Love Stacey

Love Stacey

By Richard Schwindt

copyright 2006 Richard Schwindt

Meet Jonathon Shaw

He inhabited lonely places and mostly drank. I can’t tell you more than that; or not right now. All that he had is mine: the house in North Frontenac and the cabin on Minnitaki Lake. I think that some furniture, silverware, maps, books, bottles of scotch and a few oddities comprised all of his worldly possessions.

His name was Jonathon Shaw. I met him one Saturday morning at the market in Kingston. He had fallen on the street, tripping over an antique stool that had been in his path. He fell heavily, directly in front of me. Without thought, I kneeled and helped him to his feet, holding him for a moment to ensure that he was steady. I caught a whiff of liquor on his breath.

When I let him go, he straightened his glasses and looked up at me. He then ran a hand through his hair. He was short with rounded shoulders. The day was warm and bright but he was dressed for rain.

He thanked me and turned to continue. Then he stopped, turned back towards me and asked my name. I told him and he paused for a moment and looked up at the sky. His eyes narrowed as if uncomfortable with the sun and without further elaboration asked me if I wanted a beer.

Inside the brew pub, a street over from the market, we sat in silence until the glasses came, then we drank together. He seemed happy to be off the street and sitting down. In the dim light he visibly relaxed. We talked a little, about the market, the provenance of local antiques and the quality of the beer brewed on the premises. We drank a little too much; he insisted on paying and we parted on friendly terms.

Later, as evening fell, Kevin came by my apartment for tea. I told him about Jonathon Shaw and our encounter. I had known Kevin since undergrad. He had chosen accounting for his career and found a place with a good firm. He remained single into his thirties and lived an austere lifestyle in a small house off Union.

We lit candles. Kevin drank his tea slowly and asked questions I couldn’t answer. Where did Jonathon Shaw live? What did he do? Did he want something from me? All I could do is speculate. Kevin was curious but didn’t push. How could he? This was an every day mystery with no solution. Before he left, Kevin warned me that I might hear from Shaw again.

The following morning it rained. From my window I could see the darkened streets and the trees leaning away from the wind off the lake. So when he arrived at my door he was wet and disarranged. He apologized as I stepped aside to offer him shelter. He had been downtown and wanted to see me again. Did I mind terribly?

I hung his jacket on a hook by the entrance. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to dry his glasses. I asked him to come into the kitchen with me for coffee. He wheezed as he spoke and I thought that he might be ill. But he was cold so I pulled a bottle of Scotch and held it over his coffee. He laughed and nodded and gestured with his hand to top up the cup. As we sat over our cups I studied him and asked more questions. He looked to be about sixty, though an old sixty. His glasses were thick and without them he might almost be blind. As he spoke he rubbed his hands together, perhaps to aid circulation. They were slim hands, fitted perhaps for music or some other delicate activity.

He told me that he was a retired teacher. Not that he had taught in an institution, more a private tutor in classical languages. He lived north of Kingston but came to town most days for coffee, to read in the library and later for drinks. Four months of the year he lived on an island in Northern Ontario.

Jonathon Shaw had no relations and spent most of his time alone. He seemed grateful for my hospitality. Colour returned to his face as he drank the coffee laced with whisky. He spoke more freely, asking me questions about myself, my work, and my friends. He asked me which books I read and languages I spoke. Finally, he arose, apologized once more and asked if he could reciprocate my hospitality at his home. He gave me directions and we agreed on dinner in a week. Then with his coat back in place he disappeared into the rain.