Louis Maistros - The Sound of Building Coffins

“Don’t want no one but my Lily, Doctor Jack. Thanks anyhow.”

“Didn’t say nothing ’bout no one else.”

Typhus looked up, startled by the implication.

“That’s right, boy. I believe it might be time for you and Miss Lily to meet in person.”

Typhus’ expression changed quickly from joy to hope to suspicion to something like anger. “You playin’ games with me, Doctor Jack? Could be I ain’t as gullible as you think.”

Jack’s own expression performed a similar succession; shock to anger to barely concealed amusement.

“I know yer in a bad way, so I’ll let that pass. Can’t says I blame you for not believing-but it’s true enough. Lily’s alive and well and not at all far off. Now, I ain’t saying she looks just like in the picture. That picture was took long ago. If you want her to be young and pretty, then I guess I oughtn’t bother. But if you really love her, then what she looks like shouldn’t oughta matter much.”

Typhus considered this new possibility. Could he trust his own heart if Doctor Jack was telling the truth, if he was really able to meet the real Lily, the flesh and blood version? If she wasn’t beautiful like in the picture, would it matter to him? Would he recoil from her? The questions didn’t seem fair at first-but then he considered her eyes. How he’d always longed to see them in person, how he’d wondered about their color. He’d always imagined them green. He knew they were green. Green like his mother’s eyes; eyes he’d never seen, that he’d only heard described by his father. In any case, Typhus figured Lily’s eyes wouldn’t have changed much, however old she might be now.

“It doesn’t matter,” Typhus said at last.

“Well, then. It’s settled. You get yourself some sleep here tonight, then go on home in the morning and get cleaned up. Come back when the sun down. ’Tween now and then I’ll have had a chance to talk to her, maybe make some sort of arrangement.”

Typhus stood silent with a cautious grin on his face. Dr. Jack’s sleep remedy was swimming madly in his blood, doing battle with a rush of adrenaline. His swirling thoughts focused loosely around an image of his best shirt, the one he’d wear to meet Lily the Real Live Girl tomorrow evening.

“Typhus?” Jack was smiling.

“Yes, sir?”

“There’s a possibility, you know, that she won’t come. I don’t want you to be too disappointed if she don’t.”

Typhus was disappointed at the mere thought. Still, he was high on this bit of hope. Sometimes hoping feels the same as winning. Sometimes hoping is good enough.

“No, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Now, go on and git some sleep,” said Doctor Jack.

“All right, then,” said Typhus simply.

“All right, then” agreed Jack.

“Dr. Jack?”

“Yes, Typhus?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“All right, then.”

“All right, then.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

The sun was down but the air still hot when Typhus began his walk back to Doctor Jack’s office the next day, and along the way he began considering the possibility that he’d put on his best shirt for nothing. Right now, these were things he nearly believed: the hope he’d felt last night was born of sleep medication, Doctor Jack had played a trick. But anger and suspicion calmed into acceptance and melancholy by the time he reached his destination. Typhus’ knock was followed by a click then a clack as Doctor Jack removed the padlock from inside.

“Well, aren’t you looking fancy for your big date.” Something about Doctor Jack looked out of the ordinary, but Typhus couldn’t quite place what. He looked cleaner somehow.

“Thank you,” Typhus answered, taking in a deep breath before adding, “Did you talk to Lily?”

Jack just smiled. With the door closed behind him, Typhus found his question answered by the heavy scent of perfume. Sweet, fancy, lady fragrance. She was here, or recently had been.

“Of course I talked to her, Typhus. Told you I would, didn’t I?”

“She coming?” Typhus asked with wide eyes.

Jack’s face turned serious. “Have yerself a seat and I’ll explain.” He motioned for Typhus to take a chair. “I told Lily all about you, Typhus, and I was completely honest with her. Told her about that picture of yours, the one I gave you. Told her about your devotion to her. About your longing. Everything. I left none of it out.” Jack’s voice stayed low and even as Typhus’ eyebrows raised in horror.

“Ah, Doctor Jack,” Typhus said with shaking voice. “You shouldn’t oughta done that. Might think I’m some kinda love-crazed fool.”

“Like I said,” Jack said, “I was dead honest with her. She a friend of mine just like you a friend of mine. How would you feel if I went on lyin’ to you about important things?”

Typhus faced the ground. “Not so good, I guess.”

Jack’s tone softened at the concession. “’Course not, son. ’Course not. Always be honest with your friends if you can hep it.” The truth did little to console Typhus. His head hung ever-lower, his eyes fastened to his shoes. He couldn’t imagine Lily would think much of him if she knew the truth about his relationship with her picture.

“Ah, now, buck up, Typhus,” Doctor Jack continued. “That ain’t the end of it now, not by a longshot it ain’t. Lily was touched by it all, just like I knew she would be. She told me in her whole life she never meant so much to anyone as her picture means to you. Your love for her without even knowing her is a thing that touched her very deeply. And she does indeed wish to make your acquaintance.” Typhus’ eyes regained light, but before they could light all the way Jack managed to splash some cold water on: “Of course, she has a few conditions before she will.”

“Conditions?” Typhus didn’t like the sound of that.

“Well, yes, Typhus. Conditions. You have to understand that this is a strange set of circumstances to be thrusting upon poor Miss Lily out of the blue and all. She being a bit older now than she was in that picture of your’n. And her being so much older than you anyway, old enough to be your mama. She doesn’t expect the two of you will be able to carry on a proper relationship, so she wants to take things slow.”

“How slow? What do you mean?”

“Well…” Doctor Jack paused, smoothing the lines of his forehead with the rough palm of his left hand. “Typhus, it’s like this. She wants to meet you. She wants to meet you very much. But she doesn’t want you to see her.”

Mortified, Typhus whispered, “I don’t understand.”

Jack stepped behind Typhus and placed a hand on his shoulder. “She doesn’t want to betray your image of her, the way you know her. She wants you to keep that. So she asked me to bring you here-but she’ll only come in the room if you’re sitting in that chair. With a blindfold on.”

“A blindfold?” This couldn’t be happening. “Doctor Jack, are you playing some kind of trick on me?”

“I thought you might say that-told Lily you might, too. But this ain’t no trick. You can leave right now if you don’t like the idea. Lily said she’d understand if you did, and I’d certainly understand, too.”

Typhus lowered himself to the chair. Put elbows to knees and head in hands; thinking. After a few seconds he spoke without looking up, “I still want to meet her. Even if I can’t see her.”

The lines of Jack’s forehead disappeared without the help of his palm. “She didn’t think you’d feel that way, but I knew you would. I said, ‘Lily, you don’t understand how much you mean to that young man.’”