The Tailor’s Patchwork

Jude Michael Connors

Published by Libbaeus Publishing, LLC
Tucson, Arizona

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2012 by Jude Michael Connors
Cover design by Daniel Connors and Jude Michael Connors

ISBN 9780982465554

www.judespage.com

This book is dedicated in loving memory to my mother.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my father, my brothers and their wives; Darren, Jen, Bill, Katie, Chris, Pat, Julie, Dan and Larissa as well as Ellen Sanden, and John Urban. Without their help and input, this book would never have seen the light of day.

Chapter One

There was once a tiny tailor shop nestled in the bottom floor of a small building on the edge of downtown. The face of the decades old building had faded paint and exposed bricks which gave it a quaint, if not somewhat neglected look. The interior of the shop, with its meticulously polished wood and brass fixtures, seemed out of place when compared to the exterior. Whereas the outside was old and faded the inside of the tailor’s shop was very nearly pristine.

The tiny brass bell attached to the top of the doorframe chimed as it opened. Jason Lynch, the shop’s owner, turned, smiling his practiced smile at the man who entered his shop. “Good day, sir, my name is Jason. Welcome to my shop.”

The man stuck out his hand. “Rick,” he said as the two shook hands. “Rick Cunningham.”

“How may I help you, Mr. Cunningham?”

“Mr. Cunningham’s my dad. I’m Rick.”

Jason gave a chuckle at the joke, just as he did every time one of his customers said that same joke, which, as one might imagine, happened quite a bit. “All right, Rick, what can I do for you?”

The man handed Jason two slacks he had draped over his arm. “I need the cuffs brought up.”

The tailor took the pants, carefully folded them, and placed them on a counter before kneeling in front of Rick so that he might measure the customer’s inseam to get the correct length. As he stretched the measuring tape up the customer’s leg, Jason made idle chatter. “Did you see the game this weekend?”

“Oh, don’t get me started,” he said with a depth of bitterness that only sports fans could understand. “They should’ve pulled Reynolds. He was absolute crap.”

“What about those refs?”

“I’ve never seen such blatant favoritism.”

As the customer went on a tirade about the game and the officials and as Jason continued his measurements, the tailor would nod sympathetically and utter noises of agreement here and there in the pauses in Rick’s rant. Jason was not a sports fan in the slightest. He had difficultly knowing what sport was in season at any given time of the year much less how well or how poorly the local team was doing. What he did know was that if a fan was upset, they usually hated the referees. So if a customer voiced disgust, Jason always asked, “How about those refs?” with the knowledge the customer would believe Jason was just as upset as they were. It was just another way Jason earned the trust of his customers. By bringing up sports and agreeing with the customer’s opinion, he felt he made them comfortable.

Once the measurements were done, Jason stood and told Rick his slacks would be ready in fifteen minutes.

“Fifteen minutes?” he repeated in surprise. “The place I used to go to always said it would take a day.”

“I don’t know why that is,” returned Jason. Something as simple as raising the cuff of a pair of slacks was an easy task. If someone had the basic skill, they could do it in a flash. “I had another customer earlier today say the same thing.”

“I wonder if he went to the same place I went to,” commented the customer. “Was it Johnsons” Alterations on Fifth?”

“He didn’t mention,” said Jason. “If you like, you can wait here while I fix up your slacks or you can head over to one of the other shops close by. There’s a nice used record store and if you’re hungry, I’d recommend Mr. Moy’s next door; it’s the best Chinese in town.”

“Nah,” the man replied, “I’ll wait here.”

As Jason headed to his workbench behind the counter, he said, “I have this morning’s paper and a stack of magazines if you’re interested. They’re mostly men’s fashion, but I have a sports magazine from a few months back.”

The storeroom of Jason shop was tiny. So much so he was only able to store fabric in the small space and was forced to set up his work area in the main part of his shop, just behind the counter. This compromise did have an advantage; it gave Jason’s customers a chance to observe him at work. Instead of being locked away in a separate room, Jason did his work in clear view of any customer that was in the shop.

While he pinned the slack-cuffs to the proper length, he saw Rick examining the suits on display in the front window and along one of the shop’s walls. Scrutinizing the lapels on a silk jacket, the man asked, “How much does one of these cost?”

Threading the string through the needle of the sewing machine, Jason replied. He did not need to look up to see the customer’s eyes bulge in astonishment.

“That much?”

“Give or take a hundred,” said Jason. “It mostly depends on the material. That one’s silk, so it’s one of the most expensive suits to tailor.”

He made a low whistle. “If you charge that much for a suit, why aren’t you in a better location?”

Jason told him over the thrumming of the sewing machine, “Most of my customers aren’t interested in tailored suits.”

“You mean they can’t afford them.”

Jason chuckled softly and nodded his head. He had yet to make a name for himself and was relatively unknown and consequentially did not have many wealthy customers. He dreamed of making it big one day where he’d have more than just two regular customers who could afford the lofty prices of a custom tailored suit. Then he could afford the rent of a nicer shop in a better building. He could also move out of his and Alice’s small one-bedroom apartment and perhaps buy a house somewhere in the suburbs.

As Jason finished the second pair of slacks, Rick returned to looking at the suits. He asked, “Are they worth it?”

“Once you wear a custom tailored suit or shirt, you’ll never want to buy off the rack again.”

Rick chuckled. “If I hit the lottery tonight, I’ll come back and buy some from you.”

Jason folded the two slacks neatly and said, “Then I wish you luck for the both of us.”

After paying for the slacks, the man told Jason he’d return for any future alterations he’d need and left.

Something as simple as an alteration was a painfully easy task for Jason—one he could do effortlessly. Even though he could only charge his customers a few dollars for such a simple job, he welcomed it. It was business after all and Jason couldn’t afford to turn away any money. The man was not destitute, but with the rent for his shop, his apartment, utilities and food, Jason was left with only a little spending money each month.

An hour after Rick left, the bell attached to the door chimed as a woman stuck her head into the shop. “Do you do dry-cleaning?”

This was an all too common occurrence for Jason. At least twice a week, someone would enter his shop and ask the same question. Each time this happened Jason was sorely tempted to take these people by the hand, lead them out of the shop, point to the sign above the door and ask in the most patronizing way possible, “Is my sign not clear enough? Is there something printed there that I’ve missed which might hint that I perform services other than alterations and tailoring?” Despite this urge, Jason resisted mocking these people. Instead, he would give them his practiced smile, just as he did with everyone who entered his shop, and said, “No, ma’am, you can try Premium Cleaners on Fourth and Broadway.”

Later, after dusting the entire shop and reading a magazine on men’s fashions for the third time, the phone rang.

“Thank you for calling Lynch’s Tailoring and Alterations, this is Jason. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Jay, it’s me.”

“Oh, hi, Mom.” Jason’s voice softened, as it often did whenever he spoke to his mother. “How are you?”

“Just fine, honey,” she replied. “Your father’s out golfing with his buddies and I just got back from the store. How’s business?”

“It’s a little slow, but it could be worse.”

“Don’t forget next Tuesday is your father’s birthday.” Jason’s mother had the same commanding yet gentle tone all mothers possessed.

“I sent a card out this morning.” He knew what she was going to ask next. Much like her son, Jason’s mother was a creature of habit.

“When are you coming out to visit us?” She asked this same question every time she called. The woman would call once a week around the same time, make the same small talk, mention any important date coming up soon such as a birthday or anniversary and then ask when Jason would come visit his parents.

“Ah, I really can’t afford it right now.” It pained Jason. He had not seen his parents in years and truly missed them. Above and beyond not being able to buy the plane tickets necessary to travel, Jason could not bring himself to visit his mother and father. He knew that seeing them would only dredge up painful memories.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, honey,” his mother urged. The sorrow was evident in her voice. “If your father and I weren’t on a fixed income, then we’d go out there and visit you.”

Jason sighed and responded, “Maybe next year.” It was the same answer he gave her every time she called.

There was a moment of silence. Then his mother asked, “Have you seen anyone lately?”

“Mom,” he protested. Unlike her question of when Jason was going to take the time to visit his parents, his mother only asked questions about his love life once in a while.

“Honey, Alice passed a long time ago,” she argued. “It’s not healthy to dwell on the past so much.”

“I’m fine, Mom, I swear. I just haven’t found anyone I’m interested in.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Jason could hear the worry and compassion in his mother’s words. “Are you sure you’re not still feeling... guilty about it?”

“No, Mom, I’m not feeling guilty.” This couldn’t be further from the truth. The fact of the matter was that Jason always felt guilty. It was there, constantly hanging like a weight in the back of his mind.

“Jay, I worry about you.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she pressed. Like all parents, she was concerned for her son, worried that he was lonely and suffering.

“I am happy.”

“Alright,” she said, giving up the discussion for a few weeks or so when she would bring it up again. “I’ll talk to you later, honey.”

“Bye, Mom, I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With that, Jason hung up the phone. His mother’s calls always brought up mixed emotions for the man. He loved hearing from her, but conversely, he felt guilty. Jason felt guilty for not seeing her or his father in years and guilty for hiding the truth from his parents.

At six o’clock, Jason closed the shop and exited through the rear entrance of the building to where his car was parked. The driver door of his battered twenty year old car creaked and groaned in agony as he opened it. The springs in the seat made almost as much noise as the door when Jason sat down. He had to twist the key in the ignition three full times before the engine finally started. With the fan-belt of the car screeching like a banshee, he drove the three miles to his apartment. After parking in his designated spot, Jason turned the ignition to off and the engine rattled and shuttered violently for a full ten seconds before finally shutting off.

Along with junk mail and various bills that littered every mailbox, Jason found a note from the postal carrier stating they left a package outside his apartment door. Marching up the stairs, Jason wondered what it was. He didn’t order anything and Alice didn’t mention anything about buying something either.

As he continued up the stairs, he passed Mrs. Washington, a kind old woman who lived two doors down from the young man. “How is your lady, Jason?” she asked after greeting him pleasantly.

“Oh, Alice is fine,” he said, flashing the same practiced smile he gave his customers.

“I saw a doctor on Oprah today who works wonders with burn victims. He does a lot of charity work,” she said with her ever-present compassion. “I wrote his name down for you. Maybe you can contact him and he can help your lady.”

Jason politely took the offered paper with the plastic surgeon’s name. “Thank you, Mrs. Washington. I’ll talk with Alice right away.”

The package left by the postal carrier was leaning against his door, as promised. It was an oblong cardboard box. The return address said it was from a company called Ishtar Terra Enterprises. He tucked the box under his arm and knocked gently on the door three times. After a second, he knocked again twice before pushing his key into the lock and turning it.

Normally, one doesn’t knock on their own door, especially if they had keys to unlock it like Jason had. But an occurrence some years before when the building’s superintendent entered the apartment unannounced while Jason was at work almost led to an uncomfortable and dangerous situation. The super, who was checking on a leaking toilet Jason had complained about, entered the apartment and nearly stumbled upon Alice who was not wearing her disguise. Luckily, Alice was able to hide in the bedroom closet before the super saw her. In order to avoid repeating the potentially disastrous situation, Jason and Alice devised a code. If Alice heard the lock turn without the series of knocks she and Jason agreed upon, she would promptly hide in order to avoid a complicated explanation to whoever entered the apartment.

After closing the door, Jason was greeted by Alice with a warm hug. She tilted her head, as if to ask, “How was your day.”

“It was a little slow, only two customers.” Jason held up the package. “What’s this?”

If Alice could smile, Jason imagined that it would’ve split her face in two. She clapped her hands noiselessly in excitement before plucking the box from his hands. She hopped toward the small kitchen to fetch a knife to cut through the tape.

Jason retrieved the note from Mrs. Washington out of his pocket. He crumpled it and threw it into the trash. The plastic surgeon would be of no help to Jason or Alice, for Alice was not severely burned as he told everyone.

“Was it expensive?” asked Jason while Alice pulled a smaller box out of the package.

Alice shook her head in the negative. She then pointed to the couch in the living room, silently telling Jason that he should sit. Jason walked into the living room, stepping past the bookshelf that acted as the divider between the dining and living rooms and sat on the couch as requested.

As Alice continued to prepare whatever she had bought in the kitchen, Jason looked around the room. Instead of pictures or artwork hanging from the walls, there were framed quilts, comforters and various swatches of fabrics ranging from silk to flannel hung on the walls. Jason’s eyes fixed on a large swath of satin that hung on the wall behind the television. Letting the sight wash over him, Jason’s muscles relaxed and he took a long, deep breath. The stress that had built up over the day ebbed away as he stared at the fabric.

He heard the snap of latex as Alice pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. Alice turned, holding whatever was in the box behind her back. She had an impish and mischievous air about her as she walked to join Jason. Instead of sitting next to Jason on the couch, Alice knelt before him. Before he could ask what she was planning, Alice presented the item to him. In Alice’s gloved hands was a long, grey plastic tube. Slowly, she began to tilt the object and Alice’s naughty mood began to grow. Her shoulders shook slightly, as if she was giggling without a sound as she showed Jason the business end of the device. It appeared to be made out of some sort of pink rubber and had a rather lewd opening.

Jason couldn’t help but to laugh. As Alice set the object down and unbuckled his belt and pants, he smiled. It wasn’t his practiced smile he gave his customers. This was a goofy expression that showed a little too much gum and slanted up to the left. It was his true and sincere smile. And the only person he ever shared it with was Alice; the woman he loved.

Chapter Two

Alice was bored. The walls of the apartment bored her as did the books and movies stored in the bookshelf. The sex-toy that arrived the day before had broken the monotony for only a short while. After they finished using the toy, Alice showed Jason the website from where she bought it. When she showed him that there were many different inserts for the toy—ranging from multiple types of orifices to replicas of porn stars—the two laughed uproariously at the absurdity of it. Well, Jason laughed and Alice would’ve if she were able. Afterward, the couple went to bed. As she often did, Alice laid next to Jason as he drifted to sleep. She ran her fingers through his short brown hair, lulling him into slumber. He began to snore softly within a few minutes. And that was when the boredom began to set in. Alice did not sleep—she no longer could. That gave her an overabundance of time.

After rereading a novel she had already read four times, Alice surfed the internet, trawling message boards and blog sites looking for anything of interest. Usually, she looked for any comments on new books or movies that might entertain her. Sometimes, she would follow random links; bouncing from one website to another if the mood suited her. It was in one of these sessions of random web surfing that Alice found the sex-toy. But this night’s web browsing proved fruitless. She found nothing to hold her interest.

Around six in the morning, she began to make Jason his breakfast; two scrambled eggs, toast with preserves and a glass of orange juice. One of the positive side effects of her condition was that she didn’t eat so the couple saved money on food bills. Of course, that in and of itself was also a negative side effect for Alice could no longer taste delicious food. It was one of the many things she missed. She longed to experience the flavor of food, any food really. She missed the sensation of flavors dancing along her tongue. To feel the warmth of a hot meal heat her mouth as she chewed. But that was not meant to be.

Once Jason left for the shop, Alice began pacing out of boredom. She browsed through her collection of books, music and movies, trying to find something to entertain her or at the very least distract her from her tedium. After twenty minutes, Alice gave up and decided to go shopping.

It was risky venturing outside the safety of the apartment but Alice was going stir crazy. She needed to go out. Even if it was just a short trip to the local used bookstore to pick up a book or two. Alice had to leave the apartment. It was driving her crazy.

She began by donning her cheap rubber mask of Marilyn Monroe. Next, she pulled on a long blonde wig. Then Alice wrapped a silk shawl around the fake face, just under the cutout for the eyes. Alice wore the mask simply to give herself the appearance of having features such as a nose and chin. It also helped hold the oversize, dark sunglasses in place. A long sleeved blouse, slacks and gloves were next. The ensemble was finished by a full length wool coat. The coat not only helped cover Alice, but the weight of the heavy garment ensured that if the weather suddenly changed and became windy while she was out, she would not have to deal with an awkward, if not shocking, situation. Alice examined herself carefully in a full-length mirror. She had to ensure that nothing showed through her disguise.

Grabbing her purse and several books she was particularly bored with, Alice left the apartment.

The bus was fairly empty, thankfully. Alice hated being in a crowded bus. Not because she was claustrophobic or didn’t like crowds. It was the fact that no one looked at her. She knew people were raised to believe it was impolite to stare at people with disabilities or disfigurements and Alice appeared to be the victim of severe burns. This is what bothered her about crowded buses. It was some sort of cultural taboo to look at a person like Alice even for a moment because it might be interpreted as staring. Consequently, no one dare even looking in Alice’s direction least a brief glance in her direction might be considered staring. Their intention of not making her feel awkward by looking at her had the opposite effect and made her truly uncomfortable. By their actions, full of good intention, people did not even acknowledge she was there among them. It was as if she were invisible. For Alice, the act of ignoring her completely was more hurtful than if people were to openly point and stare.

After a half hour, Alice reached her destination. She climbed off the bus, giving the driver a polite wave, and walked the half block to the used book store.

“Can I help you?” The girl behind the counter in the store was clearly taken back by Alice’s appearance judging by the way her lip curled when she spoke. Alice assumed the girl was concerned that the reason she covered her face with a scarf was that she was sick and contagious.

Drawn by the girl’s question, Tom, one of the shop’s managers, walked out from the rows of books in the back of the store. “Alice, so glad to see you!” he greeted earnestly. The fat man with the rapidly receding hairline gave Alice a brief, friendly hug. “We haven’t seen you in about a month or so? How are you?”

His question was answered with a thumb up signal.

“Great. Do you have any books to trade?”

Alice pulled the books from her purse and handed them to him. He examined them by checking the bindings and flipping through the pages to look for any damages. “I think we can give you three dollars in trade for each one.”

Alice nodded her head, accepting the offer.

Before heading over to the counter, Tom said, “Oh, I just remembered; we’ve been hanging onto two books that you might be interested in.”

The man escorted Alice to the counter. “Alice, this is Etta, our newest employee,” he said, introducing the girl standing next to the cash register. “Etta, this is Alice; one of our best customers.”

“Hi,” said Etta. Alice returned the greeting with a small wave of her hand.

“Here are the books I was telling you about.” Tom bent down and placed two books on the counter in front of Alice. The first one was a novel written by Alice’s favorite techno-thriller author and the second was a biography about Teddy Roosevelt’s time in the Spanish-American War. Alice nodded her head, indicating she would take both books.

“Will this be all for you or are you going to shop some more?” asked Tom.

Alice pointed to the shelves of books.

“Great, If you need any help, just find Etta or me.”

Alice picked up a hand basket and ventured into the stacks and rows of books. She moved from one section to another, grabbing any book that looked even remotely interesting.

As Alice moved from the Suspense to Horror sections, she caught a glimpse of Tom conversing with Etta in hushed and whispered tones. Obviously the two were discussing Alice. He was probably telling Etta that Alice was a mute burn victim. Alice assumed Tom also told the girl of the first time she entered the store years before and how she had first communicated by writing short notes on a pocket-notepad. Alice felt annoyance at this interchange. Curiously, this sensation originated in her right hand and not her head, heart or stomach as this particular feeling sometimes arise in most people. She always had this sensation in her hand whenever anyone talked about her behind her back.

In a short while, the basket was filled with close to a dozen books. They ranged from science fiction, to romance, suspense, trial dramas to biographies. After paying for the books with cash, Alice decided to pick up some new music. She had a twenty dollar bill left over and since the used record store was close to Jason’s shop, she could stop in and say hello.

***

On the second Tuesday of every month, Jason made it a habit to reapply the polish to all the wood in his shop. It was just one of the many things he did to make the appearance of his shop the best it could be. With his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows and rubber gloves protecting his hands, Jason worked the creamy liquid into the wood panels. Once every surface was coated, the tailor got a clean towel and buffed the wood until it shined.

Jason would argue that he did not suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, as a few people have said about the pudgy man. He would describe himself as nothing more than a “neat freak”—someone who liked things to be clean and orderly. Of course, Jason was being generous to himself in this description. If a speck of dust were to lay on a surface for more than a day, then Jason felt he was not keeping up the appearance of the shop and was not doing his job properly. The fabric swatches that hung from rods were rehung at the beginning of each day with the aid of a bubble level to insure they were perfectly even with one another.

Jason’s “neat freak” attitude was encouraged by his former employer and the man who he bought the shop from years before. As he often said while Lynch apprenticed for him: “If we can’t keep our appearance tip-top, then our customers will doubt our skill in suit making.”

This motto of keeping everything looking the best it could extended beyond the appearance of his shop. Jason had adapted the saying to his own appearance as well. His suits, which he made himself, were crease and wrinkle free at all times. There was never a day where he forgot to shave so he never had any stubble on his chin. It was a ritual of his to get a haircut at a nearby barber every other Wednesday so that his hair was never too long. Every part of his appearance was constructed to further the notion he was polished and professional, even his smile.

Out of all the things Jason did to make his shop and appearance as pristine and professional as possible, his smile took the most time to master. When he first started as a tailor, Jason could not fake a smile. Generally, he could only smile when he was happy and ever since he dropped out of college, only one person could make him smile. At best, he could force the corners of his mouth to curl up, giving the impression that he was in pain rather than trying to be pleasant. Mr. Berlusconi, Jason’s former mentor, would often criticize his apprentice’s inability to smile in a playful manner. He would prod Jason by saying, “When you don’t smile, you look like a mortician for pity’s sake. You’re measuring a customer for a suit, not a coffin! Smile a little!”

Under his employer’s urging, Jason practiced his smile night after night in front of a mirror at his apartment. His first attempts gave his expression a smug, condescending look. This would not do at all. He needed to look friendly and approachable, not pompous. The next attempt made him appear sad and pathetic. On more than one attempt, Jason’s expression gave the impression that he might have been constipated. On and on it went, one failed attempt after another. One night, Alice tried to help him, offering a suggestion that he think of her seeing that she was the only person Jason smiled for genuinely. But he dismissed this notion out of hand; it felt wrong for Jason to think of the woman he loved simply to show a customer a nice smile. It was cheap and petty to treat his emotions in such a way. Finally, Jason mastered the smile after days and days of practice. It was warm and inviting, but not too informal and showed the proper level of professionalism. It showed any customer he was friendly and trustworthy and that he was confident in his ability as a tailor.

Jason gave this practiced smiled to every single one of his customers. Whether they were one of his few prized patrons who could afford a tailored suit, or the ones who came in for alterations, Jason always made sure to flash them his smile.

Just as he was about to finish polishing, Jason happened to see Grace, one of the few people he considered a friend, walking to his door. Popping her head in the shop, she asked, “Are you busy?”

“Hardly,” replied Jason. “Come on in.”

With her boots, which were two sizes too big for her feet, shuffling along the floor, Grace entered the shop. Normally, she had a grin that accentuated her rounded cheeks and a happy bounce to her step. But today, her lips were curled down in a sad frown and her feet dragged.

Jason knew Grace well enough to know he couldn’t ask her directly what was causing her sour mood. She was the type of person one had to approach the subject subtly.

“Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in the shop. As Grace sat, Jason tossed the rag he used to polish into a bag to be washed later. He joined Grace in the chair next to her and asked, “How’s work?”

“Boring,” she said. “We’ve only had two customers all day.”

“I wish I was that busy. You’re the first person to walk through my door today.”

Tedium was not Grace’s problem, nor was her mood born from concern over the lack of business. Grace only took up the job at the used record store while she went back to school. She discovered shortly after graduating from college that a bachelor’s degree in philosophy with a minor in women’s studies did not endear her to businesses looking to hire.

“Who’s watching the store while you’re here?” asked Jason.

“John is,” she replied, naming one of the store’s part-time employees. “I decided to take my lunch break early.”

After a moment of silence where Grace ran her fingers over the hemlines of one of the display suits, Jason recalled his last conversation with the woman. She had mentioned something about meeting a man who came into the record store and how they talked for a bit. “Whatever happened with that one guy you met?”

Grace turned to Jason and glared at him. The icy look in her eye told Jason he had successfully found the root of Grace’s problem on his first attempt. She answered in a flat, emotionless tone, “We had a date last night.”

“I take it wasn’t a good one.”

“On a scale from one to ten—one being ‘He insisted we had to go to my place if we were going to screw because he still lives with his parents and he’d be embarrassed bringing a girl home’ and ten being ‘Oh my God, I want to bear his children so badly that I’m actually ovulating spontaneously’ —this date ranked a negative twelve.”

Jason said compassionately, “That bad, huh?”

“Let me tell you how bad.” Now that Jason had coaxed the subject out of Grace, the floodgates opened and she was more than willing to share her pain with him in great detail. “He took me to Leonardo’s; it’s a neat little Italian place near Broadway. As I’m telling him how I’m going back to school because a bachelor degree in philosophy didn’t open doors to the lucrative careers as I thought it would’ve,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “I noticed he wasn’t paying attention to me. He nodded his head and said ‘Yeah’ here and there, but he hardly ever made eye contact with me. He was also looking around at other tables and reading his menu a lot. I was thinking he’s a little self-centered. But I was willing to give him a chance.

“So I asked him to tell me about himself,” she continued. “He started talking and it was obvious right off the bat he was being way too vague. He didn’t give me any real details; he works at a bank uptown but didn’t say which one. He lives in an apartment but didn’t even hint where it is.

“That’s when I noticed his left ring-finger.” Grace pointed to the base of her own finger for emphasis and proclaimed, “There was a tan line where a ring used to be.”

Jason’s eyes widened in surprise as he asked, “You didn’t notice this when you met him in the store?”

The corners of her lips deepened into a frown. “Normally that’s the first thing I do when I meet a guy. I feel like an idiot that I didn’t see it before. But there it was, in the flickering candlelight.

“I was looking at the tan line and thinking to myself ‘knowing my luck, this guy isn’t a recent divorcé.’ So I asked him straight out ‘You’re married, aren’t you?’

“The guy goes like this,” Grace demonstrated her date’s response by making a long, drawn-out “Oh” sound. Jason felt a pang of sympathy.

“I was shocked,” she admitted. “I just found out I was on a date with a married man! I was deep in home-wrecking territory!”

“Did you leave?”

“No, it actually got worse!”

“How?” Jason had trouble contemplating how Grace’s date could have gone downhill from the revelation that her date was married.

“He started to explain and defend his actions,” she continued with her frown still etched on her face. “He admitted that not only is he married, but his wife’s pregnant.”

“Oh,” said Jason.

“And not only is she pregnant, it’s a complicated one and her doctor’s ordered bed-rest for the last three months,” she added with dread. “So the guy tells me because of this, he hasn’t had sex in months. He admitted the only reason why he asked me out was he was hoping it would be a one-night stand so that he could relieve the tension that’s been building up in his balls.”

“Calling that a bad date is an understatement.” Even Jason who had only dated one woman and had very little experience when it came to dating was floored by that revelation. “I hope you told him off.”

“Well, not in so many words,” she said. “I tossed my drink in his face and stormed out. Needless to say I cried for a solid three hours afterwards.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jason. He didn’t know whether to pat her on the back or give her a hug. Such signs of physical comfort made him uncomfortable.

“I have the worst luck when it comes to guys,” she said. “I’ve been cheated on. I’ve been dumped on Valentine’s Day... twice. And now I’ve been on a date with a man who was secretly married! I just find the worst ones!”

“You’ve got to date nicer guys,” Jason said, offering the obvious.

“I spend all of my time at work or in school. Only creeps come into the store and the guys at school are either too young or too old. They’re just out of high school or middle aged men trying to get an education for a better job. And I’d feel creepy dating any of them.”

Jason shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t the best person to give advice on love. The only person he had ever been with was Alice.

“Enough about my love life, it’s too damn depressing. I need a pick-me up; tell me about your love life?” she asked.

“I’m in a relationship, what’s there to talk about?”

“Sex for one thing. I haven’t gotten laid in months. Even boring ‘in a committed relationship sex’ would interest me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean ‘committed relationship sex”?”

Grace chuckled. “You can tell you’ve only been with one girl.”

She sat up in her chair and lectured, “When you’re first going out with someone, you try your best to impress them. You’re always holding in your stomach and perhaps even flexing. You continue this when you and that someone become intimate. You’re still trying to impress them, this time with your sexual prowess! You’re adventurous in the sack, willing and eager to try new things. You’re giving it your all and you’re at the top of your game!

“But when you and this someone grow more accustomed to one another, you get less adventurous over time,” she continued her lesson. “You know; the two of you are comfortable with each other and there’s no longer a need to impress your partner anymore. You’re not as daring as you were before. It’s no longer ‘what new position can we try?” or ‘hey, let’s use a sex-toy!’”

The mention of a toy brought the previous night’s intimacy to the forefront of Jason’s mind. The image of Alice kneeling before Jason as she worked the toy up and down on him caused a blush to develop on his cheeks.

Unfortunately, Grace noticed this reaction and deduced the cause of his embarrassment. “You used a toy! Oh my God! You and Alice used a sex-toy!”

“No we didn’t!” Jason denied and his blush deepened.

“You’re a horrible liar,” she said, teasingly. Her frown disappeared, replaced by her cute grin. She leaned toward Jason and urged, “Tell me all about it! Was it a dildo? Was it a pocket pussy? A vibrating cock-ring? Did you use it on her or did she use it on you?”

Jason looked away and denied, “There was no toy!”

The more he protested, the more vividly his memory played in his mind, which in turn caused further embarrassment. Admittedly, the sex-toy Alice bought was an exciting change. Normally, she would simply rub him with her gloved hands. But the toy was a new, adventurous thing for Jason and Alice.

Grace smiled impishly at him as he squirmed in his seat for a good long moment. Finally, she said, “It’s too bad Alice can’t talk. I could get her to spill the beans.”

Grace slapped her hands on her thighs and stood, “Well, I’m hungry. You want anything from Mr. Moy’s? My treat.”

“Sure, the usual.”

“You’ve got to be the most boring individual in the whole world,” she said with another giggle. “We work next to a fantastic Chinese restaurant that offers dozens of different meals and you always get orange chicken.”

“I like orange chicken,” he defended.

“Live a little, Jason.” Grace placed her fists on her hips and leaned in close to his face. “Try a little General Tso’s or sweet and sour pork.”

“Maybe next time.”

“You always say that,” she said with a wink.

“I suppose I’m sort of set in my ways.”

“Yeah, but that’s why I like you so much,” she said turning to the door, “you’re dependable.”

Left alone in his shop once more, Jason mused over Grace. Generally, Jason felt uneasy around people. He used his professionalism to hide his inherent awkward and shy nature. But out of the confines of business, his unease blossomed. He feared he would say the wrong thing at the wrong moment and believed that he could not relate to them because he always felt odd and out of place. This feeling of awkwardness was only exacerbated around women. Whenever he talked to a woman in a social setting, he would hem and haw and stutter. Jason reasoned he acted this way around women because he was, on many levels, intimidated by them.

Grace was one of the few people that Jason could talk to in a somewhat easy fashion. He believed this was due to the fact that Grace reminded him of Alice, the only person he was ever able to connect with fully.

This similarity was not physical. Alice was tall and willow thin whereas Grace was short with a pleasing roundness to her figure. Before the accident, Alice had long brown hair and Grace kept her dyed red hair in a short bob cut. Alice used to have full lips and a wide smile with a pout to them while the corners of Grace’s curled up in a nearly ever present grin.

The reason why Grace reminded Jason of his girlfriend was the energy she possessed. Grace was a compassionate person; willing to be honest and open with everyone. Of course this left her vulnerable to men who would use her. Jason recalled the numerous times Grace complained about her pervious boyfriends and how they hurt or betrayed her.

Even though both Alice and Grace were similar in regards to their openness and compassion, Alice did not share the latter’s vulnerability. Alice had a fervent attitude that Grace seemed to lack. If someone were to offend Alice, or even Jason, she would retaliate. Once, while in high school and before Jason and Alice became a couple and the two were still in a platonic relationship, one of their peers called Jason a freak and a loser. Alice immediately jumped to his defense, hurling insults at the other boy. Her jibes covered everything from the boy’s mother and her promiscuity to questioning the boy’s manhood. Another time, one of Alice’s friends played a practical joke on her—her friend made Alice believe the quarterback had sent her a love letter. When Alice approached the quarterback and found out it was a joke, she had been devastated. She had wept on Jason’s shoulder over the humiliation the whole night. The next week, Alice retaliated against her friend by taping pages of the girl’s personal diary all over the school, allowing everyone to read her innermost thoughts, fears and desires. Even though this act of revenge cost Alice her friendship with the girl, she never regretted her actions.

This fiery passion that drove Alice to deal out sometimes harsh revenge permeated all aspects of her life. She would often charge ahead with gusto in everything she did. Never once did she hold back an opinion or idea. Even now, after the accident, Alice forged ahead overcoming the many obstacles that ruled her life. Jason was envious of this attitude. He, unlike Alice, guarded his emotions and always held back. He always took the safe path while Alice gladly pushed boundaries.

Jason thought it may have been his imagination, but he often got the impression that Grace flirted with him. This confused the man to an extent. Not only was he in a committed relationship with Alice, Jason didn’t think anyone would flirt with him. He had neatly trimmed brown hair, a small nose and thin lips. He was somewhat short and had a pouch to his belly. He was far from what he thought the definition of handsome was and didn’t think of himself as someone desirable. This train of thought would always lead him to wonder what Alice saw in him and he would always conclude that he was just lucky and the pair had connected on an emotional level, one where she could look past his imperfections.

A few minutes after she left, Grace returned with a bag filled with take-away boxes. As she set the boxes on the counter, the woman playfully chided; “I was so about to order you Yu-Shan pork instead of orange chicken. But I decided against it and got you your usual.”

The bell above the door chimed. Jason’s practiced and professional smile wavered, replaced by his honest one as he saw Alice stroll in, covered head to toe in her disguise. “Hi, Alice,” he said. He stood and moved to his girlfriend, giving her a long hug.

“Hi-ya, Alice,” echoed Grace. “Jason and I were just about to eat some lunch. If you want you can have some of mine.”

Alice shook her head slightly and patted her belly.

“She just ate,” Jason translated his lover’s gesture.

“So, I heard you and Jason bought a sex-toy,” said Grace.

Slowly, Alice turned to face Jason. Her head cocked to the side. She wasn’t embarrassed at the notion Grace had learned of their intimacy, but she was surprised that Jason had opened up about it.

“I didn’t say a thing,” he defended.

“No, but his blush gave everything away,” Grace interjected. “Well, not everything. I just know it was a toy.”

Alice held out her hand toward Grace, silently urging Jason to reveal all of the facts, playfully teasing her boyfriend.

“No,” Jason said, fighting the blush that threatened to return. The thought of his girlfriend encouraging him to tell their friend about the toy was far too embarrassing. “No.”

Setting her shopping bags on the ground, Alice trotted to Grace and began playing a rather rude game of charades. For a few minutes, Grace shouted out guesses ranging from cock-rings, to extenders, to dildos. With each passing second and guess, Jason’s face heated up more and more. Shortly before Grace had to return to work, she was laughing hysterically over the man’s glowing face.

Once alone, Alice patted Jason on the hand, telling him without words she would make up for her teasing him when they got back to their apartment.

Chapter Three

The next week found business particularly slow for Jason. For four consecutive days, no one even entered the shop, save for Alice stopping by to visit. It was so bad that Jason feared he would have trouble meeting that month’s bills.

As Jason opened the shop the following Monday, he worried that business was entering a downward slope. From the time he flipped the sign in the window from “closed” to “open” at eight in the morning until two in the afternoon, not a single customer came into the tailor’s shop.

Then, as if someone answered his prayers, Robert Kowalski called Jason and asked to set up an appointment for a new suit. Jason hoped he did not sound too desperate for business when he informed Kowalski he could come into the shop that very hour if he liked.

Robert Kowalski was one of the two customers Jason had that could afford the high prices for a custom tailored suit. The customer would only use Jason’s services three or four times a year, but his visits and business were always welcomed. And seeing how Jason was in a financial strain, Robert couldn’t have picked a better time for a new suit as far as he was concerned.

For the next hour, Jason tidied up his shop to make sure everything was perfect for his best customer.

Finally Robert entered the shop. Jason’s practiced smile almost faded at the sight of the man. It was obvious that he had lost a great amount of weight in the previous few months since his last visit to the shop. Robert’s suit, which Jason made during the customer’s previous visit, was now far too large and it hung off his thin frame. He was a shadow of his former self.

For a moment, Jason was going to make a playful jibe at Robert’s weight loss. He was about to say something along the line of, “I see you left our little club,” and then he was going to pat his own round belly, joking that up until recently both men were on the heavy side. But when Jason looked into Robert’s eyes and saw they were rimmed with heavy, dark circles, he knew something was amiss and decided against such a light comment. “Good afternoon, Robert. How are you?”

“Hello, Jason,” the man returned with a polite smile. “I’m fine, how are you?”

Robert’s voice was as jovial as it normally was, but the look in his eyes, Jason noted, contained a deep sadness.

Shrugging his shoulders to readjust his now ill-fitted jacket, Robert stated, “I’m going out of town on a business meeting next week and it looks like I need a new suit. I know it’s short notice, but could you make one for me?”

“For you, Robert, it won’t be a problem at all. You’re my best customer, after all.” Sincere as the comment might have been, Jason knew he was laying the professional charm on a little thick. But he hated to see the pain in Robert’s eyes and hoped his comment would improve the man’s mood a bit.

Jason led the man to a spot before the tall mirrors that lined the left side of his shop. Robert handed the tailor his jacket to be set on a nearby hook.

As Jason began measuring his customer, he did not rely upon his tactic of initiating small talk. Robert seemed distracted and highly concerned and Jason believed he would be uninterested in such petty conversation.

It was a habit of Jason not to intrude too much on his customers. Jason held the belief that a person’s private matters were just that; private. He didn’t do this just to avoid asking questions and becoming too familiar with them, but Jason was also concerned that if he were to ask someone personal questions, the act would invite them to ask personal questions in return. And that would create an awkward situation. They would ask him questions dealing with his life, such as if he were married or not. Then Jason would have to tell them about Alice, his lover and girlfriend. Then they might ask to see a picture of her. Then they would ask him why he didn’t have a picture of his lover. Then he’d have to tell them the lie about the fire and the lie that Alice now hated pictures because of the scars that were supposed to cover her face and body but did not. The mere concept of such questions made Jason nervous. He preferred the anonymity and safety that his professional facade provided and feared the notion of his customers finding out too much about his life.

Seeing the sad and despondent look in Robert’s eyes, Jason couldn’t help but to break his own rules about personal questions. “Is everything all right, Robert?”

“It’s been a rough couple of months, Jay. My daughter, Sarah, was in a car accident.”

Jason felt a pang of sympathy. “Is she okay?”

The man let out a long breath. It was clear Robert was deeply troubled and was just waiting for someone to listen to his sorrows. “Physically she wasn’t too badly hurt; just a fractured tibia. But mentally”

There was a long, silent pause. Jason waited patiently for his customer to continue.

“She was in the car with three of her friends. On the way home from a movie, a drunk driver t-boned them. Sarah was the only one who made it.”

Tears glistened in Robert’s eyes. “The psychiatrists call it ‘severe survivor’s guilt.’” There was venom to his voice and it was evident by the man’s harsh tone he had a low opinion of psychiatrists. “Sarah’s been to dozens of them over the last few months and none of them have been able to help. Not even a little.”

“I take it it’s bad?” Jason regretted the question the moment he said it. Judging by Robert’s haggard appearance and expression, he realized asking if the situation was ‘bad” was painfully stupid understatement.

“She doesn’t think she deserves...to... live.” Each word was a struggle for Robert. “Sarah has admitted she’s had thoughts of…” He sighed and concluded, “… she wants to die. My seventeen year old girl wants to kill herself.”

Tears flowed freely down Robert’s face. The situation was distressing for Jason. He truly felt for Robert and his pain. But Jason did not know how to comfort the older man. Should he put his hand on the man’s shoulder? Should he attempt to say something supportive? But what could he say? How could he even relate to Robert’s ordeal?

“The best the psychiatrists have been able to do is give her prescriptions,” the devastated man added. “The pills are horrible. Sarah walks around in a drug-induced haze all day long. I saw her this morning drooling all over herself.” Robert sniffed back a tear and said, “Even though the drugs are terrible, we’re all afraid if she doesn’t take them, she might do something awful to herself.”

Jason hung his head and admitted, “I’m sorry, Robert. I wish I could help.”

The man smiled wanly and patted him on the back. “Believe it or not, you have helped me, Jason.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Just talking about it alleviates some of the stress.”

Jason finished measuring Robert in an awkward silence. Instead of thinking of Robert and the agony he and his family were enduring, Jason focused his attention on the mundane task of wrapping the measuring tape around his customer’s arms, chest, waist and legs.

When he was done, Jason told Robert that his suit would be ready by Friday. “Would you like me to deliver the suit to your house? I’ve got your address on file.”

“That won’t be necessary, Jason,” replied Robert. “I’ll stop by on Friday to pick it up.”

After Robert left, Jason could not help but to dwell on the man and his daughter. Jason had an inkling of what it was like for a family to lose a child. He witnessed it firsthand in college with Alice’s parents. The thought of what had happened years before weighed heavily on his heart and mind. The familiar guilt that accompanied that tragic memory raged up inside of Jason.

Thinking of Alice, Jason came upon an idea. When Robert told him of his daughter’s predicament, Jason had wished he could do something to help the girl. His heart raced as he came to realize he could do something to help her. And in the process of helping Robert’s daughter, perhaps he could ease some of his own guilt as well.

Jason rushed to the front door, twisted the deadbolt to lock the door and flipped the open sign to “closed” even though it was hours before he regularly closed. This was unheard of for Jason—a man who stubbornly clung to his set routines.

He raced back to his apartment as fast as his beater of a car could take him. Jason rushed up the stairs and barged into his apartment without knocking. This surprised Alice, who had been standing in the kitchen when the lock turned in the door. Thinking it was the super coming in unannounced again, Alice dropped to the floor. She wasn’t wearing her mask and disguise and the super would receive quite a shock if he saw her standing in front of him in the kitchen. It would be bad enough if the super saw Alice lying on the floor—he’d wonder why Jason would have such a thing lying about the apartment—but seeing her standing or even moving about would be a severe problem.

Seeing his lover crumpled on the floor, Jason quickly apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t knock.” He helped her to her feet and said, “I forgot to knock in all the excitement.”

As she stood, Alice tilted her head. Answering her unspoken question, Jason told her of Robert Kowalski and his daughter. Alice hung her head low, feeling pity for the Kowalski family. Once he was finished telling Alice what he had learned, Jason took a long, steadying breath and announced, “I think I should do it.”

Without a word or sound, Alice asked a question.

“I can help her by using my skill,” he said it knowingly—as if the word skill had some secret meaning only the two lovers knew. “I can help her. I can save her life.”

Again, Alice asked a question without uttering a sound.

“Because... because I should. Because I can. But mostly I can make up for what I did to you and your family.”

Jason could see Alice was conflicted. She understood his desire to help Sarah Kowalski as a way to make up for what he had done years before. She also sympathized with her boyfriend. After all, it was Alice’s idea to play the practical joke and she had been the one to convince Jason to use his skill which led to the accident. But she was truly frightened that if he were to proceed with his plan to help the girl, he could open himself up to a world of trouble. If Jason told Kowalski what he could do, so many things could go wrong. The best outcome as far as Alice was concerned was that Kowalski would think Jason was insane and that his unstable mind concocted a bizarre fantasy where the tailor could use his unreal skill to help the man’s troubled daughter. The worst outcome that Alice imagined chilled her to her core. In this scenario, Kowalski would believe Jason. She was terrified that Kowalski could tell Jason’s secret to the world. If this was to happen, Alice was certain the government or some clandestine organization would drag her and Jason away to perform experiments, perhaps even killing them to perform autopsies in order to find how the two of them worked. The woman was so fearful of this potential outcome that her hands shook. The thing that frightened Alice the most was not the thought of what would happened to her—she didn’t feel pain—but what would happen to Jason. The thought of the suffering he would endure was too much for her.

Even though she could not say a word, Jason could see her emotions playing out inside her. He knew she was frightened and apprehensive. He reached out and took his lover’s trembling hands in his. “Don’t worry. It will be okay.”

She removed one hand from his gentle grip and gestured to her mouth.

“He won’t talk. I’ll make him promise,” he answered. “Besides, even if Robert does talk, who’d believe him? Remember when I told you what I could do? We were so young we still believed in magic, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. And you still didn’t believe me. You thought I was teasing you and called me a ‘strange little boy,’ remember?”

She nodded her head.

“Don’t worry, everything will work out,” he reassured.

Even though Jason was confident, doubt and fear still lingered in Alice.

***

The following Thursday, after the tailor closed his shop for the evening, Jason climbed into his battered car with Robert’s new suit hanging from a hook in the rear seat. Even though Robert said he did not want the suit delivered, Jason decided to go against his customer’s wishes. He needed to talk to Robert. With his engine rattling, Jason drove out of the city to his customer’s house in the suburbs.

The neighborhood in which the Kowalski family lived was old; the houses appeared to have been built more than forty years before. Despite their age, the homes were lovingly maintained. The lawns were neatly mowed and the trees properly trimmed. None of the homes had any faded or chipped paint. The few cars that were parked in the driveways outside of the garages were Mercedes, BMWs and other high-end vehicles. This gave Jason the impression that the people who lived there made more money in a month than he did in half a year if not more. Jason felt embarrassed driving his old, run down car through such an affluent neighborhood.

The Kowalski’s home was located in the center of a cul de sac down a quiet street. Jason pulled to a stop and parked on the street in front of the Kowalski home instead of the driveway. Knowing his car, Jason was positive that it would leak oil and he didn’t want to leave an ugly stain on his customer’s driveway.

After carefully retrieving the suit from the backseat, Jason made his way to the front door. As he walked, a voice in his head screamed at him, begging him to turn around and leave. Regardless of the fact Jason was confident he was doing the right thing by offering to help the Kowalskis, fear ate at his belly, slowly ripping away his resolve. Much like Alice, Jason began to fear the potential outcome of what he was about to do. When he finally reached the front door, his hands were shaking so much in fear that he almost missed the doorbell when he went to press it the first time.

The woman who answered the door was obviously Mrs. Kowalski. She shared the same look of utter devastation her husband displayed days before in Jason’s shop. When she spoke, her voice was flat and emotionless, as if she had been drained empty of all caring by her family’s ordeal. “How may I help you?”

“Hello, I’m Jason Lynch, Mr. Kowalski’s tailor. I stopped by to drop off his new suit.” He did not smile when he greeted the woman. He felt his practiced smile would have been inappropriate to show Mrs. Kowalski due to her pain.

“Oh,” she said, still devoid of all feeling, “let me get him for you.”

She shuffled away with her feet dragging across the floor. Mrs. Kowalski was unmindful of the open door she left behind her. Either she was a trusting soul or, more likely than not, was too preoccupied with her daughter’s mental state to care about the man she had never met before standing outside the opened door.

“Robert?” Jason heard Mrs. Kowalski calling out for her husband. “Robert, there’s someone here for you.”

There was movement from within the house; someone was walking toward the door. Suddenly, Jason heard a small dog barking ferociously. Well, as ferocious as a small dog can get. “Shut that damn dog up!” Robert snapped from somewhere in the house. “It’ll wake up Sarah!”

A moment later, the dog ceased in its barking and Robert came to the door. “Good evening, Jason.” He eyed the suit dangling from a hanger in Jason’s hand and said, “You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I was going to pick it up tomorrow.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Jason. “Besides, I wanted... to talk to you... in private.”

Robert blinked once. “Okay, come on in.”

The older man led Jason into the house and to a den just off the hall. Robert took the suit from Jason and bade, “Have a seat. I’ll hang this up and be right back.”

Jason sat in the heavily padded chair in front of the room’s desk. Wiping his sweating palms against his pant legs in a vain attempt to dry them, he looked around the room which Robert used as a home office. It was large and well decorated. There was an antique lamp resting on the mahogany desk. There were several pieces of artwork on the walls, ranging from abstract pieces to paintings of fields and creeks. Jason knew his customer was well off financially, but couldn’t tell if these paintings were original, one-of-a-kind works or high quality reproductions.

Taking a long, deep breath, Jason tried to settle his nerves. His anxiety was physically apparent. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on his brow. His left knee bounced up and down as if a part of him was struggling with the notion of telling Robert the secret; this part of Jason wanted to abandon the plan and flee.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about, Jay?” asked Robert when he returned to the room. The man sat in his chair behind the desk.

Jason gulped. He wanted to delve directly into what he came here for and get it over as soon as possible. But his fear suppressed this and he very nearly blurted out, “How is your daughter?”

“She’s in her room, asleep,” he said sadly. “The drugs she’s on make her sleep most of the day.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding. He did not know that he began rocking back and forth slightly in the chair.

“You didn’t come out all this way just to check up on Sarah, did you?”

Sighing, Jason steeled himself. “I need you to promise not to tell anyone what I’m about to say.”

“Is everything all right, Jay?” Robert asked, genuinely concerned.

“Please, Robert, promise you won’t talk to anyone.” Jason knew his tone was desperate, bordering on begging.

“Okay, I promise.”

“Ah” he began weakly, struggling to find the right words.

It was difficult for Jason to speak about what he could do. No one, besides Alice, had even known of his secret and strange talent. He had actively kept it a secret out of fear of what would happen to him and to Alice if the truth was ever revealed. Now that he decided to open up to Robert, he had to strain against the desire to keep his skill a secret.

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a unique... ability,” Jason said with some effort. “When I look at fabric, any type, I don’t just see patterns and colors, but I see feelings as well.”

“Feelings?” asked Robert, confused by Jason’s wording. “Do you mean textures? Like the way fabric feels in your hand?”

“No, sir, ‘feelings’ as in ‘emotions,’” he clarified.

Robert stared at Jason with an arched eyebrow.

The younger man continued to nervously explain. “My mother was a seamstress and did most of her work out of our home, so I’ve always been around fabric. I could see feelings in the swatches and bolts. Generally speaking, specific fabrics have specific emotions. Silk has love in it, denim has strength, and wool has comfort.”

Even with his fear gnawing at him and his whole body trembling from the effort, Jason forged ahead. “Sometimes, what people do with a particular piece of fabric has an effect on its feeling. The person’s emotions—and sometimes even their memories—will be transplanted and imbued in the fabric. For example, a quilt that’s been passed down from one generation to another has a lot of love, comfort and unity in it. The family that owns and uses the quilt instills these emotions into it.

“I can see... things, like colors but not any that you could identify as colors, and these colors mean different emotions to me,” he said, trying to find the best way to describe what he saw when he looked at fabric.

“Jason, I—” Robert tried to interject.

“Please, sir,” Jason interrupted. “This is very difficult for me and I need to finish.”

Now Jason was getting to the most difficult part. “When I was six, I had a pet hamster. And by accident, I discovered I could remove his essence.”

“His essence?” asked Robert, incredulously. “Do you mean its soul?”

Nodding his head in the affirmative, Jason continued. “I was petting the hamster and pulled my hand away. When I lifted my hand, I could feel something around my fingers and palm. I somehow knew it was the hamster’s spirit.

“I don’t know why I did what I did next, I may have been frightened and panicked a little, but I placed my hand with the hamster’s essence on a stuffed bear my mother had made out of spare scrapes of fabric. Somehow, I was able to place the hamster’s essence into the teddy bear. And when I looked at the teddy bear, I could see the hamster’s thoughts and emotions. The hamster’s being, his essence, had replaced the emotions in the fabric.”

Robert stared, wide-eyed at Jason. It was clear the older man was completely dumbstruck by his words.

“When my father came home and found the teddy bear, he thought a rat had burrowed into the doll,” Jason continued despite his customer’s shock. “He stomped on it thinking he’d crush the rat. I saw the fear and panic in the hamster, but it was unharmed. My father grabbed the doll and threw it in the dumpster outside.”

“Jason, this is... fascinating” Robert said hesitantly, “but I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“I’m getting to that, sir,” he replied. “When I was seven, my best friend had a cat. She loved this cat.” Jason paused and smiled over the memory, recalling how much Alice adored that fat, cantankerous cat. He quickly pushed this thought to the side and continued. “The cat would attack her dad every night when he came home. It would hide in the shadows and lunge at him whenever he passed, biting and clawing at his ankles. It got so bad her dad was threatening to take the cat to the pound and have it put to sleep.

“Alice was devastated,” he said. “She cried on my shoulder. The incident with my hamster only happened the year before and I got an idea. I reasoned that if I could see the animal’s emotions while they were in a piece of fabric, perhaps I could cut out the negative feelings. So I convinced Alice that I could help her. I pulled out the cat’s soul and placed it into a large swatch of cotton my mother had lying around. Just as I thought, I could see the cat’s anger directed to Alice’s dad. And I cut it out. I pulled the cat’s spirit out of the cotton and placed it back into its body. From that moment on, the cat stopped attacking Alice’s dad’s feet.”

Robert leaned back in his chair. “So, you’re saying you have this magical ability to remove an animal’s soul, place it in fabric, and cut away all bad feelings?”

Jason paused for a moment before answering. This was the reason why he had decided to come here and offer his help to Robert and his family. “Not just animals, sir.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, chilling Jason as Robert leveled his eyes on the younger man. He pressed his lips into a thin line and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “I think you should leave, Jason.”

“I can help you,” Jason pleaded. “I can remove your daughter’s sense of guilt and she won’t try to hurt herself anymore!”

Robert pulled his checkbook out of one of the drawers in the desk and quickly wrote out a check. He tore it out of the book and stood. Handing Jason the check for the suit he had just delivered, Robert spoke slowly and firmly. “If I didn’t think it wasn’t in your character, I would think you were trying to scam me.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, Robert, but I’m not lying. Please, I can help your family!” pleaded Jason.

“You know the way out.” Robert’s tone warned Jason not to press the issue any further.

With his head hanging in defeat, Jason walked out of the Kowalski’s home and back to his car. While he turned the ignition time and time again, waiting for the engine to start, he wished he could go back in time fifteen minutes and stop himself from telling Robert his secret. He risked everything by telling the man about his skills and it was all for naught. Robert thought he had been lying at best, mentally deranged at worst.

Jason returned to his apartment. His attempt to not only save someone’s life but to make up for his own transgressions was a disaster and he could not take the grief any longer. After rapping his knuckles on the door in the code, Jason unlocked the door and entered his apartment.

Alice didn’t need to ask whether or not Jason had been successful. The pain and defeated look in his eyes told her everything.

Find out what happens!

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