Marchi

By Philip Demak

Marchi, already a widower and living far from his sons and grandchildren, keeps himself busy at a bookstore he owns. A man with very few friends, native of France and self-exiled some time after the last world war, devotes himself to thinking, recalling his life events and looking closely at the present world. An encounter one day with a teenage girl opens a door that allows him to talk about his philosophy of life, bringing along a new perspective to his own ideas.

The core of the conversations held by these two main characters can be described by the book’s opening phrase:

“You know Katherine? We keep on waiting for life to come when life is really going on.”

Take a look at someone you’d like to talk to, someone you’d like to meet, someone who does not read the papers but is acquainted with life, someone that will surprise you.

A look at better times? No, just different ones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Demak
• Release date: May 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301225668

Philip Demak

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Marchi

By Philip Demak

°°°

Copyright 2013 Philip Demak

Smashwords edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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°°°

Marchi

To Mme Ercheu,

Montreal, Canada, 1984.

You know Katherine? We keep on waiting for life to come, when life is really going on.

°°°

Marchi

Contents

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven part one

Chapter eleven part two

Chapter eleven part three

Chapter eleven part four

Chapter eleven part five

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

°°°

Chapter One

...don’t you think so?

Yeah, answered the man still hidden behind the newspaper -The ‘Daily News’-.

And then, his wife kept on, they could really have a chance to make friends and -well- you know how important that is. She stopped again and raised her childish eyes towards him. Oh George, you haven’t paid any attention to what I’ve said!

What’s that?

You see? I’m talking to you about important things. Things that really matter and all you do is reading that newspaper of yours. So, okay, she said in a challenge, leaving aside the sweater she was knitting, what new houses are for sale today?

Hmm?-ah-none-I mean-I don’t know, it’s not the Ad’s section, is the sports’ one, he answered, taking his sight from the newspaper and at last looking at her.

And so? What’s new? she insisted.

Well not much, but did you know that tomorrow’s game is like an advanced final? he said to an empty living room, because she had left as soon as he had started to answer such a trashy question.

‘How can he be like that?’ There they were from here to there, moving from one place to another –‘like clothes in a washing machine,’ she imagined-. ‘It is about time to settle down and stop this nonsense. Why can’t he stay in one place, take a definite job like he had in Marlensport or -why not- in Apredia or Cadette? What a beautiful town, Cadette,’ she recalled. Or, well, any of those thousand-like places where they had lived or simply swept by in their twenty-one years of marriage.

And her memory traveled back to their high school days -eyes fixed in the yard just outside the kitchen- thinking how they had met...probably like anybody else, ‘but, oh! It was so wonderful...the basketball star and then, in the fall, the football star…everybody liked him, he also was a good pal.’ Yes, everyone liked him and he was a fairly decent student...and in the end, it was her he had chosen, just like that. Of all the girls in Lauresville he had made up his mind for her...

‘Lauresville, Lauresville, not a great town, not a bad place at all. Lauresville...’ It came on her mind with every drop of the starting rain outside. All of it was there before her eyes: her first home, that house always full of noises; her five brothers and two sisters; her mother, always busy, always working, never taking a time to rest, only at night and that if none of them were sick; her father…‘how could he manage things with a family that big?’ she wondered…

Yes an overwhelming home, always busy with friends, and even just the ten of them were a crowd. Fighting, screaming, their mother ordering them outside because her father had to rest...

‘Anyway, happy times,’ she thought, growing a small smile on her lips. ‘...we never cared much, never worried about anything, maybe a bit concerned about money or a prom dress -a janitor couldn’t make much money-, but John and then Joe and Danny...yes Danny too! In his own way, they all helped when the time came...a proud family.’ She nodded to herself, going back and forth in time, in those early adolescent years. It came to mind: Dave. Donna and Dave, they seemed like an unbreakable couple, the love of her life, but no, there it was George. ‘Would we have ever married if I had not been a cheerleader? Who knows? Maybe yes.’ She moved away from the window and, after biting her lip as a reminder, started to make coffee.

After a while, she came out of the kitchen and into the living room carrying a tray.

Do you want some coffee? Cookies?

Er, yes, he answered turning around -he had also been watching the rain-. You made these?

Twenty years of marriage and you can’t tell my cookies from the mart’s?

Sure I can, let me see, and after a quick glance at the kitchen table he pointed out, they’re bought.

Positive?

Yes, positive.

Isn’t it you took a chance out of two? she inquired with a grin of doubtfulness.

Oh, come on Darling. I am sure. Yours look so much fresh, so much more…

Are you trying to win me?

Oh, that I did, long time ago.

Oh you...it wasn’t easy, was it?

Well, to tell the truth. He stopped to have a straight look at her light brown eyes. No, I guess you were not so easy to win after all. She laughed and poured some coffee in his cup.

By the way, she added, those aren’t mine. I never make this kind of cookies, it’s too much work.

You don’t? He almost jumped out of his seat and actually spilled some coffee on the carpet. She laughed again and was so that she couldn’t manage to say or even do anything.

When she finally caught her breath again, she looked at his astonished face and began laughing again tenderly, slowly, waving her head as in disapproval to end up in a bright, loving smile.

No George, I don’t make that kind, but you were right anyhow-and-yes, thank you, I believe mine look much better.

Yes, it was your cooking and all that, that got me, he pointed after taking a sip.

You liar. If there was any cooking at all, was my mother’s. The few times you came home for dinner or just dropped by, you knew I had also been out at school the whole day. And my mother’s cooking wasn’t anything special anyway.

Not special, he interrupted, great!

My mother’s cooking?

No, you. And leaned forward to kiss her, supporting himself on the small table between them -a broken, yet repaired, vase on the corner as a witness-.

Nice times, weren’t they? she asked as he sat next to her.

They are still nice, no? But she was flying again in that broad space of her mind.

...Donna?

Yes they are, but somehow this past four years -maybe five- have been so much, and hesitated a moment before she could find the adequate word, so hard on me, so disconcerting on the children. They’re not children anymore, you know? They haven’t had a chance to meet anybody, to make true friends, you know, to live a normal life! she concluded in disappointment.

That’s not necessarily true. We did marry one.

And left her too! she replied.

Yes, maybe -I guess- but come on, it hasn’t been that bad, he objected.

I didn’t say bad. I said hard, disconcerting, not right I think. How do you expect them to be alright if they have this life, like pilgrims? George Merrick and Family: The twentieth Century Wanderers. Is that what we are? What sort of trip, of adventure is this we’re living now? Where is the end to all of this? she cried.

The end, why, here and now, he answered in a slow voice trying to sound real.

Here and now… she started in disbelief.

Yeah, I mean it. This is the end of the road, or any other place you prefer. I’m really willing to do it. I mean it, he repeated.

She kept silent, letting him embrace her as if sealing a peace treaty, hoping that this time he would really mean it. How many times had she heard that?

You know, he said, when he considered safe to talk, I have given it a thought, not just now but for the past six or seven weeks, maybe more. It actually started the moment we left Santo Tomas, he turned to look at her and continued, we had a sort of change in our lives: Donna getting married, Joey growing into that headache age and Kathy changing too, and this guardian angel or so. There were some changes and, after all that, like if nothing had happened, we just went on with this -pilgrimage you called it?- and oh, maybe I’m just mistaken, and it didn’t really happened anything to us, not anything not meant to happen, but anyway, what it is, is that something came about me. You see? No I guess not, it’s not been clear for me, myself. He looked at her and retook his monologue.

It’s just that I had never felt this sort of being lonesome, not belonging. Now that Donna is on her own, I miss her, like if had lost a part of myself. And -well- I’m worried, maybe she’ll feel the same at times. We only lost her but she lost all of us. I don’t know, maybe it’s different for her, like it’s been for me altogether. He paused, his eyes going over the corners of the room, the yellowish drapes and the unmistakable dust on the lamps, awaiting for the words to come back.

Like if I had changed now. In a way, I thought that moving on from town to town meeting people, showed you more of the world you live on. We lived in such a small place, where nothing changed. I always wanted to see other places. I thought that was a better life. Honest I did, he excused himself, but maybe that’s not the thing. Maybe to settle down, live with your family, your friends...maybe I’ve been selfish doing my own life, not yours. But now I’m losing my family, just like he said.

Who said? his wife uttered, lacking any expression in her voice.

That man, Marchi.

Marchi, she repeated in a discouraged tone.

But wait Donna, wait, he continued, raising himself onto his feet and pointing through the window at the twilight outside. He was probably right on that, you know? That everybody goes on their happiness as they understand it, but that doesn’t mean that it will be good for others. It makes sense. He nodded and turned towards her.

I don’t want to talk about it, she said, adding, can we stay here in Allen for the rest of our lives? Can we? That is what I want to know, because- But he did not let her finish.

Yes we can and will, if that’s what you feel like doing, he stated softly again, sounding somehow more real.

There, sitting right next to her, they both looked silently out of the window and beyond, watching the dim light and the thin rain, thinking separate things and living the birth not of a new night, but of a new day.

°°°

Chapter Two

Hello mom, said a voice immediately after a squeaking door. Mom? Where are you?

In the kitchen, washing dishes, answered an older voice a few steps away.

Ah, hi mom. Hey, you had burgers for supper! Is there anything left? I’m hungry.

And apple pie for dessert. Where have you been? It’s late. You know very well that I want you all here when your father comes, said Mrs. Merrick, leaving one hand in the sink, while the other carefully drew aside the hair covering her eyes.

It isn’t dark yet.

That’s not the point Katherine! It’s late and you know it! Where have you been? The question again, and Katherine knew her mother was angry, otherwise she would have addressed her as Kathy. And of course she looked quite upset, no doubt about that. And don’t tell me you were at school, she added, ‘cause Joey also came late. He stayed playing with other kids and the time ‘kind of passed him by’, her voice with a bit of sarcasm, but he says you weren’t there, so?

‘What’s wrong today?’ Katherine thought. She had never lied to her parents. In fact she never lied. She never felt the need to lie. It was as if the truth had always had a familiar partner-like flow with her conscience. Then, why this remark? Why? She stared at her mother a brief time that aged to minutes for Mrs. Merrick.

So? she asked again, rapidly growing impatient.

I was at the park. The one next to St. Peter’s, answered the girl in a calm steady voice.

At the park. Almost as an echo. And what, may I know, where you doing at the park all this time? She sank her hands again in the submerged pile of dishes and after taking a plate out, she pointed in a softer tone, almost in complicity, oh! You were out with Mark. He didn’t come around today.

No I was not with him, Katherine said firmly, as she grabbed a chair and sat by the kitchen table, a little away from her mother’s direct view. You know I don’t like him.

Then you were with John Larson again, she said wiping her hands with a cloth and standing arms-crossed before Katherine. Were you?

No I was not. Annoyance reflected also on her face and body language. Mom, I have not seen him for a week. A little more, ten days maybe, and regaining a firm posture, but don’t get any ideas about it mom. I don’t like Mark.

Well in any case I’m glad this other thing’s over, said Mrs. Merrick, comforted by the idea of having her child back on the right trail. That’s something at least. But, tell me, were you then alone? What did you do all this time?

Katherine thought about telling her mother that she had never meant John was out