The Hen’s Book

The next day Doran went to the travel agency (Ms. Brakson had in fact given him the money for the tickets) and while waiting for his turn he heard two older women talking about an incident which had occurred.

“She is much better today,” said one woman. “Poor Betty! That guy cheated her best friend Clara and Betty took it to heart and had a stroke. A stroke have you! This is very serious business!”

“Yes, I heard,” the other woman kept the conversation going. “They say he is her own son-in-law.”

“I would give him a true thrashing!” the first woman continued. “It’s horrible how he could cheat people.”

“Can you imagine? Even though he is well-educated,” the second woman added.

Of course, Doran understood that these two women were talking about him and would have given anything to simply vanish into thin air or break down into rudimentary molecules. Right then the ticket to India seemed to him to be the only way to save himself.

When his turn came Doran gave the money and his passport to the clerk.

“Mis-ter Do-ran Tra-per-ton,” the clerk said slowly as he made the ticket. “Fly-ing to In-di-a.”

“Doran Traperton?” asked the first woman to the second. “It would seem that he’s the one who drove Betty to a stroke. Would you just take a look at him! And now he’s going to India. Can you imagine that?!”

“At least now we know him in person!” stated the second woman. “What a small world it is!”

Each second spent in the ticket office became an eternity of torture for Doran and he wanted to leave it as soon as possible.

When Doran went outside it was raining and he let the rain fall on his hands and his face as if it could wash away all of the problems which had suddenly come out of nowhere. As he was walking home Doran tried to avoid looking in people’s eyes. It seemed to him that all of the passers-by in Green Rock knew about his misfortune and the problems he had caused for other people.

“I would give him a true thrashing!”, “They say he is her own son-in-law.” the words he had heard in the office kept echoing in his head, becoming louder and louder. At one moment they became so unbearably loud that Doran started running. He ran faster and faster and near the bank he lost his balance and fell into a puddle.

“Omnia transit,1” thought Doran sitting in the muddy water. “Omnia transit,” he repeated this Latin phrase every time he found himself under duress.

Sandra was shocked when her husband came home, the wet panting man looked like a prison escapee.

“What happened darling?” she asked. “Were you being chased?”

“No, everything is fine, but I can’t stay in this town any more. It’s killing me.”

Sandra looked at her husband attentively. She realized that he had got himself into a mess again: “Have you bought the tickets, Doran? When are you leaving?”

“I am leaving the day after tomorrow. We have very little time.”

Sandra didn’t want her husband to go alone. He was like a child who always required looking after. Her heart was filled with alarm: another country, another culture, another continent. What would become of him?

“Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.” Doran guessed what his wife was thinking about. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

One might say that the scene was very strange: a young man and woman standing and hugging each other in the middle of the living room. Doran was tall and drops of rain were falling on Sandra’s hair from his soaked head. They were both wet now and served as an example of how even staying at home one might get caught in the rain.

Doran wanted to spend the last two days with his wife. However Sandra worked on Fridays and she would be returning home only in the evening.

“My mother said she wished you a pleasant flight and that you do a good job in India.” Sandra said. “Of course, she is upset with you, but don’t take it to heart, she has a forgiving nature.”

It was timely information, remorse is not a good fellow traveler and he felt that he must ask Ms. Brakson for her forgiveness or at least say goodbye to her. Sandra’s words pushed aside all such obstacles and Doran was relieved, he could now just go. He started getting ready for the trip and Sandra helped him to gather his things for the long journey and pack his suitcase.

Saturday morning finally came and it was cold and foggy and the head lights of the taxi cut through the morning fog as it pulled up to take him away. Doran kissed his wife one last time and got into the waiting car. Sandra then stood and watched sadly as the vehicle disappeared into the early morning light.

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Примечания

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Lat. It will pass