The rest of the ride into Santa Fe was uneventful and fairly quiet. Virgil tried to make a joke or strike a conversation and Aiken shakily participated as much as he could. They pulled up in front of the bank, Virgil helped the passengers out of the coach and pointed them in the direction of potential lodgings and Aiken emptied the strongbox and handed it down to one of the nameless bank tellers. Virgil knew his name, but Aiken didn’t care as he handed the cash, gold, and silver down.
“Let’s get this to Martin’s and then I’ll buy you a whiskey at The Oriental.” Virgil had rid himself of the crutch by then but still walked with a slight limp, a limp he walked with for the rest of his life.
It was an offer that had been made every time they unloaded in Santa Fe. For the first time, Aiken gave in to the proposition. They unhitched the horses and stabled them in the barn, “Let’s see if Martin and Mary want to go.” Virgil detoured into the house.
He came out with his brother in law and little sister. “Aiken, how are you?” Martin asked.
All Aiken could do was nod. He felt so conflicted at that very moment, he wanted to say that he was doing fine and yet he didn’t know what fine felt like, he was afraid of what fine felt like. He was afraid of feeling anything because he knew that he wouldn’t feel anything when it was important. Aiken nodded again.
“Let’s go.” Virgil grabbed his sister around the waist and hurried her along in front of him.
They walked to The Oriental, three plus one. Aiken walking along, belonging and not wanting to belong. The lights in the saloon were burning brightly and the windows were just beginning to show the slightest sign of fog building along their edges as the day began to cool into night. It was warm and inviting against the cold night that was quickly descending upon Santa Fe. The four of them walked into the saloon and found a table that was empty. Along the bar, people milled and joked together, it was difficult for Virgil to make his way through to get a shot of whiskey for himself and partner. Every faro table was flanked by people waiting to see the next card flipped, not carrying what fortunes they lost or won.
Aiken sat outside all of that, he watched and he listened. He strained to separate the dissonance into its several parts and make sense of what was being said underneath it all. It usually came natural for him and yet he had to work at it, he found himself somehow getting lost in that chaos.
“Here.” Virgil put the shot glass down on the table and then sat down himself.
“Where’s mine?” Martin asked.
“Did your husband do something to his legs that make it difficult for him to do things for himself?” Virgil asked his sister.
Mary laughed and told Martin to get his own if he wanted one. The light shown through her soft, brown hair as she tilted her head back and laughed. Its long, straight strands fell upon her shoulders as she turned her head and smiled. Her blue eyes glittered as they met Aiken’s and for the first time it was he who had to quickly change his gaze. He shook his head and threw back the shot sitting in front of him. The burning in his throat helped clear his mind. He stood up from the table and worked his way through the crowded floor to the nearest faro table.
He put his mark down on the five card. He waited for the dealer to flip the cards and expected to lose. The dealer called for bets and then put his hand on the dealers box, waiting for the last bets to be placed before he exposed the first card. He pulled away the last card and the box revealed the five of hearts. Aiken knew that he was going to lose and wondered why he had placed the bet. Somethings never change he told himself. He pulled a nickel from his pocket and flipped it on the table as he took his mark off.
He turned around to go back, to go back to his room and forget the day. Virgil, Martin, and Mary were behind him, stopping him from leaving the table.
“Play another one!” Mary smiled at Aiken as she pushed passed him and placed a mark on the high card.
Virgil and Martin also placed their marks on the table. Mary looked at Aiken and waited for him to put his mark on the table. “Maybe he’s out of money, Martin, give him another nickel.” She joked and pulled him towards the table.
He shook his head, wanting to get away from the table and yet finding himself getting lost in the dissonance. He put a mark on the five card again.
“Nothing like trying something new, huh?” Virgil joked.
Mary hit her brother in the side of his gut as she pushed herself into her husband, laughing.
They watched as the dealer exposed the banker’s card, a six, and the player’s card, a jack. Mary jumped and laughed when the jack was revealed, “I always play the high card.” And she held her hand out waiting for her nickel from the dealer.
Martin, Virgil, and Aiken waited for the next turn of cards. On the next turn, the banker’s card was a queen and the player’s card was a two. “Damn,” Virgil and Mary exasperated together. The word itself carried so little weight that it was somewhat comical to hear the words fall from their lips. They then smiled at each other, laughed and paid the bank. Mary left her mark on the high card but put a penny on top of it, Virgil moved his from the two to the high card. The dealer then exposed the next two cards, first a ten and then a five.
Virgil and Martin both let out a groan and Mary squealed. She jumped up and hugged Aiken quickly before turning around and collecting both of their money from the banker. She then laughed and tried to make a spectacle of the fact that Virgil and Martin both lost and she and Aiken won.
Aiken held the nickel in his hand. It was the first card that had won. He stepped back from the faro table and returned to the table where the empty glasses were left. He fell into the dissonance and let it soak him in. He waited for the three to return to the table, Mary and Martin holding each other and Virgil walking behind. All of them had the same smile as they walked and sat around the table. Aiken found himself smiling as they sat around him. For the first time in his life he forgot.
“Let’s get this to Martin’s and then I’ll buy you a whiskey at The Oriental.” Virgil had rid himself of the crutch by then but still walked with a slight limp, a limp he walked with for the rest of his life.
It was an offer that had been made every time they unloaded in Santa Fe. For the first time, Aiken gave in to the proposition. They unhitched the horses and stabled them in the barn, “Let’s see if Martin and Mary want to go.” Virgil detoured into the house.
He came out with his brother in law and little sister. “Aiken, how are you?” Martin asked.
All Aiken could do was nod. He felt so conflicted at that very moment, he wanted to say that he was doing fine and yet he didn’t know what fine felt like, he was afraid of what fine felt like. He was afraid of feeling anything because he knew that he wouldn’t feel anything when it was important. Aiken nodded again.
“Let’s go.” Virgil grabbed his sister around the waist and hurried her along in front of him.
They walked to The Oriental, three plus one. Aiken walking along, belonging and not wanting to belong. The lights in the saloon were burning brightly and the windows were just beginning to show the slightest sign of fog building along their edges as the day began to cool into night. It was warm and inviting against the cold night that was quickly descending upon Santa Fe. The four of them walked into the saloon and found a table that was empty. Along the bar, people milled and joked together, it was difficult for Virgil to make his way through to get a shot of whiskey for himself and partner. Every faro table was flanked by people waiting to see the next card flipped, not carrying what fortunes they lost or won.
Aiken sat outside all of that, he watched and he listened. He strained to separate the dissonance into its several parts and make sense of what was being said underneath it all. It usually came natural for him and yet he had to work at it, he found himself somehow getting lost in that chaos.
“Here.” Virgil put the shot glass down on the table and then sat down himself.
“Where’s mine?” Martin asked.
“Did your husband do something to his legs that make it difficult for him to do things for himself?” Virgil asked his sister.
Mary laughed and told Martin to get his own if he wanted one. The light shown through her soft, brown hair as she tilted her head back and laughed. Its long, straight strands fell upon her shoulders as she turned her head and smiled. Her blue eyes glittered as they met Aiken’s and for the first time it was he who had to quickly change his gaze. He shook his head and threw back the shot sitting in front of him. The burning in his throat helped clear his mind. He stood up from the table and worked his way through the crowded floor to the nearest faro table.
He put his mark down on the five card. He waited for the dealer to flip the cards and expected to lose. The dealer called for bets and then put his hand on the dealers box, waiting for the last bets to be placed before he exposed the first card. He pulled away the last card and the box revealed the five of hearts. Aiken knew that he was going to lose and wondered why he had placed the bet. Somethings never change he told himself. He pulled a nickel from his pocket and flipped it on the table as he took his mark off.
He turned around to go back, to go back to his room and forget the day. Virgil, Martin, and Mary were behind him, stopping him from leaving the table.
“Play another one!” Mary smiled at Aiken as she pushed passed him and placed a mark on the high card.
Virgil and Martin also placed their marks on the table. Mary looked at Aiken and waited for him to put his mark on the table. “Maybe he’s out of money, Martin, give him another nickel.” She joked and pulled him towards the table.
He shook his head, wanting to get away from the table and yet finding himself getting lost in the dissonance. He put a mark on the five card again.
“Nothing like trying something new, huh?” Virgil joked.
Mary hit her brother in the side of his gut as she pushed herself into her husband, laughing.
They watched as the dealer exposed the banker’s card, a six, and the player’s card, a jack. Mary jumped and laughed when the jack was revealed, “I always play the high card.” And she held her hand out waiting for her nickel from the dealer.
Martin, Virgil, and Aiken waited for the next turn of cards. On the next turn, the banker’s card was a queen and the player’s card was a two. “Damn,” Virgil and Mary exasperated together. The word itself carried so little weight that it was somewhat comical to hear the words fall from their lips. They then smiled at each other, laughed and paid the bank. Mary left her mark on the high card but put a penny on top of it, Virgil moved his from the two to the high card. The dealer then exposed the next two cards, first a ten and then a five.
Virgil and Martin both let out a groan and Mary squealed. She jumped up and hugged Aiken quickly before turning around and collecting both of their money from the banker. She then laughed and tried to make a spectacle of the fact that Virgil and Martin both lost and she and Aiken won.
Aiken held the nickel in his hand. It was the first card that had won. He stepped back from the faro table and returned to the table where the empty glasses were left. He fell into the dissonance and let it soak him in. He waited for the three to return to the table, Mary and Martin holding each other and Virgil walking behind. All of them had the same smile as they walked and sat around the table. Aiken found himself smiling as they sat around him. For the first time in his life he forgot.
He sat for a long time, soaking in everything before he was awakened to reality.
“Well, we better be getting home.” Martin stood up with his wife’s hand in his.
“I better do the same,” Virgil stood up as well, “We’ll see you in the morning Aiken.”
Aiken stood to see the three off. He then walked up the stairs and to his room, leaving the dying din of the barroom behind him. His room was cold, he had left the window open that particular day. He turned up the wick in the lamp in the room to give him more light and he closed the window. He threw his hat and duster on the table next to the wash basin and pitcher of fresh water. Taking the pitcher, he poured some water in the washbasin and then ran his hands through the water. It was cold, refreshing to his touch. Cupping the water, he splashed it on his face, even though he knew it was cold, it was shocking as it hit his face. He watched as the dirt and grime rinsed off of his face and into the water below him.
He stood up and looked around him. The bed was made, as it was every evening when he got back. This time was different though, the bed looked inviting, it looked warm in the cold, crisp air of his room. He sat down on it. It was firm and the quilt on top was cool to his touch. It had been years since the last time he had sat down on a bed for anything more than a chair. It was familiar and yet so distant. He laid down on the quilt and let his body relax into the bed. Every muscle in his body relaxed as he took a deep breath in. He didn’t know how long he laid there, but the din from the saloon had completely died by the time he undressed and found himself beneath the quilt and the bed.
Regardless, the bed didn’t help him sleep. The only assurance that he got any sleep was the same dream, replaying in his mind every night. The lack of sleep had been his cross to bear for years and had become something that he never thought about again. There was plenty of time for sleep, he never knew when it would come, but he knew that it would.
“Well, we better be getting home.” Martin stood up with his wife’s hand in his.
“I better do the same,” Virgil stood up as well, “We’ll see you in the morning Aiken.”
Aiken stood to see the three off. He then walked up the stairs and to his room, leaving the dying din of the barroom behind him. His room was cold, he had left the window open that particular day. He turned up the wick in the lamp in the room to give him more light and he closed the window. He threw his hat and duster on the table next to the wash basin and pitcher of fresh water. Taking the pitcher, he poured some water in the washbasin and then ran his hands through the water. It was cold, refreshing to his touch. Cupping the water, he splashed it on his face, even though he knew it was cold, it was shocking as it hit his face. He watched as the dirt and grime rinsed off of his face and into the water below him.
He stood up and looked around him. The bed was made, as it was every evening when he got back. This time was different though, the bed looked inviting, it looked warm in the cold, crisp air of his room. He sat down on it. It was firm and the quilt on top was cool to his touch. It had been years since the last time he had sat down on a bed for anything more than a chair. It was familiar and yet so distant. He laid down on the quilt and let his body relax into the bed. Every muscle in his body relaxed as he took a deep breath in. He didn’t know how long he laid there, but the din from the saloon had completely died by the time he undressed and found himself beneath the quilt and the bed.
Regardless, the bed didn’t help him sleep. The only assurance that he got any sleep was the same dream, replaying in his mind every night. The lack of sleep had been his cross to bear for years and had become something that he never thought about again. There was plenty of time for sleep, he never knew when it would come, but he knew that it would.
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