Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Gloria, Season Two: The Reading Man decides

Mr. Apotienne knew Mongolian wrestling, at least as an observer.  He had seen it, had taken part in the festivities that surrounded it.  Where he once thought of his inner struggles as Greco-Roman matches, he came to know they were full-on Mongolian, one of The Three Manly Skills.  When he had a dispute to resolve with himself, he now pictured the open field, the crowds, the deep hues of traditional wrestling attire, ferocity and strength.  He knew the better man would win.
So he presented both sides of his mostly logical argument as to whether or not something was truly a secret if it was just information that had not been shared.  As he debated the intention, which was not to hide anything shameful but more to maintain a comfortable, low profile, he grew aware that the facts gnawed at him like a secret, which let him know it was one.  With a solid thump, wrestler A dropped to his left knee, which in the Mongolian interpretation meant losing.  Wrestler B stood in triumph and Mr. Apotienne sighed, preparing to tell Gloria he was somewhat, however slightly, other than as he appeared.

For a creature with even a pin-dot less integrity, this would not have been an issue.  No manly men would have needed to suit up, no massed locals collected to watch.  It would have been a non-thing, a factoid dropped in casual conversation.  There were occasions, not many, for which he and all who knew him were grateful, when Mr. Apotienne over-thought matters. 

Before arriving at the tea shop, The Reading Man had decided to ask Gloria to dinner that evening.  He was comfortable with any answer she gave.  It was short notice but it was also spontaneous.  Inland, one of the towns held a monthly barbecue during the summer, late spring and early fall, and fluffed it out with a farmers' market, swap meet and shops staying open longer than usual.  TRM had seen a flyer or poster somewhere the day before, reminding him of the event.  His plan was to knock at the kitchen door after his walk and extend the invitation.  Having wrestled his way to an answer already, he anticipated a peaceful time up and down the shore, time to empty his mind, let go of doubt or debate and allow inspiration to visit, if it cared to.


Erin in Morro Bay said...

I have oft wrestled in my mind, but never in Mongolian style! What hidden depths our reading man possesses.

susan t. landry said...

it struck me this morning, reading this, that this unfurling story is like a dream in that we enter the different rooms of the writer's mind.

Marylinn Kelly said...

Erin - A man of parts, as they used to say. xo

Marylinn Kelly said...

Susan - It feels exactly that way for the writer and everything is grist for the mill. xo

Anonymous said...

That seals it.
I love TRM.

Marylinn Kelly said...

Lisa - We should start a fan club. xo