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seen eternity staring at me this evening.” He sat slumped and staring forward, mumbling at his hands that lay palms-up on his knees. Maribeth and Trish fussed over him, but it was as though he had left the hallway and the mayhem slowly fading around him.
Richard motioned the officer to move back, but paid no attention to the Major, who had only come, uninvited, to ask the governor to attend a gala dinner at the Mission, which was to be prepared in its entirety by the residents, none of whom could he possibly know had ever cooked anything more complex than a hard boiled egg. The Major had complete confidence in the hand of God in the matter at any rate. His

God who had urged the saintly man in a cathartic-induced vision to personally visit the state’s dignitary and request his and his family’s presence week after next. In the long run (the Major failed to admit to himself) the attendance would draw the interest of hundreds, perhaps, of the wealthy, along with their well-oiled pocketbooks. For his part, six foot-five Officer Daniel O’Reilly had simply been walking by when he'd spotted the Major, an old acquaintance. In the short course of their congenial conversation he found himself rambling up the Mansion steps beside the Major, unaware that within the hour he would have personally met the beloved governor, his Florence Nightingale-like wife, and the sodden bum he had rousted earlier that day. He would later recall, mostly, having met Maribeth with her viper’s tongue and John L. Sullivan fists.
The governor looked down on the blue-tinted (now) gentleman wearing his sweater, trousers, argyle socks and comfortable loafers, being mothered by Saints Nit Wit and Tricia of Avila. He set aside his urge to throttle Maribeth for the moment and turned to the Major and Officer O’Reilly. Over the Major’s shoulder he spied Consuela and Robert peaking round the corner at the kitchen. Richard spoke to the Major and O’Reilly.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us.
“Robert,” he said raising his eyes, “please escort our visitors to the door. Major,” he said dropping his gaze, “we will check our calendar to see if the night of your dinner is open. Thank you.” To O’Reilly, “I think the situation is under control. Thank you for your help. We’ll see to the professor, or whatever he is. Goodnight.”
Robert had stepped forward, halfway down the hall, and waited quietly until both men offered their valedictions to the family, and then retreated toward the exit. Following the two men, he glanced back over his shoulder quickly at the bum who had weaseled his way into the sanctity of the home. He could not help but see Maribeth sitting on her haunches caressing the indigent’s face as though by doing so she could somehow erase what the interloper truly was in his heart.
Marvin found his voice as the tempest subsided.
“’It shall be so: Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.’”
“Is he speaking to the Major?” Trish asked her daughter.
Maribeth turned to her mother. “Mama, we simply have

to help him,” she whispered.


Imprint

Text: (c) Patrick Sean Lee, 2012
Editing: Patrick Sean Lee
Publication Date: 07-05-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To Pammy

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