#thousandseye

Every night, precisely at midnight, Dewey Denouement emerged from the mechanics of the clock that he kept so meticulously wound and went to his place at the front desk, replacing the little sign that read “Ernest Denouement - manager” with one that read “Dewey Denouement - manager.” This was a great source of satisfaction to him, the ability to keep things in check.

Greater satisfaction still was the sight of the name checked into room 327 - Kimberly Stewart, a name that meant nothing to anyone and everything to a certain manager. 

She was sure to be asleep. And by the time she awoke, he would be sleeping. It hardly seemed fair. Anyway, it was best in these sorts of situations to make a welfare check - just to be sure the guest in question had settled in properly, unpacked and was comfortable. 

     A map of Portugal was not what it seemed. A map of Portugal with a coffee stain in a very specific location was not what it seemed. A map of Portugal, stained with coffee and with red and blue lines marking the 38th and 39th parallel with a small x drawn over Braga meant that Dewey needed to take action. And quickly. 

     Say what one would about Dewey, he wasn’t slow to act when the life of the woman he loved as well their unborn child were in danger. No. It took a bit of figuring, but Kit was good with directions. And Dewey was good with planning. They made an excellent pair, when they managed to align. He should have gone with her. He should have.

Half the random strings of numbers he sends to her are references to the Dewey Decimal System. The other half? References to the poems of Emily Dickinson.

He thought he lost her once. It was only for the span of about two weeks, but a ship she’d been sailing on went down and while most of the passengers survived, Kit was not heard from. Dewey refused to speak for the entire length of time she was missing. It may have been this event that made Frank more wary of Kit’s influence over his brother; clearly this was no summer romance.

He likes to try describing her in poem form. He cannot. He has no artistic talent. 

picture the scene ! the twins, jacques finding himself cross legged, his sister positioned so her head lays upon his knee, and lemony, lemony who’s on his stomach and picking at the grass, not listening to a word that his brother had read. it’s a rare moment. the three of them, not in peril, not worried what happens when the moment ends, not thinking about their roles in an organization in which they belong. it’s the taste of a life that never existed for the trio. oh ! how they’ll miss it so.

nevermind years later, when they’ll be sitting like this again, except their sister had been crying, and the eldest indulges his sister’s request because the youngest isn’t there to scrunch his nose in slight disagreement with her words. nevermind what will come.

“  chapter twenty-seven,  ” he clears his throat, his voice has deepened since they’ve last done this. it’s rich sounding, how american announcers at baseball games might sound. “ ‘ the rain had come so gently that the salinas river did not overflow. a slender stream twisted back and forth in its broad bed of grey sand, and the water was not milky with silt but clear and pleasant. ’ ”

and so the chapter, the afternoon, went on.

          “    It’s quite warm, K -- do you think we could stop & sit for a little while ?    ”

          SHE’S A LITTLE MORE SENSITIVE THIS season than normal, perhaps it’s the exotic climate, or perhaps it’s the fact that her wedding date is getting closer & closer. Soon these two will be sisters, & perhaps, soon after that, she will be an aunt. How lovely that would be.

Though of course Kit is not exactly sentimental, but she had always been kind to Beatrice, for which she was thankful. Kit was very special to Lemony -- they had a very close relationship which Beatrice sometimes envied. Of course she loved her cousins dearly, but it wasn’t exactly the same as having a brother or sister.