Life Among The Shadows

Life Among The Shadows;
A Tale of Maine Life

George Anderson was a quiet, retiring man, given to sullen
introspection and a resigned indifference. He was prone to few excesses
other than that inordinate degree of social apathy.

A man of medium build and height, George, if not for a slight crook in
his nose, might have been considered presentable. His appearance, or
rather his perception of how his appearance affected others, played an
essential role in his choice of profession and in his interactions. He
saw his facial features as an impediment, something that others simply
would not over-look. It clouded his thinking and altered his life, but
those, ultimately, were his choices to make.

George owned a used bookstore in a small corner building on Richmond's
main street. This run-down brick edifice, constructed in the
mid-1870's, had been completely restored many years later. Even after
the restoration, the building looked more like a relic of a dying town
than a existing document of municipal history. It's brick exterior
having become faded and chipped; this building was in fact, the perfect
spot for a used bookstore.

Musty, moth-eaten and forgotten, the books that George sold, if I may
be bold and assume that he actually sold any, were a testament to an
era that had long since died. The building cast a pall over these works
of forgotten past and in turn they seemingly absorbed the acrid odor of
this diseased structure and there-by became a presentiment of all that
it conveyed.

George Anderson lived upstairs in an apartment over the bookstore. Drab
and with sense of gloom, the two rooms that made-up George's living
quarters seemed imbued with a desiccation, an arid pallor that couldn't
be removed by mere paint and plaster. His apartment was no bleaker than
was the bookstore below, but the used books, shelved and alphabetized,
made the rundown store seem presentable. Because of this, George spent
most of his waking hours, not in his apartment but in the store,
surrounded by his books.

The written word had become George's life. A passion turned obsession,
books had become a surrogate for a more earthy existence that George
had long since given up hope of finding. The bookstore had become his
life and the infrequent customer had become a necessary intrusion. They
brought needed cash to George's pocket that enabled him to continue
avoiding the world around him; something George desperately desired to
maintain.

Thus, George's life was orderly and predictable. There were no highs or
lows and George considered it a good day when he was able to remain on
that even plane. He had no thoughts of a better life, because quite
simply, this was his life; seemingly pre-ordained, there didn't appear
to be an obvious reason to refute what he'd already come to know.

This lifestyle went on for a number of years and George one day found
himself 50 years of age and still unmarried. In fact, he had no
thoughts of wedded bliss; no understanding of life subjugated to
another. Having sublimated such desires into his dispirited world of
musty books, he was unprepared and maybe even unwilling to alter his
lifestyle of so many years.

It was during this most typical 50th year that a most untypical thing
happened; George, the anti-social bookworm met Nicole, a woman who
would re-define his nature.

Their friendship began, predictably enough, when Nicole, a still
attractive 43 year old brunette with a sad smile and an even
disposition, would visit George's bookstore and would peruse the dusty
shelves in search of Historical Romances. She would spend hours
glancing the shelves, looking for works of now forgotten authors like,
R. D. Blackmore and Baron de la Motte Fouque, taking pleasure in the
belief that she was resurrecting their dated works and consequently,
their lives and dreams.

Eventually they began to discuss the books that Nicole purchased and a
friendship began. Nicole, an affluent, married Accountant, with a
subtle wit and a thorough mind, would seem to have been an odd pairing
for the shy, unambitious, retiring store owner, but there was a quality
to both personalitirs, maybe a cry to be understood, which connected
the two...as friends. That is all that it was, nothing more. They were
friends who seemed to have a common need; Nicole to be understood and
George, the need to understand. Each, at least in the beginning, seemed
to accept the other on those grounds. So this odd but perfect pair,
became intellectual and emotional intimates, sharing thoughts and
feelings that many married couples never shared.

Nicole's husband, a taciturn man of few real passions, but who
none-the-less loved Nicole in a manner best understood by himself,
worked nights as an attending emergency room physician, and this
provided Nicole and George the opportunity to meet in the
evenings.

George and Nicole's relationship, as mentioned, was platonic, but to
suggest that there wasn't a level of caring would be untruthful. Nicole
saw in George, a missing ingredient, maybe it was his acceptance of
Nicole as she was, that he never required more of her than she was
prepared to give. Maybe it was her knowledge that in George she had a
dedicated friend who adored her in a way that other men never had, as
an intellectual equal. Whatever the reason, she cared deeply for
George, but those feelings were vague and unspecified, and this fact
was known by both of them.

As for George's part, his feelings for Nicole were somewhat more
specific, but not by any means easily understood. There was a
hedonistic part of him that simply enjoyed the pretty face and
friendly, soothing voice. There was the narcissistic part of him that
enjoyed the attention of an intelligent, well-mannered woman, someone
so unlike himself. They both enjoyed the intellectual give and take as
well as the subtle humor that each brought to their friendship, but in
the end, the true depth of their friendship remained undefined. It
stood above their many nights of introspective questioning and remained
the great unknown reason for their friendship. What they failed to
understand was a very simple truth, that they both were alone. George,
in the strictest sense had no friends or relatives that he cared to
remember, Nicole in a more emotional sense, was alone, yearning,
searching, grasping for an anchor by which to feel grounded and thus
safe.

So this odd relationship continued to blossom,. They became so adept at
each others moods that each could play off the other and thus arguments
were few. However, the disagreements that did occur seemed to the
friends, to be of tragic proportions. These arguments usually brought
on by emotional differences were short but were always of lasting
effect. After one such encounter, George would be moody, and
uncommunicative, while Nicole would be aloof, showing the hurt in
unexpressive distraction. Their conversations would become monosyballic
and often each would seem pre-occupied, not wanting to remain in each
other's company and yet fearing that an early separation would bring
about a precedent that neither could halt. Thus Nicole would remain,
often wandering around the bookstore lost in thought, while George
would sit, pretending to read a book, of which he knew nothing
about.

Ultimately they'd talk, they'd work out their difficulties, for their
friendship was essential and of far more importance than the emotional
flaws of the two. Then their conversations would resume, their
friendship re-affirmed, more solidified than it had been before.

Thus, the years went by; the two becoming more comfortable with the
each other's peculiarities, more adept at avoiding the pratfalls of
their relationship. Thus the friendship became orderly and predictable,
which was what each of them desired. Each needed a place to feel safe
and they found it in each other's words and actions.

TWO
Anyone who knows anything about life knows that good things usually
come to a tragic end. Therefore, it shouldn't surprise us that the
friendship of George and Nicole suffered a most tragic demise.

One day Nicole arrived at the bookstore; she noticed that there were
telltale signs that something wasn't right. Despite being past closing
time, the door wasn't locked and the shades, which were always
scrupulously drawn, were left apparently untouched. Nicole entered the
bookstore, and called out to George, but there was no answer. She
approached his desk where they usually sat during their evening chats
and there she saw George.

Slumped over his desk, Nicole called to him in a plaintive voice, she
quickly approached and shook him, but to no avail, Quivering, she
reached for the phone and dialed for help. The Paramedics soon arrived,
but it was too late, George had died of a massive heart attack. He had
left the world the way he had come into it, quietly and alone.
Appropriately, the one who had found him was his friend. The only one
who would mourn over his passing.

Most of Nicole's family and friends took her grief to be associated
with finding the dead body of the bookstore owner. Many talked about
how Nicole was "putting on", that there was no reason for her to feel
so much sorrow over someone she only remotely knew. s When asked she
told everyone to simply leave her alone, and though she never admitted
the friendship, she wouldn't let them denounce her feelings toward him
either. Nicole felt that at least in this manner she was honoring the
memory of her friend.

There was even more talk when Nicole made it known that she was going
to attend George's funeral. Her husband, offered to attend but Nicole
remained steadfast that this was a duty she had to fulfill alone, and
since the funeral took place on a Sunday, her husband wasn't eager to
miss that afternoon's football games and simply let his offer drop
after a cursory attempt.

The funeral was understandably small. Three or four distant relatives,
out of a sense of familiar duty, made the trip from the Portland area;
the elderly lady that rented the building and adjoining apartment, felt
compelled for some reason best known to herself, to be present; one
bookstore patron, who had an extra hour to kill, made an appearance;
and then, there was Nicole.

Standing silent and strong, she refused to show tears. It was such an
untypical setting for the two friends. She owed George, out of their
friendship, not to cry, not to let her resolve be broken before this
unfeeling group. She would show no emotions, impregnable, she was
determined to see their friendship to its proper conclusion.

The funeral over, Nicole returned to her car and got in. In a moment,
everyone had dispersed and Nicole leaned her head on the steering wheel
and for the first time allowed herself to cry. She had a long life
ahead of her, and for the first time she realized that she was suddenly
so very alone. Tonight while her husband worked, she'd watch 60 minutes
on television and then go to bed early. Tomorrow there was the Monday
night lineup on CBS, or if she preferred, she could clean the house.
Over-whelmed with the enormity of her future she finally broke the
overwhelming silence of the situation, "George, why did you have to
die, why did you have to leave me?" she managed to utter between
sobs.

It would, from now on, be a new world for Nicole, and as she composed
herself and finally started the car, she realized that this new world
had, for her, only just begun.