Author: allen0997
It’s Not the Pale Moon That Excites Me
It’s Not the Pale Moon That Excites Me
~ A Short Story by Allen Kopp ~
(This is a repost. It has been published in The Literary Hatchet.)
They sat on the front porch to catch the cooling breezes. Mrs. Llewellyn fanned herself with a cardboard fan courtesy of Benoist Funeral Home and took pulls on a bottle of “medicinal” whiskey she kept in her apron pocket. Miss Clemson, the nearest neighbor, sat on the steps close to Mrs. Llewellyn, holding her hands demurely around her ankles to keep her skirt in place.
“Gets mighty lonely over at my place sometimes,” Miss Clemson said. “Especially of an evening.”
“You should have found yourself a man to marry,” Mrs. Llewellyn said.
“I still might.”
“At your age?”
“I’m only fifty-four,” Miss Clemson said. “And, anyway, the world don’t revolve around no man. I know plenty of women manage just fine without a man orderin’ ‘em about the place.”
“Well, I’ve had four husbands and I can’t say I’d recommend it,” Mrs. Llewellyn said.
“There’s a rumor going around that you just received a proposal of marriage from a Mr. Chin. Is that right?”
“Yes, a Mr. Chin asked me to marry him,” Mrs. Llewellyn said, “but I turned him down.”
“Is he a Chinaman?”
“No, why would he be a Chinaman?”
“Well, that’s what the name sounds like.”
“No, he ain’t a Chinaman.”
“Well, what then?”
“I don’t know what he is, but he ain’t no Chinaman.”
“Why don’t you marry him if he wants to marry you?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s covered with scales.”
“You mean like a snake?”
“Exactly like a snake.”
“I guess a woman could get used to a few snake scales if the man was a good man,” Miss Clemson said.
“I don’t think I ever could. I’d have to turn away when he was gettin’ dressed, or at least turn the light off.”
“Maybe he’ll just shed them scales in the woods during moltin’ season and not have them anymore.”
“Why are you so interested in Mr. Chin’s scales?”
“Well, if he’s marriage-minded, maybe the two of us ought to meet. We might strike up a real lively friendship.”
“The next time I see him I’ll send him over your way,” Mrs. Llewellyn said.
“Will you really?”
“When you see them scales, you might change your mind.”
“Well, I really don’t think I’d mind the scales all that much as long as he keeps them hidden during the daytime when he’s dressed. The scales are not on his face, are they?”
“Not yet.”
“As long as they’re not on his face, I think we’d be all right, then.”
“The scales is not the only reason I don’t want to marry Mr. Chin,” Mrs. Llewellyn confided.
“What, then?”
“I don’t want him moonin’ around over my granddaughter Laura Louise all the time.”
“Oh, yes. I almost forgot about Laura Louise.”
“She lives with me, you know. I’m all the family she’s got left since her maw killed herself in the river.”
“Do you think Mr. Chin might be particularly drawn to her?”
“I think he’d never stop starin’ at her.”
“Well, if staring’s all he done, that wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Yeah, but the starin’ would lead to pawin’ and the pawin’ would lead to other things.”
“I think I see what you mean. She has turned into a right pretty little thing.”
“She’s got her womanly wiles. It’ll just take the right man to bring it out in her.”
“Do you think Mr. Chin might be the one to do that?”
“I think any man might do it, even one covered in scales.”
“Does she still go swimmin’ naked in the river?”
“I don’t think she swims naked no more, no. Not since she accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as her personal savior.”
“The Lord certainly works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform.”
“Don’t He, though?”
“There for a while she seemed headed down the road to damnation.”
“Most of that was rumor. You know what nasty tongues people have.”
“They said she was havin’ an affair with I-don’t-know-who-all, even Dr. Birke in town.”
“She went to him for a bladder infection. He treated her and she came home and that’s all there was to it.”
“That’s not what people says.”
“Do you think I care what people says?”
“No, I know you don’t care.”
“But, I’ll tell you on the other hand. I didn’t definitely turn Mr. Chin down.”
“What? You think you still might marry him?”
“If that’s the way the chips fall.”
“What do you mean? What chips?”
“Well, since Laura Louise has got herself so keen on religion, she thinks she might want to dedicate her life to the spreading of the Gospel.”
“You mean as a lady preacher?”
“Well, something like that. She’s got it into her head that she wants to go to Darkest Africa and become a missionary.”
“Darkest Africa? What would she do there?”
“She’d teach them headhunters to put down their spears and accept the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal savior, same as she done.”
“Lord, I wouldn’t want to go to Darkest Africa!” Miss Clemson said. “I’d be scared out of my wits every minute!”
“That’s because you’re an ignorant woman. Them missionaries get training before they go. They learn how to deal with them natives and make their sit down and read the Bible and listen to hymns.”
“Well, it might be right for some people, but I don’t think I would ever choose that kind of life for myself.”
“Laura Louise is all the family I got left. All my children and grandchildren has died or run off and left me. Laura Louise is the only one left to sweep out the house and fetch me what I need and cook me a little supper of an evening. She’s the only one left to keep me company in my old age. And she’s the only one to see that I’m put into the ground proper when my time comes.”
“Oh, I think I see what you’re sayin’,” Miss Clemson said. “If Laura Louise goes off to Darkest Africa, you could still marry Mr. Chin and he could do all them things for you that Laura Louise does now.”
“You catch on quick.”
“But you’d only marry Mr. Chin if you don’t still have Laura Louise at home?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m sure the Lord will work it all out for you. He’ll come up with the solution that’s right for all parties concerned.”
“I guess so,” Mrs. Llewellyn said.
“I think I see somebody comin’ up the road now,” Miss Clemson said.
“That’ll be Laura Louise, come from service.”
“Good evening, Laura Louise, dear!” Miss Clemson said in a loud voice. “How are you? There’s going to be a lovely full moon tonight, did you know that? It kind of puts you in mind of romance, don’t it?”
“Hello,” Laura Louise said.
“Them services are gettin’ longer and longer, ain’t they?” Mrs. Llewellyn said. “I’ve been waitin’ for my supper.”
“Your supper will just have to wait, gran,” Laura Louise said. “I just got some good news at the end of service and I’ve just got to tell you what it is!”
“Whatever could it be?” Miss Clemson asked.
“I’ve been accepted in missionary school in Memphis, Tennessee! School starts in two weeks. It’ll last for two months and after that I’ll go over to Darkest Africa to do the Lord’s work!”
“My goodness!” Miss Clemson said. “That is excitin’ news, ain’t it?”
“How long will you be gone?” Mrs. Llewellyn asked.
“Oh, I don’t know! Years and years, I guess! Isn’t it wonderful? Brother Rabbit arranged the whole thing over the telephone. He told the people in Memphis what a good worker I am and how dedicated I am to the Lord. They told him to send me on up. They can’t wait for me to get started.”
“That’s fine,” Mrs. Llewellyn said, “but who’s goin’ to do your work around here while you’re gone?”
“What work?” Laura Louise asked.
“You would say that, wouldn’t you? That’s because you’re so selfish! What work do you suppose? Cleanin’ and cookin’ and washin’ and all the rest of the housework waitin’ to be done, that’s what work!”
“Why, I don’t know, gran. I guess you’ll have to get yourself a hired girl to help out, won’t you?”
“And just where am I goin’ to get the money for that?”
“The Lord will provide.”
“I think it’s just wonderful!” Miss Clemson said. “You were turnin’ out to be such a tramp around these parts, takin’ up with any man that would give you the time of day—including Dr. Birke in town—and now just look at you! The Lord has taken a-holt of you and turned you around into the kind of girl He always wanted you to be! Praise the Lord!”
“I’m just so excited about it I’m about to burst! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight!”
“Well, just go on in now and get started on my supper now,” Mrs. Llewellyn said. “There’ll be plenty of time later to be excited.”
“Do you want to stay and eat supper with us, Miss Clemson?” Laura Louise asked.
“I don’t think so, honey, but thanks for askin’. I need to get myself on home.”
After Laura Louise went into the house to start cooking supper, Miss Clemson turned to Mrs. Llewellyn and said, “I think I hear wedding bells!”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, now that Laura Louise is goin’ off to Darkest Africa to be a missionary, you’ll want to marry Mr. Chin as fast as you can so he can do all your work for you, won’t you?”
“Not so fast! She thinks right now that she’s goin’ to Darkest Africa to be a missionary, but what if I say she’s not?”
“You mean you gonna try to stop her?”
“I think I’m goin’ to pay a call on Brother Rabbit at the church tomorrow and tell him to stop meddlin’ in my affairs. Laura Louise ain’t nothin’ but a child and she’s almost feeble-minded to boot. She needs her grandma, her only living family, to look after her and keep her safe. She can’t be goin’ off on her own to no Darkest Africa to be no missionary. She’d be a babe in the woods. Why, they’d eat her alive!”
“Well, I don’t know,” Miss Clemson said. “It certainly seems the Lord is pointin’ her in that direction and if He’s decided it’s the right thing for her to do, then He’ll make it happen, no matter what.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
“Are you really goin’ to see Brother Rabbit tomorrow at the church?”
“I said I am, didn’t I?”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, I’d rather go alone.”
“Well, good luck, but I don’t think you should go pokin’ your nose in. Laura Louise is a grown woman and if she’s decided she wants to go to Darkest Africa to be missionary, then I think you should just let it alone.”
“Do you have a granddaughter?”
“You know I ain’t. I ain’t ever even been married.”
“Well, until you have your own granddaughter, you can’t know what it’s like to have her leave you and go off to Darkest Africa to be a missionary.”
“Well, all right, then, honey. I won’t say another word about it.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think my supper is about ready and I’m hungry. I don’t like to be kept waitin’.”
“All right, honey. I’ll go on home now and eat my own lonely supper. And after I’m finished and all the dishes are washed up and put away, I’ll get into bed and look out the window at the big old sad yellow moon. It’ll remind me of all the things that might have been and never were.”
Copyright © 2021 by Allen Kopp
My Policeman ~ A Capsule Book Review
My Policeman
~ A Capsule Book Review by Allen Kopp ~
My Policeman, a novel by Bethan Roberts, is set mostly in 1957 in the seaside town of Brighton, England. Marion Taylor is an unmarried teacher of small children. There is a man she likes named Tom Burgess. She doesn’t understand Tom very well; she wonders why he is cool toward her and rather aloof. He is handsome, blond, athletic and well-built; he goes swimming in the sea every morning and he eventually teaches her to swim.
Tom is what might be called a straight-arrow type. As a police officer, he is interested in projecting an image of conventionality and respectability. Marion falls in love with him, while he remains blasé on the whole matter of courtship and marriage. She begins to suspect he is gay but believes that she can get him to change, if only he will marry her. Because marriage is what is expected of every young man and because he must project an image of respectability to the world, Tom marries Marion. We can see it’s a marriage that probably isn’t going to be a smashing success.
Tom meets a man thirteen years older than himself named Patrick Hazelwood. Patrick is worldly and sophisticated; he works as a curator in a museum and knows the world of art, music and books. He is also unabashedly gay, at a time in England when sexual activity between men was still a crime and punishable by confinement in prison.
Patrick and Tom begin a “discreet” relationship, although Tom, as a police constable, must be very careful that his “secret” is never revealed. Marion knows that Tom and Patrick are “friends” but doesn’t suspect (at first) the true nature of the relationship. She wants to believe that Tom, with her help, might be cured of his “affliction.” (None so blind as those who will not see.)
Patrick invites Tom to go on a trip with him to romantic Venice. While Tom thinks there is nothing wrong with the two of them going to Venice together, Marion, as Tom’s wife, doesn’t take it well; she is jealous and moved to commit an uncharitable act, to put it mildly. It is this trip to Venice that provides the catalyst for the novel’s tragic third act.
The novel alternates between first-person passages narrated first by Marion and then by Patrick. They are both besotted with Tom. While most of the action takes place in the late 1950s, some of the novel is set in the late 1990s, showing how these three characters change over forty years through the unique dynamic they share.
My Policeman espouses the themes of jealousy, guilt, and the stupidity of laws that govern human sexual behavior (the lengths to which these laws force people to go to conceal their true natures). It is a memorable, intelligent, adult story. It’s not a story I would recommend to my elderly mother but, then, she and I are tuned to completely different frequencies.
Copyright © 2021 by Allen Kopp
Gender Ambiguity
Gender Ambiguity
~ A Short Story by Allen Kopp ~
They sat in a semicircle in front of the television. Old black-and-white movies, they agreed, were the best thing to watch on TV. Not only were they clean, but they brought back memories of happier times.
“Rita Hayworth is certainly a lovely woman,” Ivy said.
“Woman!” Jane said. “Don’t you know she’s really a man?”
“Rita Hayworth is a man? I don’t think so!”
“Hell yes, she’s a man! Everybody knows she’s a man!”
“That must have come as a surprise to Mr. Orson Welles,” Vernon said.
“He knew she was a man before he married her.”
“How do you know so much about it?” Ivy asked.
“I read those newspapers they sell at the supermarket checkout,” Jane said.
“Of course, that makes you an authority,” George said.
“I know what I see. If I see it in print, I believe it.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of being skeptical?”
“What’s that?”
Myrtle sat forward in her chair and pretended to burp her baby, a lifelike doll made of rubber. Everybody turned and looked at her.
“How is Baby Doe, Myrtle?” Ivy asked.
“He’s the best baby in the world,” Myrtle said.
“That’s because he’s not a real boy,” George said.
“Is he eating his carrots?”
“Oh, yes! He eats everything I give him!”
“We believe what we want to believe,” Vernon said with a roll of the eyes.
“Do you know today is my birthday?” Ivy asked.
“I don’t think so, dear,” Jane said. “I think your birthday is in December, isn’t it? Right before Christmas?”
“If I want today to be my birthday, then it’s my birthday.”
“How old are you?” George asked.
“You should never ask a lady her age,” Jane said.
“I’m as old as I want to be,” Ivy said. “If I want to be twenty-one today, then I’m twenty-one.”
“There you go!” Vernon said.
“I wouldn’t want to be twenty-one again and have to go through all that shit again,” George said. “When I was twenty-one, I was in jail.”
“What for?”
“They got me on a robbery charge but I was innocent. I was in the slammer for two and a half years.”
“I’m surprised they let you out,” Ivy said.
“I paid my debt.”
“I thought you said you were innocent.”
“I was.”
“Then why did you owe a debt?”
“Twenty-one was so long ago that I can’t even remember back that far,” Jane said.
“Wasn’t that about the time Lee surrendered to Grant?” George asked.
“It’s time for me to put Baby Doe down for his nap,” Myrtle said. She threw the baby by the arm behind the couch, hitting the wall with a thud. “He’ll be fine until his two o’clock feeding.”
“Whatever happened to your husband?” Ivy asked.
“He’s still in the war,” Myrtle said.
“What war is that?”
“Isn’t there always a war going on someplace?”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s been about fifty-seven years.”
“But what about Baby Doe? Are you saying that somebody besides your husband is Baby Doe’s father?”
“Of course, not! What kind of a tramp do you think I am?”
“She creates her own reality,” Vernon said, “which is not altogether a bad thing when you think about it.”
“And when my husband sees Baby Doe, he is going to be so happy!” Myrtle said, tears in her eyes.
“What is your husband’s name?” Jane said. “I haven’t ever met him.”
“His name is Percival, I think. Unless he’s changed it.”
“Why would he change it?”
“He’s impulsive that way.”
“Fifty-seven years is a long time for your man to be away at war.”
“Don’t I know it? I get so lonely for him sometimes I think I’m going to go mad! I don’t know what I’d do without my little Baby Doe.”
“My own children were never much of a comfort to me,” Jane said. “They never liked me very much.”
“That’s because they had a witch for a mother,” George said.
“And if you want to know the truth, I never liked them all that much, either.”
“How many children did you have, dear?” Myrtle asked.
“Seven.”
“That’s a lot for somebody who doesn’t like kids!” Vernon said.
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know. Some are dead, I think. Some are in prison.”
“Hey!” Ivy said. “The movie with Rita Hayworth is over and another one is beginning.”
“Which movie is it?”
“This one stars Bette Davis.”
“Oh, I like her!”
“It’s the one where she steals Olivia de Havilland’s husband and drives her car through a fence and breaks her neck when the police are after her.”
“In This Our Life,” Vernon said.
“What a memory you have for an old bastard!”
“We just watched it last week. Don’t you remember?”
“Is Bette Davis really a man?” Ivy asked.
“No, I believe she’s really a woman,” Jane said. “I’m not too sure about Olivia de Havilland, though.”
“I think Olivia is definitely a woman,” George said.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”
“What is that movie where Lana Turner and John Garfield kill her husband?” Ivy asked.
“The Postman Always Rings Twice.”
“Yes, that’s it. I’d like to see that one again.”
“Is Lana Turner really a man?”
“She started out as a man,” Jane said, “but she had a sex-change operation. Now she’s a woman.”
“Maybe she’ll go back to being a man again,” Vernon said.
“Anything goes with those motion picture people.”
“They get sick and die just like the rest of us,” Jane said. “Beauty fades and then what do you have?”
“Ugly.”
As if on cue, Nurse Tillinghast came into the room, rolling the medicine cart.
“Time for your meds, people,” she said in her voice that was like fingernails on a blackboard.
“You take it,” George said. “I don’t want any.”
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Nurse Tillinghast said. “Take your meds and then you can get back to your movie.”
“We were just discussing whether Lana Turner is really a man,” George said. “We’re about evenly divided.”
“A lot of those movie actresses are really men, or so we’ve been told,” Ivy said.
“Everything is all illusion, you see,” Vernon said.
“I wish I had nothing better to do,” Nurse Tillinghast said, “than sit around all day and talk about which women might really be men.”
“Are you really a man? George asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out!” Nurse Tillinghast said. “To you, I’m just a sexless dispenser of meds. Now take your meds and let me get on with my rounds.”
The meds were handed out and swallowed and Nurse Tillinghast pushed the cart out of the room.
“What is that movie about a women’s prison where they have a cruel matron who shaves somebody’s head?” Jane asked.
“Caged,” Vernon said.
“That’s it! Tillinghast looks just like the cruel matron in Caged.”
“The matron’s name is Evelyn.”
“That’s right. How do you remember all that stuff?”
“I’m having a really lucid day today. Tomorrow I might not remember a thing.”
“Come to think of it, I think Nurse Tillinghast really is a man,” George said. “She has a big nose and big hands.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Ivy said. “I think we should accept at face value all we see. That’s what God wants us to do.”
“How do you know what God wants?”
“I talk to Him all the time!”
“It’s all illusion,” Vernon said. “We create our own illusion. If you want to believe you’re talking to God, then you’re talking to God. If you want to believe that Bette Davis is really a man, then she’s a man.”
“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?”
Copyright © 2021 by Allen Kopp
Literary Fictions 