A Member of the Audience.

Chapter 1

James Last awoke at seven a.m. as he did almost every morning, he awoke from habit, without the aid of an alarm clock and rose quickly from his bed. His wife, Jennifer, in the same bed, didn’t stir, yet he gently patted her arm as if to tell her not to get up on his account, something she had not done for many years. He stretched and rubbed his shoulders then went to the bathroom. When he came out he put on a light sweater and pants but no shoes nor socks. He went downstairs to the kitchen.

It was a large kitchen, coloured mainly in blue and white with natural wood finishes, stainless steel and glistening tiles, it had every sort of epicurean gadget or implement, each precisely stored; so unlike the remembered messiness of his childhood kitchen. While he waited for the coffee to brew James drank a glass of orange juice. Coffee made he took a large mug of coffee, black, into the back yard.

Although there was a shaded deck with tables and chairs, and the chairs were quite comfortable, James preferred to sit in a large wooden chair positioned in the center of the yard facing away from the house, It was the mildest of eccentricities, in fact James never considered it eccentric, he simply felt more comfortable there. It did however annoy Jennifer, if only slightly, it was a little odd, and of course the neighbours might wonder, not that she particularly liked the neighbours but there were, always, appearances to be kept up.

The air still held the evening’s chill and the grass, shiny with morning dew, was cold and wet beneath his feet. He closed his eyes and thought of the day before him. He would remember to pick up some flowers for Denise, a nice day for the park, no real plan, just see Denise. He inhaled deeply, the clean, fresh air was spiced with the aroma of coffee and of damp cedar from the bushes along the back of the yard.

The yard included a comparatively new two car garage, (they had replaced the old one five years before), a large leafy elm tree that offered welcome shade in the hot summer months, and flower beds that bordered the yard. When they purchased the house, many years ago, there had been several flower beds in the yard, filled with many types of flowers, but these had quickly been replaced with only a border of low maintenance plants and shrubs. Neither he nor Jennifer cared much for gardening,

It was an early summer Sunday morning and the comfortable suburban neighbourhood was quiet, without the sound of automobiles or power mowers or any human activity. The weather forecast had been for a warm sunny day and the morning sky was cloudless.

Usually, for James, a pleasant morning such as this would lift his spirits but there were times when the same kind of day would make him feel slightly depressed and anxious, the beauty of the day mocking him he thought, although in just what way he wasn’t sure, something about mortality perhaps. He had reached that age where he often thought of his own mortality. How could he not? The deaths of acquaintances, of celebrities, was a constant reminder. This day however, did not depress him in the least. He felt relaxed and easy, thinking vague thoughts while he sipped his coffee. He tried to recall a joke he had heard, a clever joke that he would tell Denise, something about religion, but he couldn’t remember it

A little later he went into the house, set his empty coffee mug in the sink and turned off the kitchen light. For an instant, as he stood in the shadow filled dimness of the house, it seemed to him that the heavy, still air carried with it a faint feeling of hostility. It was a curious, fleeting, sensation and while it did not exactly make him shutter he did raise his eyebrows and glance quickly about as if startled.

Upstairs Jennifer still slept. The bedroom air was stale and motionless with a hint of perfume. He glanced at her dressing table covered with creams and ointments, make-up and perfumes. He imagined her sitting there, carefully putting on her face, as she liked to say. He put on shoes and socks and quietly left for his morning walk, another ritual.

He walked quickly, again from habit for he was in no particular hurry. He saw only one other person, an elderly lady, white haired with a cane, who stood motionless beside her front door.

Past the houses, solid and secretive, well kept up, painted and maintained, of different sizes, shapes, and styles, some set forward, some back, but all similar in a way, as if each had been given the same stamp of approval, as if each met some particular set of requirements. The lawns were precise; flowers, trees, and shrubs were neat and well ordered. Glendon Heights was considered a desirable area in which to live and there was rarely a house for sale within its boundaries. Property values increased a little every year.

For a long time Jennifer had been convinced that James was having an affair and once, two years earlier, she had followed him when he went out. It had been one of those times when he had said, I’m going out for a bit., he always used the same phrase, I’m going out for a bit., and she had followed him to the shopping mall. There he had gone into the movie theatre.

Thinking that he must be meeting someone inside she had waited until the movie finished. While she waited she drank tea and smoked cigarettes, she smoked then, and found herself, on top of other confused feelings, caught up in the excitement of what she was doing. She found it exciting to observe someone without their knowing and she thought that people who spied for a living; private detectives, secret agents and the like, must truly enjoy their work

Almost as much as she was angry she was curious; curious to see whom it was that James would leave the theatre with. Would it be someone she knew or a stranger, someone young and pretty, old and unattractive, or something in between? She was not sure whether or not to confront them as they left the theatre; she relished the idea of seeing him squirm, visualizing his awkwardness, his loss of words, and of course the quiet panic on her face, whatever face it might be, but then again it might be better to do it at home where she felt more in control. Neither turned out to be the case for James left the theatre as he had entered it, alone.

When she arrived home he was there, lying on the living room floor with his earphones on listening to his music. She stood in the kitchen and considered, for the thousandth time, whether or not to accuse him, no, not accuse him for she had no proof, calmly ask him. If he said no it would not satisfy her and what if he said yes? He was such a stranger now, so vague and reclusive. Somehow she had let him slip away, but it had happened so slowly, so quietly, like the darkening of dusk, that she had not been aware. She wished he had never taken the early retirement. If he did say yes, he was having an affair, if he admitted it, there would be no pleas for forgiveness, she knew that. He would ask her if she wanted him to move out and then what would she do? It would all be put on her, she would say no, that he just had to promise not to see this other woman again, and what if he said he couldn’t do that then what would she do? It would all be put on her, just like everything else. He would not even apologize, he would blink and mumble and discuss it as calmly as if it was the purchase of a new power mower.

She rather assumed it would be someone she knew so she studied her female friends closely, as if they might give something away, especially those who were known to sleep around a little. Then she thought it would be more like James to pick someone who didn’t sleep around and that widened the field considerably.

When they went to social functions together, which was not often and usually at the club, she spent a good deal of time watching James; how he interacted with the women and how they interacted with him, looking for that special glance, the discreet signal, the whispered phrase, but there was nothing. It made the social functions much less enjoyable than they once had been. She even went through his pockets from time to time as if she might find a lipstick smudged handkerchief, a love note, something. She was always alert for the scent of an alien perfume, the smell of another woman’s body.

It was a strain but for the most part she handled it adequately with no more than a natural amount of bitterness, anger, and resentment. At times she would tell herself that despite how sure she felt, she had no facts, no hard evidence, so it was not an absolute certainty, but that changed nothing. Watching and searching became second nature and her belief in his betrayal was always with her, and that belief in his betrayal brought with it its own special kind of loneliness.

Even the way he listened to his damn music, eyes closed, completely absorbed, had become an irritation. She wished she had never asked him to buy the earphones. She hated his music but the silence when he listened was even worse, it allowed him to step completely outside and be in a world of his own. She had even come to resent the teenagers in the mall with their little gadgets and tiny earphones humming to themselves. Why would a grown man, a man in his fifties for heaven’s sake, lie on the carpet to listen to music? Once upon a time, in the early days of their marriage, he had liked to make love to her on the carpet, something at the time she had found rather erotic, but that was a long time ago and not something she remembered as she went to bed. She never confronted him and she never followed him again.

When James returned from his walk he went again, with another mug of coffee, to his chair in the back yard. The sun was higher now and the chill in the air was gone. Jennifer would stay in bed until ten or ten-thirty, then they would have breakfast together. Sunday was golf day, all day. She would have dinner at the club then drinks and gossip afterwords. Thursday night was her bridge night, aerobics were on Tuesday night, then there was the community board she sat on and the volunteer work. An active life, he thought, perhaps that was why she slept so late. He had always been an early riser, someone who enjoyed the morning.

At breakfast Jennifer had toast and tea, James had two soft boiled eggs, toast and coffee. Jennifer chatted. She chatted mostly about the neighbours, the club, and the house. The grass needs doing. she said.

James expression was immediately quizzical as if for a second he did not know what grass she might be referring to or what should be done to it, but he sipped his coffee and said. Sure.

Jennifer continued chatting, thinking that probably he would not remember about the grass and if he did he would simply hire one of the local boys to do it and he would not supervise the work nor even check on it afterwords so the grass was never done properly. I have to pick up Louise, she’s in another crisis situation, at least for her its a crisis. That man of hers, you’d think she would have learned by now, but she has these expectations.

Does she? What sort of expectations?

Jennifer stopped short as if unaware she had spoken aloud. She had no intention of discussing Louise’s marital problems, Oh, you know Louise., she said quickly

As a matter of fact, James thought, he hardly knew Louise at all but he chose not to press the point, and instead continued to half listen as Jennifer chatted on about the club members and the day’s match. Jennifer knew James had little or no interest in the social goings-on at the club but she preferred talking to silence.

When she had gone James listened to music and read until noon, then he made himself a light lunch and when he had finished eating he washed the breakfast and lunch dishes. Then he shaved, brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, and drove into town.

Chapter 2

James Last was fifty-five years old and had been retired for four years, he had been able to take an early retirement because the company, of which he was the president and co-owner with his wife, had been purchased by a large corporation. The company, founded by his father-in-law was a moderately prosperous one that sold office equipment and supplies. James, as had been expected went to work in the company after marrying Jennifer. When his father turned the business over to him James ran it well if not spectacularly. He always managed to show a decent profit in a field that was very competitive.

By marrying Jennifer, an only child, he had made his life financially easier and secure. He knew this would be the case and it had influenced his decision to marry her. It had been an influence but not the main reason and in fact she had pursued him more aggressively than he her. It would not be fair to call him an opportunist, only that he took the line of least resistance, to always find the easy road. James was aware of this trait; it was a weakness he often thought about, and it made him feel a little ashamed and less, less than what he might have been, or should have been. It had stifled him, kept him within careful borders, he thought. He disliked it, this trait or weakness, but it was a bad habit he was unable to change.

He now stood in the wrought iron and varnished wood gateway to the park and hesitated a moment before entering. A small bouquet of flowers was held awkwardly in front of him. He could see Denise in her tan jacket and navy blue skirt, always early, always seated on the same bench. Not far from where she sat two boys tossed a Frisbee back and forth.

He walked slowly up the path. As he approached she turned her head toward the sound of his footsteps on the gravel. Hi there. he said.

James. She kept her head turned toward him, smiling. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her lightly on the lips. She stood up and embraced him then ran the tips of her fingers over his face. They sat down and he gave her the flowers which she held against her face for a moment. They began to talk and she took his hand, holding it tightly and sometimes pressing it to her thigh.

They had been lovers for eight years Four years earlier she had been in a car accident that left her blind and with metal pins in her legs. She had never completely regained her strength. She tired easily and was often in great pain.

As he usually did he offered a description of what he saw. "A couple of kids playing Frisbee, you must have heard them, twelve or thirteen I guess, both with long hair, skillful of course so they play catch easily and casually, no wasted motion, sort of an awkward grace, but their hearts aren’t in it, kind of bored. I think they’ll stop soon then sit down on the grass together, goof around, make a few stupid jokes then head off at breakneck speed on their bikes in search of... in search of some more interesting place to put their energy. There’s a couple on a bench, late twenties, early thirties, both blonde, maybe related, not lovers, no, I think not, they sit too far apart and not far enough for lovers who have quarrelled, he sprawls, seems pleased with himself, she leans forward a little, kind of huddled within herself, she talks without looking at him and she makes funny little jerky motions with her hands. Quite far away two men are suntanning, on a yellow blanket, to hell with skin cancer we shall be bronzed and golden. And here comes a man walking his dog, he’s coming our way, along the walk, dog owner with a conscience, dog on leash and he just dropped a plastic bag containing I presume, dog droppings, into a trash can. I don’t know breeds of dogs; medium size, long hair, reddish brown, some sort of retriever maybe, should be out swimming for ducks, but anyway the man looks grim, mad, walking briskly, definitely angry, you know when he passed close by he deliberately looked away in case we said good afternoon or even nodded to him, very grim, not just a bad day, the expression is too set, he wears it ll the time. So if he’s unhappy with the dog, walking the dog, why is he doing it?

It might be his wife’s dog.

It might be and he has to walk it, he feels bullied and put upon, the dog is a symbol, picking up after it.

"Or its his dog and his wife hates it. She hates it and he doesn’t even like it but he wont get rid of it because that would be a victory for her and so he continues to walk the dog until the dog or he, or she, die of old age.

Hmmm. Maybe there is no wife, maybe he is all alone and bought the dog for company, thinking it would... would somehow help, but the dog hasn’t lived up to expectations.

So distressing, such bad scenarios today. Are there no young lovers strolling hand in hand, pledging undying love?

"No. I see no lovers at all, young or old, maybe the two men suntanning, can’t tell. I could invent a couple for you.?

No, that’s all right. We just might be the only lovers in the park today.

After an hour or so they left the park, walking slowly, arm in arm, along the quiet residential streets to her apartment. He carried her jacket for her while she held the flowers in one hand, often touching them to her face while she talked of a friend, an old friend who had visited her the day before.

Suddenly there was a loud fierce barking and a dog in a fenced in yard charged toward them. Barking and snarling it hurled itself against the fence. He felt her start, felt the panic in her body. Its all right. he said quickly putting his arm around her shoulder. Its fenced in. He could feel her trembling.

Angrily he turned to the dog and saw there was a man and a woman sitting on the house steps drinking coffee. Why don’t you shut your God-damned dog up? he yelled.

The couple said nothing but the woman slowly raised one hand with the middle finger extended.

God-damned people and their God-damned dogs. They let them bark at everyone, they let them shit all over the sidewalks.

Its all right, she said, calming him, I was just surprised, I don’t usually come this way. I’m okay. She gave his arm a squeeze and continued to talk of the friend, and again put the flowers to her face and smiled.

He forced himself to be calm, talking, even laughing a little with her but the anger did not leave him for a long time, it stayed like a small hard knot in the pit of his stomach. He thought vague thoughts of poisoned meat.

In the kitchen of her small apartment they ate olives, cheese and crackers, pasta salad, and sipped wine. As always she asked after his wife and children and as always he replied briefly and perfunctory. They talked a