Christopher WunderLee - Moore's Mythopoeia

“I believe all the information I need I have gathered from our hobby… I accept.”

“Then, I will take care of the arrangements.”

“You have always been so talented with new and interesting arrangements.”

* * *

There he was, at the appointed time, at the appointed place (snuck in through the grandfather clock), frocked in borrowed clothing, just so, sipping cucumber water laced with her delicate uppers, standing before a portrait of a sour Greene (long since waltzing with Flower), his hair buttered, perfumed, under the pretense of some designer that needed impressing for a commission for Elisa. He stood as pleasingly as he could, a Waughian vision, sporting a tempered air as Elisa guided Graham and his dutiful, youthful wife into the room.

The introductions were made, and Joseph, going as “Demain”, was shown kindly into an adjoining room where the four took positions on separate couches just as a servant brought in more cucumber water and finger sandwiches.

“So,” Graham sighed by way of an overture.”Elisa tells us you’re a designer.”

“I wasn’t sure how to put this when we first met, but you look very familiar to me Mrs. Graham Greene,” Joseph/Demain intimated.

“Oh, she was all over the press awhile back,” Graham replied indifferently, “during the nuptials.”

“Ah… indeed. You’ve been exposed then…” hesitating interminably “…to the public… at large… in full…”

“It was a bit distressing at times,” she added.

“Yes… dis-dressing… it can be… although if memory serves, a bit is hardly emblematic of your form…”

“She handled it with grace,” Graham interjected. “And you, do you have much experience with it?”

“She does handle with grace… a certain spirited gentleness… I speak from experience…”

“Of course, I’m sure you have had your dalliances with coverage.”

“Hers and my own… playful and flirtatious… although not much coverage… in my experience… it was always scanty… revealing…”

“In what way?”Graham requested kindly.

“Oh, you know… you too have experienced it… intimately as I have…” a strange wave towards her “…the many ways… the many positions… the many roles… the sultry expectations and the bare disclosures…”

“I found it disheartening, how much was inaccurate, misquoted,” she inserted.

“Ah… good choice of words… indeed, it was… the absence of, to remove or to undo… almost to defrock it, revealing it in its bare truth… complete with its perfections… say proportioned 33Cs with an alluring slope to frolicsome crest… even with its blemishes… a discoloration of sorts hovering over significant ribs, say almost the size of a saucer…”

Elisa noted Graham’s forehead contorted slightly, confusedly, realizing suddenly the intent.

“I’m not sure I understand the detail,” Graham probed. Even Haddie carried a look of mystified indulgence.

“For me,” Joseph/Demain continued, “the details are the flavors of memory… those that I savor, and do not… and how could I not savor such memories… their smells, tastes, impressions… of each time… of each one…” and he winked at Haddie, who blushed despite her disorder.

Graham, observing, began, “are we still…?” But, the arrival of an attendant announcing the placing of the first course caused all four to rise and proceed into the dining hall, where Graham, quiet, in reflection, gestured for Joseph/Demain to occupy a seat across from Haddie, with Elisa beside her, so that Graham sat at the head of the table, with his adoring wife to his right, his guest to his left, and his sister a chair away, whilst eleven other chairs remained empty. A lone candelabra was lit, placed in the center, glowing irreverently, and its apricot light sent shadows to indiscriminate places, and when Graham surveyed the situation, he noted, as he was sure others would, how the iridescent illumination caught his wife’s bared shoulders and sternum provocatively, in her ivory gown balanced with rich purple ribbon and a single yellow rose at the drop of her chest (not to mention how it accentuated Elisa’s advanced charms). He was strangely sensitive to this unfortunate composition as the small plates were served, and it did not help that his guest had seemed to notice as well, and was, at the very moment Graham was detailing the substance of the fare, gaping brazenly in her direction.

Oddly, the guest did not eat. He sat back in his chair, as if he had no intention of touching the assiette de fromages or braised collards or naan, or the light soup prepared at the chef’s whim, with his legs crossed, facing towards Graham, dangling his cucumber water between his finger and thumb. Elisa marveled, unsure she wanted to follow him to his ends.

“Won’t you have something Mister…” Haddie started.

“I’ve had everything I want at the table,” he replied, smirking. Graham was noticeably indignant; however, he was used to Elisa’s acquaintances having eccentricities.

“You won’t have anything to eat?” Haddie asked uneasily.

“Oh, I might attempt another taste of the sumptuous bloom…”

Haddie shifted in her seat and turned to her sister-in-law, “how are you enjoying your stay?”

“Quite relaxing,” Elisa replied.

“We were so delighted to hear about the proposal,” turning towards the guest, “Elisa is to be married.”

“Ah… always a safe haven… many have been saved by the institution…” he offered Maughamly, “you will no doubt be a precious conductor for her…” he said to the lady of the house.

“If she asks for my help, I’d be happy to provide it.”

“It would seem… in such circumstances… your advice… to the wayward… would be invaluable…”

“Possibly,” Haddie offered carefully.

“…experience is counsel with wisdom…”

“Well, I’ve just been married myself,” Haddie replied.

“Best wishes indeed…”

“But, she’s intolerably good at it,” Graham added, reaching for her hand.

“She is gifted at a great many things…” followed by the host scowling, “…which is why she can offer… so much to those less… experienced…”

“I’m sorry, did you know my wife before?” Graham asked, palpable in his enmity.

“Not intimately… well, I should rephrase… intimately but not very well…”

“I don’t believe we have ever met.”

“Ah… it doesn’t shock me you wouldn’t remember… that was a chaotic time… for you… for many of your age… so much liberty… some say too much… of course, because I was blessed by the libertine milieu, I do not share that view…”

“I apologize,” Haddie said, “I don’t remember. I think you might have me confused with someone else.”

“It sounds like it,” Graham interposed Thackerayly.

“No, it was you… you went by Springfield at that time…”

“My maiden name,” she acquiesced.

“…a natural moustache rather than pointed goatee… if I remember correctly… which was in favor at the time… you were audacious without being impertinent… always wore your hair in a diadem of garland…”

“But, where?” Haddie aberrantly shrieked, “where did we meet?”

“If memory serves, at the Stay Tasty salon… exactly when we first met… although I did not get your name until dawn…”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Haddie mused.

“But dear… you frequented it… and frequented many attendees…”

“I have no recollection of any such place, or you,” she repeated.

“It doesn’t surprise me… the bacchanalian setting… the libertine zeitgeist… so many liberties… it was a whirlwind of late nights… companions… by the time I entered the fray… you were celebrated…”