Station No. 27
The knock on Rosa’s door surprised her nearly as much as seeing the face of her visitor when she peered through the curtain at the front door. She had not been expecting anyone, and at Rosa’s age, with her friends relatively infirm, nobody stopped by unannounced. Except today.
It was Charles. “What on earth?” she said out loud. She could think of no reason he would be visiting, unless it was to express his displeasure upon finding out that John had been stopping over to see her. John had become a regular visitor, at least twice a week, for months now. Rosa had enjoyed the visits and the conversation, thinking how much John reminded her of her own son, long ago.
“May I come in?” Charles said, with that exaggerated loudness which people often use when trying to speak to someone through a closed window or door.
Rosa opened it as she answered, “Yes, please do. May I get you some tea?”
“Yes, please,” Charles said, rubbing his hands together in a furious way, trying to warm himself against the unseasonably bitter winter.
She shuffled to the kitchen, her slippers nearly skating across the linoleum, to heat some water. All the time she was curious, intensely so, as she wondered what could be the reason for this visit. Charles had been very obvious about his avoidance of Rosa for months, and it seemed ages ago that he has come over at her invitation for a pot of tea.
Charles was aware his visit would seem out of place, especially given the way he had been treating Rosa. But he felt as though it might be a good thing, actually, to visit with her. For weeks he had been talking with Jason about his big questions, life, the chaos and unmanagability of things, now he needed to put those things aside and talk about something less heavy. He was aware John had been visiting Rosa, and, although he was skeptical at first, he had come to believe that it was good for his son. He thought it was something Rosa should know.
“I want to start by saying thank you for befriending John,” Charles said, his voice shaking much more than he thought it would. Something of the reality of just how unkind he had been to Rosa was dawning on him and it unsettled him to see her calmly staring back at him with her little brown eyes.
“You mean —” she started, then caught herself, realizing she had expected the opposite from Charles, “You mean you’re not angry?”
“No, not at all — I mean — at first, yes, but not now,” Charles stammered.
The two talked for a while, then the whistle on the tea kettle broke the conversation, and they switched to less serious matters. Over a pot of Ceylon, Rosa and Charles put their wits together to complete a crossword.
The knock on Rosa’s door surprised her nearly as much as seeing the face of her visitor when she peered through the curtain at the front door. She had not been expecting anyone, and at Rosa’s age, with her friends relatively infirm, nobody stopped by unannounced. Except today.
It was Charles. “What on earth?” she said out loud. She could think of no reason he would be visiting, unless it was to express his displeasure upon finding out that John had been stopping over to see her. John had become a regular visitor, at least twice a week, for months now. Rosa had enjoyed the visits and the conversation, thinking how much John reminded her of her own son, long ago.
“May I come in?” Charles said, with that exaggerated loudness which people often use when trying to speak to someone through a closed window or door.
Rosa opened it as she answered, “Yes, please do. May I get you some tea?”
“Yes, please,” Charles said, rubbing his hands together in a furious way, trying to warm himself against the unseasonably bitter winter.
She shuffled to the kitchen, her slippers nearly skating across the linoleum, to heat some water. All the time she was curious, intensely so, as she wondered what could be the reason for this visit. Charles had been very obvious about his avoidance of Rosa for months, and it seemed ages ago that he has come over at her invitation for a pot of tea.
Charles was aware his visit would seem out of place, especially given the way he had been treating Rosa. But he felt as though it might be a good thing, actually, to visit with her. For weeks he had been talking with Jason about his big questions, life, the chaos and unmanagability of things, now he needed to put those things aside and talk about something less heavy. He was aware John had been visiting Rosa, and, although he was skeptical at first, he had come to believe that it was good for his son. He thought it was something Rosa should know.
“I want to start by saying thank you for befriending John,” Charles said, his voice shaking much more than he thought it would. Something of the reality of just how unkind he had been to Rosa was dawning on him and it unsettled him to see her calmly staring back at him with her little brown eyes.
“You mean —” she started, then caught herself, realizing she had expected the opposite from Charles, “You mean you’re not angry?”
“No, not at all — I mean — at first, yes, but not now,” Charles stammered.
The two talked for a while, then the whistle on the tea kettle broke the conversation, and they switched to less serious matters. Over a pot of Ceylon, Rosa and Charles put their wits together to complete a crossword.
