Fengriffen & Other Gothic Tales by David Case

Author:David Case [Case, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2015-10-12T22:00:00+00:00

I shook my head.

“You owe me that much, Arthur. At least that much. Some explanation. Whatever it is, I’ll understand. If there’s someone else, if you’re tired of me, if you simply want your freedom, I’ll understand. There’ll be no bitterness. But you can’t simply break it off like this, without even telling me why. It’s inhuman.”

And perhaps she would have understood. Susan, of all people, might have understood. But it was too horrible and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell the doctor who examined me what he was supposed to be looking for. It was a terrible secret, and I had to bear it alone.

“Susan, I can’t tell you.”

She looked towards the window again. The leaded panes distorted the outside world. I thought she was going to cry, then, but she didn’t. Her lip trembled. Waiters moved efficiently past our table, and the other customers wined and dined and pursued their individual lives, while I sat there alone. Susan was there, but I was alone.

“If only you hadn’t gone,” she whispered.

Yes. If only I hadn’t gone. If only a man could relive the past and undo what had been done. But I had gone, and I looked down at the wine shimmering in my glass and recalled how it had happened; recalled those monstrous things which had been, and could never be undone . . .

It is hard to believe that it was only two months since the director of the museum called me to his office on a grim London afternoon. I was excited and expectant about his summons, as I followed the echo of hollow footsteps through those hoary corridors to his office. I was well aware that Jeffries, the head of the anthropology department, planned to retire at the end of the year, and had hopes of being promoted to his position. I can recall the conflicting thoughts that bounded in my head, wondering if I wasn’t too young to expect such promotion, counterbalancing this by mentally listing the well-received work I’d done since I’d been there, remembering that many of my views were opposed to the director’s, but knowing him as a man who respected genuine disagreement and sought out subalterns who did not hesitate to put forth their own theories, and also, perhaps mainly, thinking how delighted Susan would be if I could tell her I’d been promoted and that we could change and hasten our plans in accordance with my new position. Susan wanted children, but was prepared to wait a few years until we could afford them; she wanted a house in the country but had agreed to move into my flat in town. Perhaps, now, we would not have to wait for these things. Visions of happiness and success danced in my head that afternoon, as they do when a man is young and hopeful.

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