The Mansion at Wayne Circle Park
By: Anna Blendermann
Tags: Short Story, Halloween, Lovestory, True Story, Love

A young brunette slipped on her glasses. If only, to get a better look at him from across the mahoghany table at The Rogg. She liked something about him. Voice? Laugh? The easy distance? Yes. He sat into — into like your muscles have clocked out for the day — the chair, gesturing as he spoke and smiling ocassionally. Half at her, half at his own thoughts. Attracted to the genuity and frustrated by the slight ambivalence, she leaned in as she answered. After a few hours, they moved outdoors with their coffee. Said he liked the Canadian weather. Oh crazy you! And the way he shrugged and smiled and pulled his jacket up his neck further suddenly made her want to rip it off him. Acknowledged the thought, resisted.

Oh, but she did see him again since she always had her way in all things. They visited the quaint Ellicott City downtown twice. He seemed to like quaint things, and nature. Leaves, brooks, and existing to see it. As did she. He showed her Greek grape leaves, music, and the irrestistibly sweaty, warm inside of his truck and my goodness. Was she caught like a fish on a spindle line. He fascinated her. An environmental freak arborist turned bike builder, like a damn Portlander but no… he was spiritual? They shared music for weeks and still she couldn’t get a handle on his taste. An old band player, he was sick of some things but would roll his head back in pleasure and shake and shiver at others. The latter included her voice.

So, they saw each other until he got busy at work. Real busy. He only had the time to go out on Monday nights, sometimes not even that. The girl, having time needs, tried to break it off — “I think we should just be friends” — yes, he understood. He also wanted to talk. He didn’t just want to let her go with a few text messages and a smiley face. Have a nice life. Fuck that. And that was all she needed. Within an hour, she was driving to meet him… She wanted this to work. Did he?

Fast forward.

6pm outside an old creepy mansion. Warner Circle park.

He was sick that night — Covid maybe, not a laughing matter — which made the situation more complicated but she didn’t care. She rolled the idea of him getting her sick around in her mouth and decided he was worth being miserable for a short time later. She kept her distance at first, while buying apple cider and lemon bars in a nearby market, but lost her resolve when they arrived at the old mansion by sunset. She parked and met him.

Warner Circle park was hauntingly strange even in the daylight. Hidden deep within a residential neighborhood, you’d think to see kids playing, couples walking dogs.. suburban life milling about, but no. It was eerily silent. A clock of grassy lawn encircled dead sidewalks, a few picnic tables, and a large old mansion. The mansion was an abandoned old person’s home — perfect for Halloween — and had been locked up for years. The house stood majestic, like a wizard observing his domain and scaring his subjects into reverent fright. Perhaps, Mr. Eye of Sauron over here was why the park was so empty. How dreadfully romantic for October.

He slid into a picnic table in the fading light, cradling his cider. Her eyes ran over his face, the kind eyes and long, dirty blonde hair. The black back-turned cap. Could she hug him? she ventured, knowing that might infect them with the virus. “Up to you” ok yes. She sat, facing outwards, and turned right to fit easily into his arms… and something happened.

The hug was a bit too long. Not long like ”oh god too much” and you want to flee. Not long like you haven’t seen a friend in months and you want to squeeze them to death. Long like, you kind of would rather stay right there. Push limits. The hug sent chills down her body. His arms came around gently and settled on her back, so warm. Hi, Hi. When she felt like she had to pull away, preserve dignity, it was slow and his hands moved down her back instead of lifting right off as if to keep contact. Keep her for just a moment. Like, when you hold onto someone’s fingers even when they stop holding your hand. They had already been infected.

She curled coming out of the hug, like an embarrassed child. Wouldn’t look up, knowing her expression would betray her. Because she knew then that she felt something real for him.