Fiddler's Green

Just a simple love story.

Laurell curled up in a small loose ball, hugging her knees close to her chest. She watched her lover stride with precision, the kind of precision you achieve only in old age, into the kitchen to whip up a less than elaborate, yet tasty breakfast for the two of them. As he always did. Laurell held her breathe momentarily to catch the soft fleshy padding of Nory's feet against the grey stone-tile floor, breathing cautiously now, she listened as his body spoke to her.
Looking around, Laurell spread her body stiffly over the deep red Lay-Z Boy recliner the stood posted in the middle of Nory's crowded and cramped living room. Not necessarily his pride and joy, furniture wise, yet, the best piece visible at the moment. The living room, much like the rest of Nory's domain, looked as if a woman had not come within one-hundred yards of it in years, though if you looked close enough you could see that a woman had once left an impression.
Pointless, yet, elegant paintings clung to the sun bleached walls, small soap stone figurines and wood carvings sat atop shelves under thick layers of dust. Though silhouettes gave a good impression, Laurell wished fiercely to know what lie beneath those Blankets of soot.
Laurell rested hers hands over top each other on top of her diaphragm, she stared now at the cream-coloured ceiling. The sizzle of butter and the clacking of pots, pans and other cooking utensils now engulfed her lovers noises, Laurell regretted letting them slip away. She was startled when Nory pressed his hand firmly at the base of her neck, extending his digits to her shoulder. She could not remember whether she had had her eyes opened or closed before he had approached her. Laurell opened her eyes wide now and looked lovingly into his eyes.
" It's almost ready, " Nory said briskly with a smile.
" Okay, " Laurell's raspy voice took her by surprise, after clearing her voice she asked him to sit with her.
Getting up, Laurell motioned for Nory to sit in the recliner, he took her offer and sat down with discomfort. His joints were always stiff and stubborn in the mornings and Laurell hated seeing him that way. As he sat more comfortably he took Laurell by the waist and whisked her, quite literally, off her feet and on to his lap. He gave a big toothy smile.
" You look great in the morning, so bright." He said to her, cradling her on his lapp. " Don't think of this as as corny as I expect it to sound, but you look like an angel. "
" Oh, what cheese!" Laurell smiled and buried her head in his neck. She brought up her head and looked at Nory with warm eyes.
His face was wrinkled and craggy with age, lighted glinted off the lenses of his glasses allowing her no access to the delicious brown eyes beneath. She brought her sight down to his large, husky body, impulsively she brought her hand over his chest and rubbed, pressing her palm against his cotton sweater vest firmly. Even at these moments she neglected to consider his age of sixty-five and hers of sixteen. He was not her teacher. He was a teacher, yet, not hers. He was not married. He loved her. She loved him. To her that made their affair acceptable, though deep down she knew that wasn't a reality. She seldom wondered if her ignorance would destroy them both, but when she did, thoughts brewed in her mind that should not brew in the mind of any youth. The most prominent, her ability to obliterate Nory without even knowing it, stuck with her painfully, it gripped her heart with stubborn claws and torn fom there on out.

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Nory smoothly and swiftly pulled out Laurell's chair before she could get to it, being the chivalrous type, Nory ceased to amaze her. Boys her own age just didn't know how to treat a girl. At that thought, a small feminist voice within Laurell began to speak, she quickly muffled it. Nothing would spoil their meal together, she cherished these hours with Nory the above all. The "casuality" of them.
Laurell sat with a smile directed at Nory, a silent 'thank you'. He accepted, and sat close beside her. Sprawled sporadically on top the table were bowls of various magnitudes and make up, some stainless steel, some looked as if they had been bought in the 60's [which they probably had been] and looked like something you would pull out of your great grandmother's cupboard. These bowls were filled with hash browns, various kosher meats that Laurell paid little attention to, eggs that would not be finished due to the fact that a large plate of fresh waffle lie steaming at the center of the table top, aside that, a medium sized picture of syrup, fresh from the farmer's market.
" I bought that syrup for you." He paused, adjusting his chair. " I remember you said you'd never had maple syrup from Quebec. Now, I thought it was of the utmost importance that I get some to you right away. " He laughed and looked at Laurell's hand, that lie near her bare plate.
" Ah, I hope it wasn't too much of a task to get it for me." Laurell grinned happily, the fact that he'd done that for her was strangely intriguing her.
" No, you know I almost wish it had been hard to find, or really expensive... I wish it was in some way... any way... tribulating to acquire. Would it not have meant more to you? "
" Well, I'm just glad that you remembered our little conversation about syrups. That was what? like four months ago." Laurell said as her and Nory had now fully ingaged in placing food on their plates.
"So, what's new?" Laurell asked cheerfully.
" Oh, you know I hate when you ask me 'what's new?', for goodness sake you know nothing is ever knew in my life." Nory said with a painful voice, chuckling at the same time, Laurell joined him.
" Well, what's... um, old?"
" I'm old..."
" Nory..."
" Oh, well... I have gotten some hate mail recently." Nory said dramatically sliding up a syrupy waffle.
Laurell cringed, she hoped it wasn't too noticeable. " Oh, yeah? From who?" She knew who. Well she didn't exactly know who, but she had made her assumptions. Someone had been leaving anti-semetic letter's at Nory's doorstep lately, Swasticka's painted on the windows or on the door were washable and showed the cowardly nature of the culprits. Still, Laurell wanted to cry when she heard this news. Today's breakfast wouldn't be so great after all. No matter how much Nory told her it was nothing.

The End

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