The Bystander: A Short Story
The night sky was clouded with a tired haze, sending the city into an emotional collapse of anything exciting. Even the typically wild taxi services buzzed with boredom, and the street lights sent any bystanders into a mental slumber. With bland weather, came bland people, who had many things to accomplish while the rest of the city folk were caught in the whirlwind of disinterest. Genevíve Luther was one of those bland people, and she indeed had many things to accomplish that evening. Though, those many things were far from bland. Genevíve Luther was an actively old woman, with more pump to her step than your average elderly homemaker. Though her confidence was feigned, and quite obviously so (if you knew anything about her), she still maintained
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a poise that you, and anyone of common sense, felt driven to respect. One thing is for certain, and that's that you're probably curious as to why a little old woman of 72 was wandering into a dark alley, alone in the dead of night. Well, like it was said before, she had many a not-bland thing to accomplish. And this was thing #5 on her list.
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"Good evening Nick. Lovely night isn't it?" "…" "Oh Nick, now I know that brute facade of your's is an absolute ruse. Pay me some attention, wont you? I have to wait for my girls to get here, and it'd be terribly lonely for a relic like me to wait with only my own silence to keep me entertained." She pressed, searching the tall man's face for response. She beamed brightly when he finally sighed, thumbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion before looking to Genevíve with a tired smile. "Gene, you always know how to get to me." "I had a boy like you, as I've told you. I know your soft spots, and that'd be me." "Hah, you're right Gene. You're right." "Of course. So now, how's the night been? I hate to imagine you standing out here for hours without so much as a snack." "Listen Gene, when it comes to the salary, I'm more than happy to skip a meal." "Nonsense! Look, I've got some cookies in my purse, just for you. If you don't tell your manager, then neither will I." "Gene…you know the way to a man's heart." He sighed sweetly, graciously accepting the little plastic wrap package she had dug out of her purse for him. "Make those last now, you hear? I don't want to come out here for a breath of air later and find nothing but crumbs in your pocket!" "I'll do my best." "Good. You know Nick, I still to this day will never understand why you're out here, rather than in there. You'd make an excellent performer." "You have said so before, haven't you. Well, while I am flattered, I think I'm better suited for the duty of guard dog, don't you?" "Hm, perhaps." She said carefully, clearly not convinced but not one to argue. As she began to word curiosity in regards to his mother, a loud screech of a voice echoed down the alley, startling Genevíve where she stood. "Gene!
There you are, you old goose! I thought you'd be waiting in the bar! To think of you down in these depths, it's unimaginable." Crooned a particularly tall and slender woman, with sharp features that Genevíve believed to suit her sharp tongue perfectly. Behind her stalked another woman, the meeker of the trio, who towered above the two of them like an telephone post to a mail box. "Samantha, must you yell? You'll attract attention!" She spit in a frantic voice, trying to catch up with Samantha's stride. "Jocelyn hush. Tonight is the only night I can scream and yell as much as I please. Lord knows how long it's been since I've done any of the sort in my own bed." Genevíve sighed in irritation, ignoring the chuckle-turned-cough that sounded from Nick, who tried his best to muffle his reaction into his shoulder before returning to attention. Samantha, selectively oblivious to her comrades' mortification simply marched past them, flashed her I.D. to Nick, and then tapped her toe impatiently as he swiftly peeled back the door for her. "Come along girls." She ordered with a sing-song tone, before walking into the pitch of the hall. Samantha stalked behind her, while Genevíve followed, but not before giving Nick a gentle pat on the shoulder and a little wave. …show more content…
-- "Evening, beautifuls. Anything I can get for you?" Hummed a broad shouldered boy, probably only in his late 20's. Samantha, without looking up, perused the ticket menu and began chattering away on the specifications to her drink. Genevíve, who was still settling herself into the booth, overwhelmed by the neon lights and thunderous music, simply waved her hand and mumbled 'orange juice', before the server went on to ask Jocelyn for her order. She seemed to have been paying the most attention to the server, as her voice revealed everything they had yet to see. Samantha and Genevíve both turned their gazes to gawk at the young man, who wore nothing but leather suspenders and very tight, small shorts that led Jocelyn's already high voice to go even higher. "Ooh…sweetheart, make sure you stick around, I might have to take you up on some extra service." Samantha charmed. The young man smiled, with obvious discomfort as far as Genevíve could tell, before sashaying away to the counter to order their drinks. With Jocelyn still composing herself, Genevíve took the responsibility of speaking up. "Samantha dear, you've embarrassed that poor boy." "Poor boy my 58 years dead virginity, he's an employee, and I am a customer." "Goodness Samantha, have some tact. We're in public!" "Gene, darling, maybe you forget where we are." "I know perfectly well where we are, yet that doesn't mean I don't have an ounce of respect for my public image!" "You lost that respect when you traded out a night beside your sleeping husband for an evening in a strip club." "That doesn't mean I don't still respect myself, and my marriage." "What do you call this, Gene? Fun? Entertainment? A pick-me-up?" "Yes, I'd say so." "Odd, most men say the same of pornography. And I've heard of many a wife who has killed her husband over that." "Oh girls, let's not argue. I've already had a stressful enough evening." Jocelyn whispered sharply. Both women met her with expecting silence, ready to evaluate whatever events had spoiled her night thus far. "I barely made it out the door tonight, Harold was painfully curious. You both know what a terrible fibber I am, so I almost gave it away." "Barely made it out the door! Hah! Josey, your husband has been wheelchair-bound for 15 years! What's he going to do, block the door with those big spokes of his? Or perhaps scoot behind you all the way here?" "Samantha, you're terrible." Scolded Genevíve, to which Jocelyn nodded in agreement.
"Samantha, I love my husband. And I hate to lie to him like this. Before it was simply a little avoidance of the truth, now it's becoming a retched sin." "Josey, if you loved that man, you'd be with him and not here." "Oh, Samantha, don't say that." "Well is it not true? Gene, we both know that husband of your's is long past his mental prime. Just last week you were telling me of his little adventures, completely emptying your emergency account, trudging over to the nearest bar, asking for a milkshake! On cocktail night! The sheer embarrassment of it all!" "Hush Samantha. The server is back." Jocelyn muttered, turning to smile shyly at the young man as he strutted towards them with a tray in hand. "I've got here, one black velvet," he started, setting the first drink down in front of Samantha, who made a scene of accepting it straight from his hand and brushing her crypt-keeper fingers across his gingerly, "uh, a virgin bloody mary- and an orange juice. Are we all set for now?" "Virgin bloody mary-" Samantha started to criticize poor Jocelyn, before Genevíve hushed her. "Perfectly
so!" "Wait a minute now, I have a request!" Samantha pressed, urging Jocelyn and Genevíve so reconsider their seating arrangements beside their friend. "Yes?" "How much for a tall and handsome glass of crystalline water, if you know what I mean, hm?" She said in as sultry a voice as her old wind pipes could manage. "Please. Don't mind her, she's simply 76 going on 35…" "Oh phooey, they're joking. I'm actually only 64!" She smiled, with a slight glare towards Jocelyn who had nearly sprayed her drink across the table. "I'll ask the bartender." The server replied, with a tight lipped smile, before happily evicting himself from the stares of three old women. "Well I'll be damned-" "Language!" "-He is one very handsome slab of meat!" Samantha cooed, ignoring Genevíve's distress. "Girls, I was serious earlier…" Jocelyn began, taking a tentative sip from her drink. "I don't know if I'll manage these escapades much longer…shame overwhelms me every time my eyes so much as meet with those of the pastor…I feel as though he knows…I wish I had the courage to confess, but I'm even ashamed of doing that! I wish I were still catholic…" "Nonsense Josey! Utter nonsense! I won't hear any talk of church here tonight! I don't want the Lord to hear us and get distracted from those more in need in the slums. Then we'll surely be punished!" "Stop your pathetic excuses Samantha. Josey is right, this is a dangerous game we're playing here." "Dangerously fun. Girls, there is a difference. Mind you I may be the more adventurous spirit of our group, but I wont stand for any denial from you both. You like the events that transpire here as much as I do." "Perhaps we do, but at least we have the decency to feel a lick of shame for it. We don't exactly want our husbands leaving us at the drop of a hat over this as much as you do." "I am merely a victim of temptation. Oh heavenly father send me to the burning depths where I belong, as if it weren't you who first tainted me with these natural willings of the body and mind…" "I'd like to see you try and repent to the pastor with a verbal lashing like that, it's embarrassing Samantha. Absolutely shameful." "Hoohoo, you've known me 23 years Gene. By now you've surely gotten used to it. Ah- Waiter!" "Uncomfortably so," Genevíve remarked, as a new waiter strutted up to their table. Samantha's whims were once more easily impressed, as her eyes began to look him up and down as if he were unaware of her gaze. "So, you have a name honey?" "Yeah, I'mtooyoungforyou…the third." "Really? I think my father may have known your's!" She replied much too quickly, prompting Genevíve and Jocelyn to huddle close and strike up their own conversation in a vain attempt to make it appear as if they didn't know her. "Interesting. What can I get for you?" "Where'd the other one wander off to?" "His uh, shift ended. I'm the bartender so anything you like I'll be mixing myself." "Ooh! Then how about you mix us up an-" At this point, Genevíve's hearing aid had coincidentally shorted out for a brief moment. Though the look of disgust and mortification that tore across Jocelyn's face like snagged silk held enough knowing that Genevíve was grateful the Lord was still on her side, at least in this sense. "Cola it is. Anything else ladies?" The waiter/bartender asked patiently. "I'll take another orange juice. Put something light in it. Anything at this point. I need it." Genevíve sighed. "Cola, juice mix, okay. Anything else? Anything for you?" He nodded towards Jocelyn. Once she shook her head he was on his way behind the counter, leaving two tired old women and one teenage lady's-man in a 76 year old woman's body to sit and ponder about their options for the evening. "Regardless, I intend to at least stay for the show tonight. I suggest the same for you girls, as it might prompt your decision making to be a bit more rational." Samantha exhaled, wiping away the condensation stain beneath her glass with a napkin.
a poise that you, and anyone of common sense, felt driven to respect. One thing is for certain, and that's that you're probably curious as to why a little old woman of 72 was wandering into a dark alley, alone in the dead of night. Well, like it was said before, she had many a not-bland thing to accomplish. And this was thing #5 on her list.
--
"Good evening Nick. Lovely night isn't it?" "…" "Oh Nick, now I know that brute facade of your's is an absolute ruse. Pay me some attention, wont you? I have to wait for my girls to get here, and it'd be terribly lonely for a relic like me to wait with only my own silence to keep me entertained." She pressed, searching the tall man's face for response. She beamed brightly when he finally sighed, thumbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion before looking to Genevíve with a tired smile. "Gene, you always know how to get to me." "I had a boy like you, as I've told you. I know your soft spots, and that'd be me." "Hah, you're right Gene. You're right." "Of course. So now, how's the night been? I hate to imagine you standing out here for hours without so much as a snack." "Listen Gene, when it comes to the salary, I'm more than happy to skip a meal." "Nonsense! Look, I've got some cookies in my purse, just for you. If you don't tell your manager, then neither will I." "Gene…you know the way to a man's heart." He sighed sweetly, graciously accepting the little plastic wrap package she had dug out of her purse for him. "Make those last now, you hear? I don't want to come out here for a breath of air later and find nothing but crumbs in your pocket!" "I'll do my best." "Good. You know Nick, I still to this day will never understand why you're out here, rather than in there. You'd make an excellent performer." "You have said so before, haven't you. Well, while I am flattered, I think I'm better suited for the duty of guard dog, don't you?" "Hm, perhaps." She said carefully, clearly not convinced but not one to argue. As she began to word curiosity in regards to his mother, a loud screech of a voice echoed down the alley, startling Genevíve where she stood. "Gene!
There you are, you old goose! I thought you'd be waiting in the bar! To think of you down in these depths, it's unimaginable." Crooned a particularly tall and slender woman, with sharp features that Genevíve believed to suit her sharp tongue perfectly. Behind her stalked another woman, the meeker of the trio, who towered above the two of them like an telephone post to a mail box. "Samantha, must you yell? You'll attract attention!" She spit in a frantic voice, trying to catch up with Samantha's stride. "Jocelyn hush. Tonight is the only night I can scream and yell as much as I please. Lord knows how long it's been since I've done any of the sort in my own bed." Genevíve sighed in irritation, ignoring the chuckle-turned-cough that sounded from Nick, who tried his best to muffle his reaction into his shoulder before returning to attention. Samantha, selectively oblivious to her comrades' mortification simply marched past them, flashed her I.D. to Nick, and then tapped her toe impatiently as he swiftly peeled back the door for her. "Come along girls." She ordered with a sing-song tone, before walking into the pitch of the hall. Samantha stalked behind her, while Genevíve followed, but not before giving Nick a gentle pat on the shoulder and a little wave. …show more content…
-- "Evening, beautifuls. Anything I can get for you?" Hummed a broad shouldered boy, probably only in his late 20's. Samantha, without looking up, perused the ticket menu and began chattering away on the specifications to her drink. Genevíve, who was still settling herself into the booth, overwhelmed by the neon lights and thunderous music, simply waved her hand and mumbled 'orange juice', before the server went on to ask Jocelyn for her order. She seemed to have been paying the most attention to the server, as her voice revealed everything they had yet to see. Samantha and Genevíve both turned their gazes to gawk at the young man, who wore nothing but leather suspenders and very tight, small shorts that led Jocelyn's already high voice to go even higher. "Ooh…sweetheart, make sure you stick around, I might have to take you up on some extra service." Samantha charmed. The young man smiled, with obvious discomfort as far as Genevíve could tell, before sashaying away to the counter to order their drinks. With Jocelyn still composing herself, Genevíve took the responsibility of speaking up. "Samantha dear, you've embarrassed that poor boy." "Poor boy my 58 years dead virginity, he's an employee, and I am a customer." "Goodness Samantha, have some tact. We're in public!" "Gene, darling, maybe you forget where we are." "I know perfectly well where we are, yet that doesn't mean I don't have an ounce of respect for my public image!" "You lost that respect when you traded out a night beside your sleeping husband for an evening in a strip club." "That doesn't mean I don't still respect myself, and my marriage." "What do you call this, Gene? Fun? Entertainment? A pick-me-up?" "Yes, I'd say so." "Odd, most men say the same of pornography. And I've heard of many a wife who has killed her husband over that." "Oh girls, let's not argue. I've already had a stressful enough evening." Jocelyn whispered sharply. Both women met her with expecting silence, ready to evaluate whatever events had spoiled her night thus far. "I barely made it out the door tonight, Harold was painfully curious. You both know what a terrible fibber I am, so I almost gave it away." "Barely made it out the door! Hah! Josey, your husband has been wheelchair-bound for 15 years! What's he going to do, block the door with those big spokes of his? Or perhaps scoot behind you all the way here?" "Samantha, you're terrible." Scolded Genevíve, to which Jocelyn nodded in agreement.
"Samantha, I love my husband. And I hate to lie to him like this. Before it was simply a little avoidance of the truth, now it's becoming a retched sin." "Josey, if you loved that man, you'd be with him and not here." "Oh, Samantha, don't say that." "Well is it not true? Gene, we both know that husband of your's is long past his mental prime. Just last week you were telling me of his little adventures, completely emptying your emergency account, trudging over to the nearest bar, asking for a milkshake! On cocktail night! The sheer embarrassment of it all!" "Hush Samantha. The server is back." Jocelyn muttered, turning to smile shyly at the young man as he strutted towards them with a tray in hand. "I've got here, one black velvet," he started, setting the first drink down in front of Samantha, who made a scene of accepting it straight from his hand and brushing her crypt-keeper fingers across his gingerly, "uh, a virgin bloody mary- and an orange juice. Are we all set for now?" "Virgin bloody mary-" Samantha started to criticize poor Jocelyn, before Genevíve hushed her. "Perfectly
so!" "Wait a minute now, I have a request!" Samantha pressed, urging Jocelyn and Genevíve so reconsider their seating arrangements beside their friend. "Yes?" "How much for a tall and handsome glass of crystalline water, if you know what I mean, hm?" She said in as sultry a voice as her old wind pipes could manage. "Please. Don't mind her, she's simply 76 going on 35…" "Oh phooey, they're joking. I'm actually only 64!" She smiled, with a slight glare towards Jocelyn who had nearly sprayed her drink across the table. "I'll ask the bartender." The server replied, with a tight lipped smile, before happily evicting himself from the stares of three old women. "Well I'll be damned-" "Language!" "-He is one very handsome slab of meat!" Samantha cooed, ignoring Genevíve's distress. "Girls, I was serious earlier…" Jocelyn began, taking a tentative sip from her drink. "I don't know if I'll manage these escapades much longer…shame overwhelms me every time my eyes so much as meet with those of the pastor…I feel as though he knows…I wish I had the courage to confess, but I'm even ashamed of doing that! I wish I were still catholic…" "Nonsense Josey! Utter nonsense! I won't hear any talk of church here tonight! I don't want the Lord to hear us and get distracted from those more in need in the slums. Then we'll surely be punished!" "Stop your pathetic excuses Samantha. Josey is right, this is a dangerous game we're playing here." "Dangerously fun. Girls, there is a difference. Mind you I may be the more adventurous spirit of our group, but I wont stand for any denial from you both. You like the events that transpire here as much as I do." "Perhaps we do, but at least we have the decency to feel a lick of shame for it. We don't exactly want our husbands leaving us at the drop of a hat over this as much as you do." "I am merely a victim of temptation. Oh heavenly father send me to the burning depths where I belong, as if it weren't you who first tainted me with these natural willings of the body and mind…" "I'd like to see you try and repent to the pastor with a verbal lashing like that, it's embarrassing Samantha. Absolutely shameful." "Hoohoo, you've known me 23 years Gene. By now you've surely gotten used to it. Ah- Waiter!" "Uncomfortably so," Genevíve remarked, as a new waiter strutted up to their table. Samantha's whims were once more easily impressed, as her eyes began to look him up and down as if he were unaware of her gaze. "So, you have a name honey?" "Yeah, I'mtooyoungforyou…the third." "Really? I think my father may have known your's!" She replied much too quickly, prompting Genevíve and Jocelyn to huddle close and strike up their own conversation in a vain attempt to make it appear as if they didn't know her. "Interesting. What can I get for you?" "Where'd the other one wander off to?" "His uh, shift ended. I'm the bartender so anything you like I'll be mixing myself." "Ooh! Then how about you mix us up an-" At this point, Genevíve's hearing aid had coincidentally shorted out for a brief moment. Though the look of disgust and mortification that tore across Jocelyn's face like snagged silk held enough knowing that Genevíve was grateful the Lord was still on her side, at least in this sense. "Cola it is. Anything else ladies?" The waiter/bartender asked patiently. "I'll take another orange juice. Put something light in it. Anything at this point. I need it." Genevíve sighed. "Cola, juice mix, okay. Anything else? Anything for you?" He nodded towards Jocelyn. Once she shook her head he was on his way behind the counter, leaving two tired old women and one teenage lady's-man in a 76 year old woman's body to sit and ponder about their options for the evening. "Regardless, I intend to at least stay for the show tonight. I suggest the same for you girls, as it might prompt your decision making to be a bit more rational." Samantha exhaled, wiping away the condensation stain beneath her glass with a napkin.