William.

Episode 3 : William goes for movies

"No, thank you. You see, there is no point in collecting many things. You never know, with the lungs."

"Oh, William!"

His concern was pathetic.

- Of course, he said quickly, if I pay attention, everything will be fine. Don't worry about me. »

- John! » he left the house. "It's mother. Good-bye, dear William. If papa brings me chocolate home, I'll bring it to you. I would, please. Thanks for the aubergine eyes." Bye bye. »

"Good-bye, and don't worry about me," he added boldly.

He put another eggplant eye in his mouth and wandered aimlessly in front of the house. Her grown sister, Ethel, was in the doorway, shaking hands with a young man.

"I'll do anything I can for you," he said seriously.

They joined hands.

"I know I love you," he said with equal seriousness.

The look and the handshake were long. The young man left. Ethel stood at the door, looking at him with a distant look. William was interested.

"It was Jack Morgan, wasn't it?" he said.

"Yes," said Ethel absently, and went home.

The sight, the long handshake, the words remain etched in Guglielmo's memory. They must have been very fond of each other, as people are when they get engaged, but I knew they weren't. Maybe they were too proud to show each other how much they loved each other - like the man and the girl in the photo. Ethel wanted a brother like the one in the picture to let her husband know she loved him. Then suddenly, a light went on in Guglielmo's mind and he stopped, lost in thought.

In the living room, Ethel was talking to her mother. "He's going to propose next Sunday. He told me because I'm his best friend and he wanted to ask me if he thought he had a chance. I said I thought he had a chance and I said I I would try to fix it a little and put in a word in his favor. Isn't that exciting?"

"Yes, my love. By the way, have you seen William anywhere?" I hope he doesn't do anything stupid.

"He was in the front garden a minute ago." He went to the window. "But he's not here now. William had just arrived at Mr. Morgan's house.

The maid took it to Mr. Morgan.

"Mr. Brown," he announced.

The young man rose to receive his guest with politeness mixed with perplexity. I didn't know much about William.

"Hello," said William. "I'm from Ethel."

"Yes?"

"Yes." Guglielmo reached into his pocket and ended up taking out a rose bud, slightly crushed by its closure, in the company of eggplant eyes, a penknife, a spinning tip and a piece of mastic.

"He sent you this," said William gravely.

Mr. Morgan looked at him like a sleepwalker. William offering rosebuds to Mr. Morgan. "HE SENT YOU THIS!" » SAID WILLIAM SERIE. "Yes? Well, very good of him."

"A better memory." A memory,” William explained. "Yes. A message?"

"Oh, yes. She wants you to come see her tonight."

"Um…yeah." of course. I came back from his place. Maybe he remembered something he wanted to tell me after I left.

"Perhaps."

Then: "At a certain time?" »

"No. About seven, I think."

"Oh, yes."

Mr. Morgan's eyes were fixed with a look of fascination and amazement on the soft and flawless pink.

"Did you say she sent this?" »

"Yes. "

"And no other message?" »

"No. "

- Well, I say I'll be happy to come, right? »

"Yes. "

Silence.

Then: "He thinks a lot of you, Ethel."

Mr. Morgan ran a hand over his forehead.

"Yes? Nice…oh…very nice, I'm sure."

"She always talks about you in her sleep," William continued, turning to his subject. "I sleep in the other room and I hear him talking about you all night. She repeats your name over and over again. "Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan. William's voice was alive and soulful. "So, again and again. "Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan. »

Mr. Morgan was speechless. He sat down to look at his new visitor with a frightened face.

"Are you sure?" he finally said. "Maybe it's someone else's name."

"No, it's not," said William firmly. "It's yours. 'Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan'—like." And now he doesn't eat anything. She is always at the window watching you pass. »

Mr. Morgan sweat broke out on his forehead.

"It's terrible," he finally said in a hoarse whisper.

William was happy. The young man was finally aware of his cruelty. But Guglielmo never liked to leave a task half done. He sat there and calmly and silently considered his next statement. Mechanically, he put a hand in his pocket and brought a stupid eye to his mouth. Mr. Morgan also sat quietly, staring into space.

"He's got your picture," said William at last, "attached to one of those round things on a chain around his neck."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Morgan asked desperately. "It is fate," said William, rising. Well, better go. She just wants to see you tonight. Bye bye. »

But Mr. Morgan did not answer. He remained perched in his chair, looking straight ahead, long after William had gone. Then he got wet and his lips were dry.

"Oh my god," he moaned.

William thought about the paintings on the way home. The painter was really good. When everyone was covered in paint! And when they all fell down the stairs! William suddenly burst out laughing as he remembered. But what did the painter do in the beginning, before he started painting? He had removed the old paint with some kind of lighter and a knife, then started applying the new paint. He had barely melted the old paint and then scraped it off. William had never seen it in real life, but assumed that was how you removed the old painting. The melting with some kind of fire, then scraping off. I wasn't sure that was the case, but I might find out. Entering the house, he took the penknife from his pocket, opened it thoughtfully, and went upstairs.

Mr. Brown came home about dinner time.

"How's your head, Dad?" Ethel asked sympathetically.

"Rotten!" said Mr. Brown, sinking wearily into an armchair.

"Perhaps dinner will do him good," said Mrs. Brown. Brown, "It should be ready now."

The maid entered the room.

"Mr. Morgan, Mom." He wants to see Miss Ethel. I took it to the library. »

"NOW burst out Mr. Brown, "why does this young i***t come at this hour of the day? Seven hours! What time do you think we will have dinner? What do you mean by coming to visit people at dinner time? She…”

"Ethel, dear," interrupted Mrs. Brown, "go see what he wants, and get as much out of him as you can." »

Ethel entered the library, carefully closing the door behind her, so as not to hear her father's comments, which were clearly heard throughout the room.

She noticed something pale and bored in Mr. Morgan's face as he rose to say hello. "Um... good evening, Miss Brown."

"Good evening, Mr. Morgan."

They sat in silence, both waiting for an explanation of their visit. The silence became oppressive. Mr. Morgan, in deep misery and shame, shifted his legs and coughed. Ethel looked at the clock. So what…

- Was it raining when you arrived, Mr. Morgan? »

- Was it raining? Well, no. Not at all. »

Silence.

"I thought it was raining this afternoon."

"Yes of course. Well, no, not at all."

Silence.

"It makes the roads very bad here when it rains."

"Yes." Mr. Morgan raised his hand as if to remove his neck. "Um, sorry."

"Like impractical."

"Um, absolutely."

There was silence again.

In the living room, Mr. Brown began to worry.

- Will dinner wait for this young man all night? A quarter to seven! You know that's exactly what I can't do - have my meals interrupted. Was I going to have an upset stomach just because this young fool chooses to make his social visits at seven o'clock in the evening? »

"Then we should invite him to dinner," said Mrs. Brown. Brown, desperate. "We really have to do this."

"We shouldn't," said Mr. Brown. "I can't be out of the office for a day with a headache without having to entertain every new a*s for miles." The phone rang. He raised his hands above his head.

"Oh..."

"I do, dear," said Mrs. Brown. Brown hastened to come.

She turned with an anxious rush.

"It's Mrs. Clive," he said. “She said Joanna was very ill from a terrible piece of candy William gave her and said she was very sorry to hear the news about William and hoped he would get well soon. I did not understand well, but apparently William told him that he needed to see a doctor about his lungs and the doctor said that they were very weak and they had to be careful. Mr. Brown sat down and looked at her. "But why the hell?" he said slowly.

"I don't know, dear," said Mrs. Brown helplessly. "I do not know. "

"It's crazy," Mr. Brown said with conviction. "Crazy. That's the only explanation."

Then the front door opens and closes and Ethel enters. She was all red.

William was kneeling behind his door, from which a cloud of smoke had risen. WILLIAM WAS HAPPY AND SILENT burning the PAINTING on the bedroom door. "It's gone," he said. Mom, it's really terrible! He didn't tell me much, but it seems that William went to his house and told him that he only wanted to see him at seven o'clock tonight. I didn't talk to William today. He could not have misunderstood what I said. And he took a flower with him—a head of a horrible looking rose—and told me he had sent it. I just didn't know where to look or what to say. It was terrible! »

Mrs. Brown sat looking weakly at her daughter.

Mr. Brown rose with the air of a man pushed beyond his strength.

"Where is William?" he asked quickly. "I don't know, but I thought I heard him coming up the stairs a while ago."

William was upstairs. For twenty minutes he had been quiet and happy lying at the door of his room, a lighted candle in one hand and a penknife in the other. There was no doubt. With a successful experiment, he had shown that this was how the old paint was removed. When Mr. Brown arrived, he had completely removed a panel from his painting. An hour later, William was sitting in the garden on an overturned box, inhaling, with some insistence, the last and nastiest of Gooseberry Eyes. Unfortunately it took a toll on the day. It was not successful. His generosity towards the little girl next door had been misinterpreted as an assassination attempt, his efforts to help the only sister with her love affair were painfully overlooked, and ultimately because he had discovered (among other things) a completely scientific methodology for eliminating the old. ink, he had been brutally assaulted by an abusive and unreasonable parent. Suddenly, William began to wonder if his father was drinking. He saw himself, through a pathetic fog, like a drunkard's child. He tried to imagine his father crying over him in the hospital and begging for his forgiveness. It was a miracle he wasn't here now, anyway. His shoulders sagged, his whole demeanor expressed extreme despair.

Inside the house, the father, lying on an armchair, talked for a long time with his wife about his son. One hand was pressed against his indolent forehead and the other gestured freely. "She's crazy," he said, "absolutely crazy. You should take her to a doctor and have her brain examined. See today. She's starting to throw me into the rhododendron trees—without any provocation, mind. He had not spoken to him. So try to poison this sweet little creature next door with some nasty thing I thought I'd throw away. Then he starts telling people he has tuberculosis. It looks like it is, doesn't it? Then he receives extraordinary messages and signs of love from Ethel for the strange young people and brings them here just as we are about to start dinner, and then turns to the burning doors and breaking them. What's the point in that? These are the actions of a madman, you should check his brain. »

Mrs. Brown cut up her wonderful wool and laid aside the stocking she had just finished.

"It seems very silly indeed, my dear," he said softly. "But there might be an explanation for all this, if only we knew. Guys are such funny people. »

Looking at the clock and went to the window: "Guglielmo!" he called. "It's time to sleep, my love. »

Guglielmo got up sadly and walked slowly home.

"Good night, mother," he said, then turned a sad look and scolded his father.

"Good night, father," he said. Don't think about what you've done, I..."

He stopped and decided, hastily but wisely, to retreat as quickly as possible.