Cursed (19 page)

“Do you know about Cobs? How to care for them?”

“Yes, sir. We had Cobs near us back in Dublin. They are a grand horse.”

“That they are, Mr. Murphy.”
He waited for me to go on.

“I know you need to change their feed a bit, and that they are prone to infections of the skin behind the feathers and how to avoid such a problem.”

“Yes, I see you do know your horses. And shoes?”

“The young ones don’t require, but when they do, you need to get the right type of shoe for their weight.”

Mr. Todd smiled and nodded and I felt less squirmy in my chair talking about something I knew.

“Do they have a Cob at the station, or are you remembering this from your youth?”

“No, sir. I have not seen a Cob in quite a while. We had the horse flu go through Boston eight years ago and we mainly have domestic breeds and thoroughbreds from England.”

“Another fine horse.”
Todd stood and walked to his window, looking out with his hands clasped behind his back, contemplating his decision. After a moment, he turned back and checked his pocket watch, inserting it back into its own pocket just as quickly.

“When will you be able to start Mr. Murphy?”

“You are giving me the position?”

“It is yours if you want it.
I am offering a room at the house since I would expect you to be available day and night and to stay close to the stable. One meal per day that you can collect in the kitchen and a pay equal to your current wages.”

“I will let the station know to find a replacement straight away.”
I extended my hand and we shook on it. He gave me his address and asked me to stop by over the weekend to familiarize myself with the stables and horses before the rest of his family arrived.

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 truthful. 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.”