In the Darkness a Strange Angel

by

Manxman Andrews

We were two quiet boys living in the city in the summer of the Korean war, when John suddenly grew a moustache and left me with the kitty cat, while he went on the road. He went with his moustache to demonstrate new hairstyles in Thelma Gray beauty shops and they were both very famous, he and his moustache. I have never liked moustaches. I stayed home and was infamous.

Not at first, but I was lonely. John had this good job, but it was just an excuse for going to the bars of the nation. He was suddenly mad about bars. I felt left alone forever. He had finished school, got a job, and left me. When we had our talk, I left everything in his hands. That made him start thinking and talking, and I almost had him back.

Our drinks made rings on the furniture-I fashionably mixed martinis without vermouth, desiring to be sinful with him, but he did not want to be sinfuland the nightgowned landlady knocked on the door.

She wanted to complain of the loud talk and music, and I watched the heavy sock on John's left foot and wanted to kiss it, his foot. That was the first time he left me and the last time I wanted to kiss his foot.

It was a dark time for me after that. I would not answer the telephone. I did not want to know if he called.

With all his new cities and bars and parks where he would be a new face and the center of attraction, a celebrity, I do not think he would have called me anyway. He did not leave immediately. He helped me move.

I took Sandra the cat with me and moved to a small walk-up flat just by the park. John helped me by carrying one lamp and two half-empty bottles of whiskey. We finished them both, and the lamps. We drank and argued about bars and parks. That was the last time we really argued. Sometimes we say hello when we meet.

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