Silent Keys: Chapter Two

Don Wilkins was the kind of man who needed to control everything, even the death of his wife, Livi. It didn't quite work out the way he had so carefully planned.

He checked the dead bolts on the front door and the patio slider. Both entrances were now unlocked. Any curious soul could enter the house easily to investigate. Then he opened the window in the kitchen, struggling to lift it just a couple of inches. At first, he considered oiling it, but realized maintenance wasn't the problem. He no longer had the strength. Don had made it a point throughout his life to excel in all challenges, so it maddened him whenever he failed to accomplish a task as simple as opening a window.

There were still a few things to do on his checklist.  Even though the sun had barely set over the mountains, the house fell into an eerie gloom. Lights were beginning to blink on in the neighbors' houses and children were being called in for the evening. With dinners finished, dishes loaded in the dishwasher, he could see the garish glow of televisions turning to the evening news. The world would continue marching by its incessant beat. Catastrophes happened elsewhere but not in this placid township. The only ruckus was the kid down the street roaring back and forth on his dirt bike.

He wondered how long it would take the neighbors to notice something was not quite right at the Wilkins'. There was no way he could predict that. Despite the houses sitting within feet of each other, people minded their own business to the point of total isolation. It would take the flashing lights of a police car before anyone would stick their noses out the door. He could almost see his neighbors gathered in small groups, buzzing with curiosity.

Who lives there? Didn't know druggies lived in this area. Did you hear screaming? I heard a cop say 'guns.'

Shaking his head, he sighed deeply with fatigue. Was the tea finally working or was it the weight of everything always landing upon his shoulders. He didn't want to think anymore about what would happen. He had grown weary of it all.  His mind could no longer keep track of all the details.

Livi once teased him about being a human calculator. "No wonder you're such a good accountant, Donnie," she whispered in his ear one night on her way to bed. For the umpteenth night in a row, he hammered at the pile of tax returns coming due on April 15th. His clients depended on him to get these done. That was all he could think of at that time of year. She had been singing as usual, but he couldn't recall hearing the music.

Another major flaw, he reckoned, as her soft fingers massaged his shoulders, kneading the knots that burned in his neck. Her lips grazed his hair one more time before she tiptoed down the hall.

A normal man would've ditched the taxes and followed her to the bedroom, he thought as he breathed in the cool air coming through the window. He wasn't a normal man he finally had to admit. Normal was beneath him.

Turning off the reading lamp that illumined Livi's ashen face, he sat on the edge of the couch. Livi was so thin, there was plenty of room for him. Briefly, he considered reclining next to her, embracing her as they both faded into oblivion. Maybe later. He had things yet to do, but he couldn't resist a moment to gaze at the beauty that had brightened his life for over six decades.

Her eyes were opened half way. Her mouth twitched and the lips stretched tightly in what appeared to be an angry grimace. Was she dreaming? Was she still able to think or had the tea erased that capacity? If there were an afterlife, would her dreams lead seamlessly into that spiritual existence? Or was she engulfed in a mishmash of fragmented images and sounds that would disappear into nothingness the moment she passed? Imagining what she must be going through at the moment filled him with dread of what was to come when his own dose of tea kicked in.

Indeed, he could barely keep his thoughts straight now. Even before he drank the drugged tea, a fog seeped into his brain, shattering his ability to remember the items on his to-do list. Forget about pondering death. There was no energy or desire for such philosophical luxuries. Once he had completed his tasks, he could rest from mental work forever. He was done.

He looked forward to that moment when there would only be mysteries.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Whatever was in the plastic bag lying at his feet, it was squirming. Other bags of fresh vegetables clustered around the tiny Chinese man who waited next to Don for the cable car. Looking up and away from the unfortunate beast, Don scanned the gritty streets bordering Chinatown near the Powell Street trolley stop.

He had always wanted to visit San Francisco and to ride one of the famous cable cars. This break between semesters at San Jose State allowed him a day for an adventure in the big city before heading home for Thanksgiving break. Then it would be back to school, working toward his engineering degree.

His friend driving home to Marin County dropped him off near Chinatown to begin his sightseeing tour.

"This is the center of the universe, pal. From Chinatown, you can go in any direction and see everything. The streetcars come to this corner. All you have to do is climb on."

His friend waved and sped away to complete his own journey. Don just stood there, lost as if dropped on an alien planet. Despite it being sea level, he wondered if the oxygen was less dense here because he found it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

Several people of various races gathered at the stop. Some looked like tourists; the cameras around their necks were a dead give-away. Others, like the grocery shopper next to him, obviously lived nearby. The man's burdens would soon prove too heavy to carry up whatever hill he lived, but Don wondered how he would keep track of all his bundles on an open cable car.

The whole town left Don in a state of awe. So many people and cultures all mashed together in a small space. Don began to feel the onset of claustrophobia after a lifetime in the Central Valley's wide agricultural spaces.

Not only were there steep hills in San Francisco, but the shortest buildings reached upward to five stories. He couldn't imagine living in such tight quarters. Sharing the same air with all these people made his throat constrict as if the fog itself held toxins.

Suddenly, the mob quickened with anticipation.

Clang-clang!

The trolley was coming and everyone shifted into position to jump aboard. Don stood back from the pack, bewildered at how to proceed. Chaos reigned as people piled onto the car, claiming seats as soon as the previous passenger vacated them. Others were forced to hang onto straps or bars as the bell clanged and the trolley rolled away, leaving Don standing there with his mouth agape.

He would have to wait for the next car and there were already more people gathering around for that one. Maybe he should explore Chinatown before attempting another cable car, but seeing the little Chinese man with his very fresh groceries filled him with trepidation. What other cultural oddities awaited him there? Were the horror stories true that he would be kidnapped and sold into slavery?

As the frigid morning air seeped through his sweater, he felt a strong urge to go back to Stockton. Forget this whole misguided adventure. That would be giving up, though. And Donald Kelso Wilkins never gave up.

Then he saw her.

A drape of blond hair shielded her from direct contact with the milling throng. The beret and the way she tied a colorful scarf around her neck gave her an artistic flare. Men's jeans rolled up to her calf, a form-fitting sweater, and sandals completed the outfit. She looked like one of those bohemian girls he had seen at school, except oddly familiar.

A breeze off the Bay blew the scarf casually over her shoulder, but she didn't bother to straighten it. Instead, she stood, tapping her toe to some tune swirling around in her head, her eyes gazing off into another world. The fog wafted around her, adding to the ethereal aspect of her presence.

Then Don recognized her and had to get her attention somehow. He sidled up next to her.

"Ahem." He coughed to break her trance. It failed. He hovered closer to her, but she merely edged away in a practiced manner learned from dealing with crowds.

Okay, a more manly approach is needed.

He bumped against her, sending the sheaf of papers she cradled in her arms skidding across the sidewalk. Sheet music fanned out from between the covers, the wind teasing at the pages.

Her oblivion snapped back to reality as he gathered the music before it blew away. When he arose, they collided and the sheaf fell again, this time falling with a splat upon the pavement. They nearly knocked heads reaching down to rescue it. At last, she peered up at him, exasperation flaring in her eyes.

"And your name is?" The flash of anger in her eyes surprised him.

Then she pulled back, looking him up and down, her expression softening as she took him all in. First, she appeared to recognize him, then faltered, frowning in confusion.

"Livi, don't you remember me? I'm the guy you fell madly in love with in high school. But here I am, stumbling back into your life as only I can do."

She smiled primly, but those eyes. Oh, mercy!

"Donnie. How in the heck are you?"

She managed to get that much out just as another streetcar careened around the corner, its bell clanging out a warning to anyone stupid enough to be in its way. Locals were quite aware of the calamities caused when cable cars met a crowd of tourists. That was when romance quickly turned to betrayal in the victim's face.

"Were you waiting to get on the cable car?"

"Yes, I was. I'm going to the Conservatory on Sacramento." She glanced at her wrist and shook her head. "I missed the car before this and now I'll be late for class. They get really angry if you're late, even a little bit."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping…." He sighed loudly enough to make her smile break into a grin. "I was just thinking it would be nice to have a cup of coffee with you, catch up on things. Looks like you got that scholarship after all."

"Yeah, surprise, surprise! It was a squeaker there for a while. I didn't hear anything until just before graduation when Mrs. Atwood, our glee teacher … remember her?"

He shook his head. "Nah, oh wait. Wasn't she that weird old lady who wore the wild colored shoes and stood in the middle of the hall watching everybody pass by?"

Livi laughed now, a hearty open guffaw that welled from deep within her body. "Yeah, that's her. Everybody thought she was crazy, or maybe just senile. Why they kept her on, I don't know." Livi squelched her remarks by patting her hand to her mouth. "Anyway, she finally came up to me with the papers that said I got the scholarship and the application forms for the Conservatory. She'd been sitting on them for a month or so and it was almost too late to apply to the school. For Pete's sake! I even wondered if she was trying to sabotage me."

A tiny line indented the space between her eyebrows as she remembered.  "Anyway, Mr. Watson, the drama teacher who directed me in The Music Man, he rescued me from losing out. He knew the owner of the school and pleaded my case for me. He was fabulous!"

Livi almost lost out on her biggest dream because of a forgetful teacher. Don marveled at her ability to turn around her anger and talk about something positive instead of dwelling on the negative.  It was one of the things he adored about her.

"That car's about to leave. Can we do coffee sometime?"

Again, she laughed, tossing her head in a manner she must have learned here in San Francisco. In just a few months, her inner spirit had freed itself from the confines of small town proprieties. She never displayed such emotional freedom back home. It took him aback for a moment, but he had to admit he kind of liked it too.

"You know what? I'm supposed to be rehearsing my part in Brigadoon, but I think I'll skip out today. Michael's going to be really upset with me, and I don't blame him. It's a cardinal sin to play hooky on a rehearsal, but seeing you is more important right now. So … how about that coffee? In fact, how about lunch?"

It was as if she could read his mind. Skip class? She would never do that back home. Especially a music class. She had changed. Her personality was almost unrecognizable and he wondered what her mother would say if she saw her little girl now, dressed like a woman of loose morals and radical politics. Whoa!

That grin widened, although he couldn't figure out how. She laced her arm around his and swiveled him toward Chinatown. "Have you ever been to Chinatown?"

He shrugged, trying not to show his rising anxiety as well as his total lack of worldly experience. Wasn't he supposed to be showing her the town?

"Well, neither have I. How 'bout we explore it together? There's got to be some little restaurant in there where we can grab lunch and talk. I'm hungry. Are you?"

That was the best idea anybody had had yet. "I sure am."

For the next hour, they negotiated the narrow streets. Maybe they only seemed narrower as tourists and locals crushed together among the mysterious shops and strange doorways leading downward into what Don was certain were opium dens and brothels. Weird sounds and signage confounded him. He simply didn't know what he would do if confronted with a gang of thugs.

Livi guided him forward, unfazed by it all. As far as he knew, she probably mingled with the denizens of Chinatown on a regular basis. Why was she standing at that particular trolley stop in the first place? Did she live in this maze of foreign intrigue, or like him, was she a tourist out for adventure between classes? He just couldn't get the stories that he had heard for so long out of his head - that San Francisco was the hedonistic whore on the hill and Chinatown was its heart. Or was that The Battery District? The stories about Shanghai Kelly gave him nightmares even as a teenager. He was too confused right then to do more than straighten up his shoulders and fake it.

Just as Don's brain was about to seize up, she pointed to a sign with an arrow indicating a restaurant up a flight of stairs. Once inside, a waiter led them to a table by a window trimmed with lacy sheer curtains. Don could watch the mayhem from the safety of a table set with linen tablecloths and silver flatware. He had brought about twenty bucks with him. This place had to be expensive.

To his joy, however, the prices on the menu were cheap. His pocketful of ones and change would easily cover lunch for the two of them plus tip. Gratefully, a few of the choices were familiar, too. Pretty close to what he had eaten at the Chinese joint back in Stockton. Sweet and sour. Chop suey. Easy-peasy! For the first time in his life, he felt like he could be a big shot…maybe.

As the waiter placed the food before them on glistening plates, Don had to revise his attitudes about the Chinese. The tiny restaurant was elegant and quiet despite its inexpensive prices. The staff went about their tasks in a gracious manner that soothed any fears Don had about being kidnapped or attacked by thugs. In fact, he couldn't really say he had seen anyone during their foray through the streets of Chinatown that even vaguely resembled the terrifying images he had been fed. All about them appeared to be shopkeepers and stock boys going about their business of making a living. Residents shuffled between the stores buying supplies, much as the old man he had seen at the cable car stop. This was a neighborhood of regular folks just like back in Stockton.

Soon, Don and Livi were talking a stream of memories. She elaborated on her ambitions to move up from Broadway musicals to opera, stretching her vocal range as well as her knowledge of the literature. He complained that his dad couldn't afford MIT or CalTech, but Don hoped by the time he finished his general ed requirements at San Jose, he could nail a scholarship and attain his dream of a Stanford degree. What a coup that would be to all the farm boys back home.

When they finally descended the stairs, he knew with certainty his future would include Olivia Smith in it. He hoped she felt as good as he did about that prospect.

Then he remembered he needed to know her phone number. Can't keep this beautiful relationship going without that.

"Oh, am I going to be your girl again?" There was that little crease in her brow like she had when he dropped her music all over the place.

"Um, I didn't mean to slip a ring around your finger or anything. I know you got your friends here and all, but gee, it would be great if you and I could … well, I like you, Livi. I'd like you to be my friend. That's all."

Her head tipped back as she smiled again, warm and sunny. "That would be nice, Donnie. I would like that." She wrote her name and phone number on a page of a notebook she fished from her purse and ripped it off, handing it to him. "Here you go. Now you do the same." She spun the notebook around and offered her pen.

He scribbled his number on the page and capped the pen. "There. We're friends now. I'll call you after break when I get back to school and we can get together again … or something."

"Or something," she giggled. "I'll look forward to that. So, let's get back to the trolley stop. I've got to repent for my sins to Saint Michael and you need to get back to Stockton."

"Yes I do," he sighed. "Can I accompany you to your destination?"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean … to make sure you get back safely. I'm much more of a gentleman now. Didn't you notice?"

"I noticed you were scared stiff all the way through Chinatown," she snorted. "Your arm felt like it was made of cement."

He ducked his head with embarrassment. "Got me right where it hurts, girl." He sniffed and looked around at the buildings hovering over him. "I've never been more overwhelmed by a place in my life."

"Just how many places have you been in your life, Donnie?"

Oh man, she was really digging into him. Another change, only this one slammed his fragile male ego.

She bumped his arm to let him know she was only teasing him. "I'd appreciate an escort at this time of night, but the Conservatory is out of your way. We can ride the trolley together for a while, but when we get to Market Street, we'll have to part company."

That finality hit him hard. It was like a firm good-bye. "Um, well, all right then. To Market Street and beyond. But …."

"But we'll see each other again soon." She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek with a light peck.

Relieved, he held out his arm to her. "Okay, let's go catch a streetcar. I sure hope you know the way, 'cause I don't know where the hell we are."

They rode without a word on the jerking trolley until it stopped on the turntable at Market Street. Everyone jumped off and helped push the car around so it headed back on the route it had just travelled. Then the passengers scattered in all directions.

Don and Livi stood for several moments on the turntable, watching the others fade into the growing twilight. Both were reluctant to end this day. The wind had picked up with a chill that penetrated their thin sweaters. San Francisco was always cold, but once the sun went down, the temperature dropped as fog shrouded the city like the mists of Brigadoon.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Be hearing from you soon then." She cast him a look of doubt and pivoted on her heel. Without looking back, she disappeared around the corner and out of his life again. He would surprise her, though. He would definitely call her soon. His life depended on it.

Riding the train back to San Jose, all he could think about was Livi. He would marry that girl as soon as he graduated. Would they be able to wait that long? Four years at least. Then he could move them both out of Stockton and make wads of money. She could settle into the leisurely and affluent life of an engineer's wife.

When he arrived at his parents' house, they greeted him with hugs and kisses that far exceeded his expectations. Something was wrong. His mother's eyes dampened as she pulled a hanky from her bosom to dab them dry. His father appeared to struggle between pride and fear.

Had something happened to Dad's business? Were his brothers and sister okay? Did his sister get pregnant? What? Don's heart pounded.

Then his mother turned to the hallway table and scooped up a letter. It was from the Draft Board. They had already opened it. As he unfolded the stiff official stationery, Don didn't need to read it except for the report date within the text.

The Korean War was in full swing. All the guys at school were talking about it and their chances for being called up for active duty.

"Hey, they're not going to draft us. We're in college. That's automatic deferment," one of his buddies crowed when his group of friends were moaning about the possibilities. His remark cheered them all at the time and life went on.

Despite his attendance at college, though, all of Don's carefully laid and paid for plans for the future had been placed on hold. He had just been invited to be a part of something far greater than himself.

~~~~~

Silent Keys will be posted in chapter installments every Tuesday and Saturday, available for paid subscribers only. I thank you all for your support of Ring Around the Basin. Please consider becoming a paid subscriber, or make a donation, which could be based on what you would pay for a novel at a bookstore anyway: $5, $10, $15. As a paid subscriber, you also will be able to read all the poems, essays, and stories on this site.