Bewitched...and Bewildered ...Part 2 ...Desperate Measures

How soft,
How sad my voice, ever calling,
Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling...
—James Joyce

Throughout the week, Sylvia managed to elude me once again. By Friday, Frizzy took pity on me and dropped a not-too subtle hint.

“Gee, I wish I had an apartment near the lake like Sylvia,” she said dreamily.

“Sylvia lives near the lake?” I asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Oh yes, she lives near the boardwalk and goes for walks there every evening after work.”

I filed that away for future reference.

Frizzy still had that same far away look in her eyes and said dreamily, “I’m sure Sylvia will be taking lots of walks next week—Nicholas is going on a book tour and won’t be back until Sunday.”

I could have kissed her cute little face. This was my chance to woo Sylvia, if ever there was going to be one.

Monday turned out to be Sylvia’s day off, and although I walked the boardwalk until it was dark, she never appeared. Obviously, she followed a different routine on non-work days.

I walked home feeling disconsolate, but as I passed The Palms Hotel, I happened to see Nicholas Randall escorting a beautiful woman inside. I followed them from a discreet distance and watched while they entered the downstairs bar.

They sat in a secluded back corner table and I watched while Nicholas began embracing and kissing the woman. I snapped a few pics with my I-phone.

As I walked home pondering the situation, it occurred to me Nicholas was supposed to be in New York. I wondered if he planned to go on the book tour at all, and decided to find out by spending a few evenings at the bar.

I know it’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a cheap detective, but I was curious and determined to find out if Nicholas’ philandering was the exception or the rule. It turned out Nicholas was there every night with a different girl, and I had the date-stamped pics to prove it.

I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I printed the pics as 8×10 glossies, intending to confront Sylvia with indisputable evidence.

I carried the glossies with me in a valise I used for sketching and jotting the occasional poem.

But another week passed with Sylvia as elusive as the Abominable Snowman. Finally, I got my opportunity one Tuesday evening after work. I spotted Sylvia walking on the boardwalk while chatting on her cell phone—probably making plans with Nicholas, I mused bitterly.

It was getting dark and the skies looked threatening, but Sylvia kept walking further and further, and I had no alternative but to follow her like a puppy.

Then, it began to pour. Sylvia came prepared with an umbrella, but I trailed behind her all the way back to her apartment, until I was thoroughly soaked to the skin.

She saw me from inside her lobby looking like the drowned rat I felt I was, clinging tightly to the slim document valise containing the glossies.

It was weird. At first there was a look of triumph on her face, but it quickly changed when she saw me stop and sneeze as a gust of rain wrapped its icy arms about me.

“Jay—Jay Porter,” she called out from the doorway, “Come in out of the rain.”

I lost no time hurrying to scale the stone steps leading to her apartment foyer, but just as my foot touched the top stair I slid and went down on my ankle.

I felt a fool, especially when she had to come out in the rain and help me hobble to the shelter of the lobby.

“Are you all right?” she asked, alarmed by my injury.

“I don’t think I can put weight on this ankle,” I hissed. The pain was excruciating.

“I was going to let you sit in the lobby until the storm passed, but you better come up to my apartment and we’ll have to ice your ankle.”

Oh great—just what I need—more cold.

“Th-thank you, Sylvia,” I managed to say through chattering teeth.

I must have been bewitched because I was making a complete fool of myself.

To be continued…

© 2025, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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