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Passions in Prose

Cupid's Middle Man

Adonis Cross
Junior Member

since 2003-04-07

Posts 46
Miami, FL, USA

0 posted 2003-05-13 12:58 PM

Elliot resignedly decided it would be futile to pursue a romantic relationship between him and Lisa. The resolve brought about two problematic questions. The first is common among young men who make the decision Elliot made; it is the question of how to forget the object of one’s desire is the object of one’s desire. Elliot, having more intelligence than most young men, knew struggling to answer that question could easily land him in a grave, or worse, an asylum. Knowing this, he focused his thoughts on his other, more unique problem—how was he to stop sending the anonymous, amorous letters to Lisa? He couldn’t very well just stop. She would wonder what happened to the author of such beautiful words—did he die, or worse, find someone else to admire? In her mind, the scenarios would be limitless, and Elliot couldn’t bear to burden her mind in that manner. He knew it would be incredibly harsh sending an anonymous letter stating he would no longer be writing letters, with or without giving a reason. It just wasn’t good form.
Lisa was at the marketplace, selling her very popular rum cakes from her vendor’s cart. One could debate over the main reason the cakes were selling well. Some would say the cakes, when sampled, simply sold themselves—Lisa made them with her own secret recipe; they couldn’t be purchased anywhere else. Others, especially those jealous of her superior confectioner’s skills, would credit her alluring appearance. Her reddish-brown hair perfectly framed her face, and was a shade that flawlessly complimented her complexion. When she smiled at you, you became her willing prisoner. She borrowed two stars from the sky and placed one inside of each eye, so if you said her eyes were heavenly, you would be right. Above all else, what made Lisa beautiful was her having no idea how beautiful she was. She tended to be self-deprecating. When she first found a letter taped to the side of her cart praising her features, she believed it was someone’s bad idea of a joke before she considered the possibility of someone actually admiring her.
The morning brought yet another one of those letters for Lisa, the most romantic one by far. The passionate poet claimed that, because of her, he could be a greater writer than Shakespeare was, since there was no one who lived during the Renaissance who could have inspired the need to immortalize beauty as she could. Because she already sold an unusually large quantity of her wares during the slow traffic of the morning, she busied herself with reading the letter repeatedly, a breathless sigh leaving her lips every time she reached the final sentence. More than ever, she wanted to learn the identity of her secret suitor.
Elliot began to walk to the marketplace, deciding he would visit Lisa and reveal himself as her admirer. Unfortunately, the decision was born from desperation, and in Elliot’s mind, such decisions didn’t last long, for he knew desperate acts could give birth to dire consequences. Besides, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the vulnerability that accompanies a profession of love delivered personally. He stopped in a park near the marketplace, and on his favorite bench, pondered his next move with the intensity of a chess master.
A young man fumbling with a precarious stack of boxes stopped at Elliot’s bench. He panted as he set the boxes beside Elliot and leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees as he paused to regain his stamina. Elliot didn’t recognize him, but felt there was something familiar in what he was observing. Then he noticed each box bore Lisa’s trademark lipstick stain on it.
“I see you enjoy a good rum cake now and then”, Elliot joked with the stranger. “I guess you already know Lisa’s are the best.”
“Dunno”, the stranger replied. “Never had ‘em.”
“Ah, then these all must be for friends of yours who know of Lisa’s cakes”, Elliot reasoned.
“Nope, these are mine.”
“Oh.” Elliot became puzzled. “Why did you buy so many of something you’ve never had?”
“Ain’t you ever met Lisa?” The young stranger queried almost incredulously as he stood and began straightening the stack. “She’s the most sweetest thing I’ve met since movin’ to this town. I reckon if I see ‘er too many times, my senses’ll go all haywire or somethin’. That’s why I bought all these here cakes, so if I like ‘em I won’t hafta go back and git more right away!” The stranger shuddered at the thought and, having reloaded the boxes in his arms, resumed his walk.
At first, Elliot laughed to himself at the stranger’s comments—Lisa’s spell effortlessly transformed yet another young man into a fool. Then he sprang to his feet and ran as if he was Mercury. The startled stranger almost dropped his load when Elliot caught up with him.
“How long have you lived here?” Elliot breathed raggedly.
“’Bout a coupla weeks, I ‘spose”, the stranger answered. “Why?”
“Well,” Elliot began to improvise a lie, “I have a custom of assisting newcomers as soon as possible, so they feel welcome. My name’s Elliot.” He extended his hand.
“I’m Lenny.” He shook Elliot’s hand and the bulk fell to earth.
“Here, let me help you right away.” Elliot aided Lenny in picking up the mess. “I’ll carry this half for you, just lead the way. Don’t you think it’s a nice personal touch, how she kisses each box?”
"Lucky boxes is what I think”, Lenny muttered. “Now why wasn’t I born a box?”
“If you were a box, you wouldn’t be able to return the kiss”, Elliot noted. “And you couldn’t tell her all the things her kisses do to you.”
“Heck, I cain’t do that now. Guess I got more in common with these here boxes than I thought.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, my friend.”
“How ya figure?”
“Just tell her what you told me—she’s the sweetest thing you’ve met since you arrived.”
“Aw, heck no. I ain’t got the courage to talk to regular gals. I didn’t even say a word to Lisa—I just held up my fingers to tell ‘er how many boxes I wanted.”
“Well, you don’t necessarily have to say a word”, Elliot began. He was very accomplished at what he was doing. “Have you ever been someone’s secret admirer?”
“You mean like writin’ love notes an’ all that?” Lenny shook his head. “Never been no good at writin’.”
“You just used a double negative—that means you are good at writing.”
“But I ain’t.”
“I know.”
“But…you just said—”
“Forget what I said. I can help you say what you want to say. Let’s just get to your house.” Elliot realized his less than eloquent associate would make what was a simple plan quite a project.
Upon arriving at Lenny’s house, he and Elliot sat at the dining room table and opened a box of rum cakes. Elliot then attempted to give Lenny a crash course in the rules of grammar and the effectiveness of metaphor and simile when used in romantic poetry.
“So if I tell ‘er that when I see ‘er my heart starts racin’ like a greased up pig at a rodeo, that’s a simile, ain’t it?”
Lenny was about to get Elliot physically sick. “Yes, that’s a simile, though I’m not sure you want to write something like that.”
“So I should use a metaphor, right? ‘My heart is a greased up pig’. Ya think she’ll know that I only mean the racing part of the pig, an’ not all the greasiness? An’ the squealin’?”
Elliot wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his rum cakes down. “Lenny, you want to impress Lisa—you want to woo her. Are you sure want to liken yourself to swine?”
Lenny thought about it. “I ‘spose not.”
“Good.”
“Perhaps a big ol’ bull would be better…say, buddy, you don’t look so good. Wanna use my restroom? I hope it ain’t the rum cakes that did it.”
By the time he emerged from Lenny’s restroom, Elliot had a new plan.
“You are going to repeat this”, Elliot announced. He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and wrote on one of the empty rum cake boxes, then slid it across the table to Lenny.
Lenny squinted at the box. “If anyone lived forever, they would never see anything as beautiful as you are to me”, he read.
“Wonderful!” Elliot exclaimed. The phrase was from one of the letters Elliot penned for Lisa. “I guarantee your heart’s desires will be made apparent to Lisa once she hears those words! Those words!”
“Well, it is a mighty nice thing to say to a gal”, Lenny slowly agreed, “But I don’t think I could ever say somethin’ like this.”
Elliot was nearing exasperation. He didn’t like vomiting. “You have a choice, pal. You can sit here in this dining room surrounded by boxes luckier than you, or you can take my advice and repeat what you just read to Lisa’s face.”
“Heck, I ain’t got a problem with sayin’ it”, said Lenny. “But what else’m I gonna say after that? I cain’t talk all sophisticated like.”
Elliot thought for a moment. “There’s only so much you’ll need to say. I’ll write it all down here before you go see her.”
Lisa was sold out of rum cakes at the end of the day. That kind of success always gave her a beautiful feeling, and when combined with the feeling she got from the letter received that day, she felt as if she could float home.
As she prepared to leave the marketplace, a young man who Lisa recognized as the mute one from the morning approached her cart. “I’m sorry, but I’m sold out”, she told him. “You may certainly come back tomorrow—I’d appreciate the business.”
Lenny hesitated a bit before responding, “If anyone lived forever, they would never see anything as beautiful as you are to me.”
Lisa gasped and froze. Lenny became just as still. Perched on a tree branch, within earshot, Elliot waited nervously.
“Are you…who I think you are?” Lisa’s voice was barely above a whisper. Elliot cringed, realizing he made the mistake of not giving Lenny enough details, and hence, not enough to say.
Lenny believed Lisa was asking him if he was the same young man who bought the majority of her wares in the morning. “Yes”, he responded.
Lisa was elated. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve loved your incredible words?”
Elliot cringed even more.
“Um…no?” Lenny replied, confused. Elliot was now in a fetal position.
“Don’t be so modest”, Lisa continued. “You can look at me and tell what effect you have on me. It’s obvious. In fact, after this morning, I decided that whoever you were, I’d want to be yours forever!”
“Wha—?” Lenny’s question was cut short as Lisa threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with a passion that would make those boxes envious. He wasn’t sure why it was happening, but Lenny willingly lost himself in the moment with Lisa. They didn’t hear what sounded like a groan, followed by sparrows chirping as they fled from the huge, heavy thing that fell into their bush.

Marilyn
Member Elite

since 1999-09-26

Posts 2621
Ontario, Canada

1 posted 2003-05-16 09:46 AM

Isn't it typical that life would throw such a curve? Thanks for the read.

Marilyn.

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