Miriam Part Five

"All right, maybe for a dance or two", she dropped her eyes with a sigh. "I really am getting tired, Nick."

"That's my girl", Nick said triumphantly. "Come on, let's go. See ya, Josh ol' man!" Nick was tugging on her hand now, pulling her from the room. Tugging back and looking over her shoulder, Miriam called to Josh.
"You'll be here for a while, will you?"

"Can't say for certain", Josh answered quietly. "A little while, at least." But then she was out in the hall, pulled by a Nick who was almost running. The piano music followed them, a little sadder now.

Nick pulled her back to the main hallway and was dragging her toward the garden. They reached the hallway to the right when she remembered why she'd come here. Stopping dead, she pulled her hand clear of Nick's grip. He turned with an angry look.

"What is it, baby?"

"I need to go to the powder room. That's why I came in here, and I think it's down this hall."

"Yeah, it's down here. C'mon, I'll show you."

"Nick, I think I can find a bathroom by myself", Miriam bridled. "You go along ahead, I'll be along in a few minutes."

Nick looked at her like a rancher might look at a mustang. He glanced quickly back up the hall toward where the faint piano music could still be heard, then at her again. "You sure?"

"Yes, Nick, I'm sure. I'll only be a minute."

"All right, then", he conceded, though it was clear he wasn't pleased.

"I'll get you a drink and then we can get the good times rollin', right?" He pulled her to himself and gave her a rough kiss.

"Right, Nick", she said, pulling free and starting down the hallway to the restroom.

"Whiskey sour, right?" Nick called as he headed toward the party.

"Right!"

"I'll make it a double! And if you're not along in five minutes, I'll be back with the bloodhounds!"

"I'm sure you will, Nick", Miriam sighed as she opened the powder room door.

When she emerged a few minutes later, she was half surprised not to see Nick waiting for her at the main hallway. It was the sort of thing he'd do, but for whatever reason he wasn't there. She walked back to the hallway, still tugging at her hem and feeling dismal about going back to that blasted party. She stopped for a minute and listened. She could still hear the piano notes coming from the hallway to the left. At the end of the main hallway, where it opened onto the garden, she could hear the drums and guitars beginning to warm up. Still no sign of Nick. She started walking toward the party, then stopped and turned. She looked back up the hallway toward the piano music, then back down toward the party.

The End.

"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part Four

The music again filled the room, but now it was interrupted by another sound – feet in the hallway outside, accompanied by a loud male voice. Josh kept playing. "Miriam! Are you down here?" The voice was at the door now, and Miriam turned to it with a forced smile. "Oh, there you are, baby! We were wondering where you were – oh, sorry, I didn't know you had company."
"Um – hello, Nick", Miriam said, suddenly aware that she was still tugging on her hemline. In his party clothes Nick looked like he'd just stepped out of a GQ advertisement – but then he always looked like he'd just stepped out of a GQ advertisement, right down to the three-day stubble. He was grinning and holding a beer bottle, just as he'd been when she slipped away. Feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed, she looked back and forth between Nick's grinning face and Josh, who kept playing gently.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to barge in", Nick continued, walking up to her and slipping his arm around her waist. "It's just that – oh, hello there, Josh."

"Hello, Nick", Josh gave Nick a brief glance and continued playing.
"Long time, no see! I brought Miriam to the party", he pulled her close to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"Playing the piano", Josh answered with the slightest of smiles, not bothering to turn his head.

"Well – ah, right. Anyway, baby, the band's back and about to start another set. I thought you might want to get out on the floor with some of those signature moves of yours. Whaddya say?"

"Um, I dunno, Nick", Miriam hedged. Difficult as it was to stay here with Josh, feeling all the turmoil his presence caused in her, the prospect of leaving filled her with bleak despair. She felt she could not face the pounding rock music, the empty laughter, smoke and flickering lights from the mirrored balls. "I've got a bit of a headache coming on."

"Oh, come on, baby, don't be a spoilsport", Nick urged, tightening his arm around her waist and grabbing her elbow with that grip of his that was just a little too firm for comfort. "I know how much you love to rock and roll, and the band's well warmed up now. I was looking forward to the chance to – y'know, get down a little." He gave a little dance wiggle, his tight grip on her forcing her to do the same.

"I don't know, Nick", Miriam protested weakly, trying to wrench her elbow free from his grip. "I was hoping to lie down for a while."

"Baby, baby", Nick chided with one of his perfect grins, "I didn't bring you to this party to have you lie down in a room by yourself. I brought you to show you off, and have a little fun! That's why I asked you to wear that dress I got you. Great dress, eh, Josh?"

"We were just talking about the dress. It's beautiful", Josh said, not turning, continuing his beautiful playing in a more subdued key.

"See, baby! Even ol' Josh here doesn't think you should be hiding in a corner! So c'mon!" Nick slipped his arm from her waist but grasped her hand in an iron grip. "I'm not leaving without you." He was looking into her eyes now. His lips were smiling but his eyes were cold and determined, almost reptilian. She knew that look – Nick used it when he intended to get his way, and he always did. Resistance flared within her, but old habit overruled it. Her heart collapsed – she was too tired to fight right now.



"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part Three

"Yes – er, that is, you play beautifully, as you always have", Miriam said, dropping her eyes from his and looking nervously around the room. They were alone, weren't they? She felt like she should say something else, but didn't know what. Josh's fingers swept over the keys with effortless skill, and the haunting melody filled the room.

"That – what you're playing – it sounds familiar", Miriam ventured. "Have I heard it before?"

"I doubt it", Josh replied, then corrected himself, "but then, maybe you've heard bits of it. I just made it up tonight, but it contains themes I've used before."

"Yes, I can see that", she replied. "It's very beautiful."

"Thank you", Josh nodded slightly and played for a bit more. "So – how have you been?"

Miriam dropped her head and smiled. She should have expected that – it was the perpetual "Josh question". Almost every meeting, phone call, letter, or even e-mail would include that little question; so casual yet so probing. How had she been. How had she been? Let's see, Josh – how long has it been? Years now? A lot of water under the bridge, a lot of distance between her and – oh, just about everyone. Lots of acquaintances, lots of cards in the box on her dresser, lots of memories that blurred together, lots of faces but no names to go with them, lots of meetings but few friends, lots of parties...

"Fine, Josh, I've been fine", she answered. "It's – I'm a little tired these days, but otherwise I'm doing well. And – and you?"

"You're looking good", he volunteered, his hands still sweeping across the keyboard. "Nice dress."

"Thanks. Nick got it for me, and since he brought me here, I thought I'd – you know, wear it", she answered. It was a nice dress, but in Josh's presence she was suddenly conscious of how short it was, and how low the neckline was cut. It certainly complimented her dancer's legs and the trim figure she worked so hard to maintain, and she could always tell that male eyes were watching her every move when she wore it. It certainly was sexy. Sometimes men would come and – talk to her. And keep looking at her. It was attention, but – they weren't the nicest men.

"You've always looked good in red", Josh continued.

Looked good in red. Yes, she did – everyone told her so. But then, she also looked good in white. Even more people told her that, especially when she wore the white dress that Josh had gotten her years ago. It wasn't at all like this red party dress – it was more a cool weather dress, with long lacy sleeves, a tea-length skirt, and a beautiful collar that framed her long neck. She'd joked with Josh about his taste running toward Victorian wedding dresses, but there was no denying that it made her look and feel more feminine and beautiful than anything else she had. When she wore that dress gentlemen would open doors for her with a little bow, and women would come up to tell her how beautiful she was, while Josh just looked on and smiled. Goodness, she hadn't worn that dress in years. Just last month she'd spotted it in the cleaner's bag at the back of her closet and had taken it out. Why was she still keeping it? She pondered donating it to St. Vincent, but she just – couldn't. She'd hung it back on the bar.

"Thank you", Miriam answered, tugging at her hem just a little. "I – thank you." The silence fell between them again, full of the melody and so much more. "How have you been?"

"I've been well", Josh said lightly. "Here and there, plenty to keep me busy, of course. You remember how it was."

"You always managed to make time for me", Miriam said, startling herself. Why had she said that?

Josh looked back at her with one of his small smiles. "It's easy to make time for the truly important things."

"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part Two

She came to the doors and cautiously peered around the corner. Seated at a beautiful concert grand was a young man with his back to the door, playing with grace and passion. She could only see the back of his head, but the cut of his wavy brown hair and his posture were familiar enough – could it be? Her breath caught in her throat and her hand flew to her mouth, but her heart was racing. What if it was? Could she – after all this – ? Part of her wanted to turn away and return to the party, pretending that she'd never followed the music down the hall. But a stronger part wanted to know, to at least see if it was him, and if it was, maybe –

She walked quietly into the room, trying not to distract him. If she was quiet enough, maybe she could catch a glimpse without his noticing her, and then leave without having been seen. She could see more of the pianist's profile now. He was playing from memory, his eyes closed, swaying as he played, entranced with the music. She was almost alongside him now, and could see most of his face. He was still caught up in his music, oblivious to all around him. Her heart raced faster – it was him.

Images raced through her mind, images from a life she'd almost forgotten, a life she'd tried to forget. His deep brown eyes smiling into hers as they walked along the beach. His slight wisp of a smile, with the ever present edge of sadness. The brief touch of his hand – all the contact he'd ever ventured, yet, somehow, all the contact he'd ever needed. No, no – her heart turned away from the images, and she made a slight turn back toward the door.

"Hello, Miriam", he said without opening his eyes.

"Oh!" she caught her breath at the sound of his voice – that familiar, comforting, yet slightly disturbing voice. "He – hello, Josh. I – heard the piano – that is, I was just wandering by, and the music – I – I didn't know you were here. That is, I didn't see you at the party."

"I wasn't invited to the party", Josh replied, opening his eyes and looking at her as he continued to play. "But I'm an old friend of the family, and I have a standing invitation. I'm staying in the guest house, and happened to be over and decided to try tickling the ivories a bit."

Miriam heard him speaking, but was only half attending. She'd forgotten how penetrating his eyes could be. Calm and deep, yet when he looked at you, you could feel like you were the only one in the world. Yet at the same time they could discomfit you, make you feel like he was able to see thing you'd rather remained hidden. Josh was the only man she knew who could comfort and unnerve you with the same glance.



"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part One

Miriam was walking down the beautifully paneled hall when she first heard the music. At first she thought it might have come from the garden, but no – it was too delicate, too ethereal to have come from the hammering guitars of the rock band playing for the party. There it was again! Just a few bars, fading almost as quickly as they'd been heard, but clearly from a piano or keyboard – and also dimly familiar.

Had it been merely a piano tune, she would have ignored it and continued on her way. Perhaps it was a guest who wandered away from the party, or a family member enjoying a little quiet. But the haunting familiarity caught her attention. Where did she know those notes from? They stirred yearnings within her, pleasant feelings she hadn't known for quite a while – yet at the same time aroused disturbing images of things long forgotten. What was that music?

Hesitant and torn, she stopped at the intersection of two hallways and clutched her party purse. She'd been intending to follow this hallway to the right, but the music seemed to coming from a hallway further up that went left. There it was again! Her curiosity prodded her to follow the notes up to where the hallway turned left.

Her search was rewarded. From the head of the hallway she could hear the music dimly but steadily. The long hall was lined with doors, all closed except for one double door standing ajar toward the far end. It seemed that the music was coming from there.

She walked tentatively down the hall toward the music, searching her heart as she went. Why did the music seem familiar? Perhaps she recognized the melody, which seemed somewhere between classical and slow ragtime, but what seemed most familiar was the style. In contrast to the cacophony at the party, this was gentle and alluring. The strains seemed to float along the hallway, now soft and delicate, now swelling in a lively allegretto. The tenor of the music was sad and somber, not quite a lament, but there was an underlying theme of joy and hope that kept bubbling through. Whoever was playing knew much more than how to play notes off a sheet – he knew how to bring a piece of music to life, to make it express the artist's heart and soul. She hadn't met many who could do that – in fact, the only one she could remember was –

"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories