell.
He moved silently towards the usual Box. The box that has been his sanctuary for the past twenty years.
He would come to the Theater without fail. When he was 7, his father once said,
''…all the world is a stage…’’
And since then, he has been going to every show without fail trying to ‘place’ himself in that ’world’. And he would fail miserably. But not tonight. Tonight the show was in honor of a young gentleman who just came back from France. A young gentleman whom he knew by heart.
Her picked up his programme and read it. Savoring one word after another. Reading the name out loud in his heart.
''…Mr. Ralph Emerson…’’
He sat there in silence.
***
They looked at each other. There was a moment of hesitation. He moved towards Ralph slowly as not to scare him off like he did ten years ago. Ralph drew a warm smile, embracing his presence.
They shook hands and held on to that moment for as long as they could. They just looked into each other’s eyes. Saying words without parting lips. Ralph touched his lapel and just stood there. The crowd around them became invisible. Like smoke, they slowly evaporated one by one, leaving only the two of them in that vast ornate room. The silence between them was deafening.
The moment was brief. It was rudely interrupted by a young lady inquiring Ralph Emerson of his male acquaintance. He took a step back and formally introduced him to her. They shook hands and stood there. He excused himself leaving Mr. and Ms. Emerson.
***
Not tonight. The cold lonely night would not be missed. The thick heavy smoke would not be missed and the misery of young man would not be missed. Tomorrow morning he would be the headline. Tomorrow morning he would be missed. Tomorrow morning people would care. Tomorrow morning he would be happy.
Maybe some writer would write about him and turn his life into a play. Maybe for once in his life he would be a part of the ‘world’. He pondered silently as he held the cold metal in his hand. It’s funny how a trigger can end his 27 years of unfulfilled and meaningless life. He stared at the mechanism with much despair, placed it at his temple. He hesitated. But would there be any hopes for him should he decide to abandon his plan and wait restlessly for another cold, lonely night, or another play for that matter.
He closed his eyes tightly and pulled the trigger.
The night was making way to a new day. In just a few hours, the sun will rise and for once, the cold silent night will not be missed.
He sat in one of his favorite chairs. The one with cigarette burns all over it. The same exact chair that he sat in when he heard of Ralph's departure.
He sat there in silence. Staring at the deep, deep amber light emanating from the fire place.
***
He opened the door to the car and slipped in. The night was extremely cold when he left his house for the Theater. The traffic was smooth considering the bad weather. He played with his leather glove trying to kill time. The driver was awfully quite tonight. They passed the Gallery without any remarks on the new exhibition, or the Grand Hotel without gossiping on the debutantes, and the familiar House on the Park without any restless feelings.
The interior of the car was musty when the driver opened the door. He smiled and walked towards the entrance where hundreds of people were waiting for his arrival. He was used to all this. There were times when he could just shut his eyes and forget about the sea of murmurs and whispers. But not tonight. His eyes were wild. Looking for that familiar face.
He was informed earlier that Ralph Emerson would be there. That after all these years he would meet him again. Oh what drama awaits him, what lines would he say and what plot would he tell.
He moved silently towards the usual Box. The box that has been his sanctuary for the past twenty years.
He would come to the Theater without fail. When he was 7, his father once said,
''…all the world is a stage…’’
And since then, he has been going to every show without fail trying to ‘place’ himself in that ’world’. And he would fail miserably. But not tonight. Tonight the show was in honor of a young gentleman who just came back from France. A young gentleman whom he knew by heart.
Her picked up his programme and read it. Savoring one word after another. Reading the name out loud in his heart.
''…Mr. Ralph Emerson…’’
He sat there in silence.
***
They looked at each other. There was a moment of hesitation. He moved towards Ralph slowly as not to scare him off like he did ten years ago. Ralph drew a warm smile, embracing his presence.
They shook hands and held on to that moment for as long as they could. They just looked into each other’s eyes. Saying words without parting lips. Ralph touched his lapel and just stood there. The crowd around them became invisible. Like smoke, they slowly evaporated one by one, leaving only the two of them in that vast ornate room. The silence between them was deafening.
The moment was brief. It was rudely interrupted by a young lady inquiring Ralph Emerson of his male acquaintance. He took a step back and formally introduced him to her. They shook hands and stood there. He excused himself leaving Mr. and Ms. Emerson.
***
Not tonight. The cold lonely night would not be missed. The thick heavy smoke would not be missed and the misery of young man would not be missed. Tomorrow morning he would be the headline. Tomorrow morning he would be missed. Tomorrow morning people would care. Tomorrow morning he would be happy.
Maybe some writer would write about him and turn his life into a play. Maybe for once in his life he would be a part of the ‘world’. He pondered silently as he held the cold metal in his hand. It’s funny how a trigger can end his 27 years of unfulfilled and meaningless life. He stared at the mechanism with much despair, placed it at his temple. He hesitated. But would there be any hopes for him should he decide to abandon his plan and wait restlessly for another cold, lonely night, or another play for that matter.
He closed his eyes tightly and pulled the trigger.