The Arrival of Mr. Marsh

-- This is part one of two. --

I. Prentiss

Prentiss waits at the train station

He waits and checks his watch

The watch Mr. Marsh gave to him

Last summer at that very same station

Just before he hopped on another train
Returning to the city for the fall and winter

With the promise of returning

When the Lessers were back at Overhill

Prentiss waits and reads

From a book he brought with him

Hoping to have something

That would catch Marsh's eye

Fire up a conversation

Between the former student and tutor

It would not be like last summer
When Mr. Marsh would look at Prentiss
As if he were a special child
Who needed help crossing the road
Just because he stammered when he was nervous
And therefore couldn't answer questions
Even simple ones

Prentiss was sweating

Which made him agitated

Thereby increasing the sweating

So that he was forever

Tucking and untucking his shirt

Flapping it against the air

Hoping to dry himself

So that he wouldn't look like a farmhand

When the train finally pulled in

Prentiss was certain of one thing

He would not be struck silent

When his old teacher appeared
He would offer a confident greeting
And a strong handshake
Showing that he had changed
That he was no longer meek and timid

Something about Marsh

Inspired absolute fear and intimidation

In everyone

Except Mariella

Prentiss' aunt

She was willing to stand up to him

At dinners when spittle and ideas

Would fly across the table

Along with plates and saucers

Depending on how angry

Mr. Marsh made her

'You're a damn fool of a man'

'You're a spoiled brat disguised as a woman'

And so on and so on

Until everyone had left the table

The sound of two passionate voices

Ringing throughout Overhill

Even with the oak doors slammed shut

And pillows stuffed over

Less political ears

Prentiss waited and waited

And soon the rain began

So that he had to stand under the awning

Wishing he had brought an umbrella from the house

Or at least some sort of coat

That he could use to shield Mr. Marsh

Since he always dressed so nicely

And wouldn't it be a shame for him to show up at Overhill

Wet and uncomfortable?

What a horrible way to begin a summer

Prentiss continued to wait

And the rain came

And went

And the trains came

But not Marsh

And finally

It occurred to Prentiss

That the arrival of Mr. Marsh

Was going to be a delayed affair

II. Nadia

'What do you mean he's not coming?'

Blake had been to the train station twice

And now it was late afternoon

And there would only be one train left

Early in the evening

And then that would be all

'I don't understand'

Prentiss could not be moved

Blake had offered to wait in his place

But Prentiss had rehearsed his speech

And it wouldn't work unless all conditions

Remained the same

Nadia had planned on a more subtle approach

She was sunning herself on the lawn

And had planned on having Mr. Marsh

Discover her that way

The River Nymph of Overhill

Barely fourteen

But already nicely developed

She was wearing a pink swimsuit

Not a two-piece

Because her mother wouldn't allow it

But with the top pulled down

As low as it would go

Without--

As her grandmother would say

--Putting up the calendar

Nadia had been out there

Since nine that morning

Repeatedly rubbing lotion on herself

And alternating positions

Trying to determine which position

Most accentuated her newfound sexuality

That was what she called it

'Newfound Sexuality'

But then ten had rolled around

Then eleven and finally noon

That was the first time Blake was sent out

To see just what the trouble was

He had to take the brown car

Since Prentiss had taken the convertible

And Nadia felt she'd be very irritated

If Marsh pulled up in that ridiculous brown car

She was sure it would ruin the moment

Then Blake had returned

To say that Marsh hadn't arrived yet

Nadia acted nonchalant

But she was unsettled

She couldn't remain on the lawn all day

She'd be a potato crisp

By the time he arrived

So she went into the kitchen

And bothered Ginger

Who was putting together the entree

For tonight's welcome dinner

'I don't know why I bother'

She was basting something

But Nadia wasn't clear what

Cooking wasn't something that interested her

That was what Ginger was for

'Your aunt is just going to throw whatever I make

Across the table at Mr. Marsh anyway'

Nadia didn't find this amusing

Her aunt's arguments with Marsh

Were a distraction from his focusing on her

She'd always try to eat whatever was on her plate

With seductive casualty and nuance

Until her mother yelled at her

To stop playing with her food

Perhaps her sexuality

Wasn't so newfound after all

She used to sneak into his room at night

During that arid July

When it was too hot to perspire

Because the sweat would evaporate off your skin

The minute it appeared

She would sneak into Marsh's room

Crawl up onto the other side

Of the unnecessarily large guest bed

And just watch his body

Rise and fall

With the rhythm of his breathing

When she thought she could get away with it

Nadia would lift up the covers

And admire the contours and lines

Of Mr. Marsh's twenty-eight year old body

Completely naked underneath the sheets

It was almost too much for her

She'd lay there and whisper things to him

Promises of elopement

Pleas of desire

Sometimes just dirty words

That came out of her mouth

Like a bubblegum bubble

Getting bigger and bigger

Until she popped it herself

Once she was satisfied with its size

Nadia would lay there

And talk to Marsh

She'd confess everything to him

In the stillness of the suffocation

That comes from a dead summer night

Feeling all her secrets

Get taken into the vacuum

Of the heat

She'd make him promise to never tell

And the sound of his breathing

Would be the only agreement she needed
As the clock in the hall
Counted off the hours

When she would return to her room

Just before the sun would arise

Nadia would climb into bed

Feeling like she had just gotten in

From a night in the city

Taking in the theater

And a nightclub

It was like she was a grown-up

And she'd fall asleep

Repeating that to herself

'I'm a grown-up now

Why yes, I believe I am

I'm a grown-up now

My, how good that feels'

Nadia's mother would find her in the morning

And be pleased with her daughter's sleeping disposition

How lucky to have a child

Who looked so peaceful

When sleeping

III. Blake

The second time Blake was sent back to the station

He was reciting in his head

The way he'd tell his brother

That Mr. Marsh would not be arriving

Neither today nor tomorrow

Nor at all

Blake had received the letter

Though he immediately destroyed it

Hoping Marsh would change his mind

And follow through with the plans

They had agreed on

Before he left the previous summer

They shared many of the same thoughts

Blake and Marsh

Two men who had seen more of the world

Than the rest of the Lesser family combined

And Blake felt a certain kinship

With the poor teacher from the city

Who lived in a filthy apartment

In an awful neighborhood

One that Blake had visited

Many, many times

'My sister has a crush on you'

'Does she now?'

'Do you blame her?'

'She's a little young for crushes.'

'We all start young in my family.'

'Now that I believe.'

This was their pillow talk
This is what they would discuss
As Marsh put his shirt back on
And smoked one of his cigarettes
Blake abstaining

Blake would tell his mother

That he was going off to class

And she never asked

Why class always seemed to go

Until one o'clock in the morning

Marsh would take him to readings

Poetry readings in little restaurants

Where you had to strain

To hear the readers

Over the din of the dropping plates

And the informal conversation

They'd go to the library

And just sit across from each other

Looking up things that interested them

Attempting to learn exotic languages

And then after they'd left

Talking about the vacations they'd take
To the places where those languages were spoken

It was never meant to turn into an affair

And after each time

Polite chitchat would ensue

And there would seem to be an agreement

Unspoken but clear

That it would never happen again

Family was a nice talking point
Blake's family
And Marsh's opinion of them

'Your aunt Mariella is something else.'
'She lost her husband. She's been impossible ever since.'
'I thought you liked her.'
'I do! I love her. I love that she's impossible.'

This is what they would talk about
Their eyes swearing
That they'd never see each other
This vulnerable again
That this openness in conversation was fine
When it was a substitution for worse discretions

And then it would happen again

And neither would have been able to say how

If they had been asked about it by anyone
And what a thought that was
To have someone find out

It was a thought which terrified Blake

So badly that he found himself breaking out

More so than even Nadia

Who was just thirteen at the time

His mother would look at the two of them

Standing in front of the vanity mirror

Picking at their faces

And say--

'You have your father's skin

And his stubbornness.'

They'd yell at her

One voice on top of the other

It was one of the only things

They enjoyed doing together

While this was happening

Prentiss would be sitting at the windowseat

Gazing at who knew what

Blake's younger brother's head

Was a mystery to everyone

Even his aunt Mariella

With whom Prentiss was very close

'He's just a quiet soul'

Mariella would say--

'He likes to admire the world

I think that's beautiful.'

Blake couldn't see admiring the world
The mess that it was these days

But admiring Marsh was something else

He was full of knowledge

Full of brooding and vigor

Somehow mixing together

To create an intoxicating personality

That made Blake want to propose ludicrous things

They'd be lying in bed together

And he'd jump up and down

Making Marsh laugh at his childishness

'You'll wake the neighbors'

'Let's buy a boat'

'What for?'

'To sail, Marsh!'

'I'd get seasick. I like the land.'

'So let's buy a horse. Two horses.'

'And a carriage?'

'I want to travel with you.'

'Is there something wrong with driving?'

'It's not good enough.'

'I think you're hoping for too much, Blake.'

They would go to museums

And even though Blake couldn't do more

Than take the taskmaster's approach to the trip

Reading all the plaques

Explaining what he was seeing

But not really appreciating anything

He would stand close to Marsh

And watch him tear up at paintings

And sculptures

And all sorts of art

Sometimes he'd find himself getting angry

That he felt the way about Marsh

That Marsh felt about art

But clearly not about him

He'd want to turn down Marsh's invite

A quick nightcap at the apartment

That would only be a nightcap

To prove they could do it
Be sensible and friendly
And nothing more

What an achievement it would be

Blake didn't even feel like pretending anymore

So he just went home

And stayed awake all night

Imagining Marsh beside him

Facing away from him

But there all the same

He'd take Marsh's back

Over an empty space on his bedspread

But when he sent his customary letter

--As the eldest male of the family

It was his duty to hire all the staff

For Overhill during the summer

--He'd expected that Marsh would come

Just as he'd come last summer

And that what had happened over the year

Was a mistake that with time

They would both regret

But feel good about moving on from

The letter that came was simple

'I'm not coming

And it's not because of you.

My apologies.'

Apologies for which statement

Blake wasn't sure

But he tore up the letter

And hoped it would go away

He hoped Marsh would change his mind
And come anyway

He wanted it all to disappear

The rejection

The need to explain

To his family

Why their beloved tutor

Wasn't going to be joining them

The ache that was growing

Eclipsing even his steady hand

As he tried to write a letter back

Begging for Marsh to return

He didn't make it through the letter

And he didn't convince Prentiss to come back to the house

But still, he kept pretending

Because what other choice was there

But to keep pretending

And hope that the delusion
Would turn into reality

IV. Ginger

He looked so much like Trevor
It was startling
So much so in fact
That she dropped a breakfast plate
The first time he walked into the kitchen
A year ago to the day

She never mentioned it to him
It wasn't her custom to talk to the guests
The family was one thing
They encouraged her to speak to them
Not because they wanted to be friendly
But because they wanted to complain
About each other
To someone who wasn't one of them

But Mr. Marsh was not spoken to
She made sure of that
Although surely he must have noticed her
Staring at him for more than was appropriate
Trying to discern what features
Brought to mind her brother

The chin
The dimples
The nose
The way he said 'Please'
And 'Thank you'
And 'Goodbye'

Just like Trevor
All of it
Every bit
And it made her feel haunted

Luckily
Mr. Marsh was a tutor
Which Trevor never would have been
It wasn't that he was dumb
But he didn't share his intelligence
He was the perfect soldier
But not an academic
Not at all

She would spy on him
When she got the chance
And then pray for forgiveness
Knowing that she was not only being foolish
She was performing her job poorly
Because once Mr. Marsh arrived
The laundry was never done properly
Nor was the food any good
And the beds were shabbily made

Although nobody seemed to notice
Any of this
Since with the tutor around
Everyone seemed preoccupied

Prentiss was constantly studying
Night and day
The boy did nothing but keep his head
Planted firmly in one book or another
Until Marsh was around
And then he'd be quizzed

'And what was the name of the Knight in the poem, Prentiss?'
'Uh...I d-d-d...Well, it w-w-w-w-was..."

And he'd never get it
The poor thing
Marsh was driving him insane
Just by being in the house
Just by trying to help

It wasn't that he was cruel to Prentiss
He wasn't cruel to anyone
But the way people reacted to him...

Well
It was as if
He was being cruel to them
All the same
As if he was channeling insanity into them

Take Nadia for example

'He won't even look at me.'
'That's because he's a gentleman.'
'I beg him with my eyes.'
'Stop that.'
'He hates me.'
'He doesn't hate you. He doesn't even acknowledge you.'
'That's worse!'

The girl was insufferable
She'd hang around the kitchen
Before every meal
Nagging Ginger
With her puppy love

'I tried to walk in on him
While he was taking his bath.'

If Ginger was her mother
She would have slapped her
As it was, her mother didn't discipline
Not at all
She would have left that to their father
If he had lived past forty

'You should repent for that.'
'Why? Looking at a man isn't wrong.'
'With that purpose and those thoughts, it is.'
'Ginger, you're such a prude.'

She very well could be
But that's because she knew
What a risky life could get you
Take risks and they took too
They took something out of you
Even if they paid off

Her brother took risks
Took them all the time
Nobody wanted him to enlist
But he couldn't say 'No'
He couldn't turn down the opportunity
To cheat death

And death ended up getting
A fair game out of him
After all

Ginger didn't like the way
Blake looked at Marsh during dinner
When Mariella was screaming her head off
About how the war was pointless
The aunt always talked this way
And Ginger didn't bother to tell her
That she felt differently than this woman
Who had lost her husband
It was worse to lose a husband than a brother
So maybe Mariella had a right to feel
The way she did

Who could say?

But she'd look at Blake
As she was clearing the plates
When Mariella wasn't doing it for her
By throwing them at Marsh's head
And Ginger would see Blake
Smile in such a way...

And she didn't like it
Not one bit

But eventually she realized
That Blake was taken with Marsh
Just like everyone else
And that it couldn't be helped
A charmer was a charmer
God knows Trevor was
And everyone reacts to charmers
In their own way

That day
A year after she dropped the plate
And scattered the toast everywhere
Blake told her what she had been expecting
That he had been to the station twice
And there was no sign of Marsh
That Prentiss wouldn't come home
And that Nadia was sulking

He hadn't told Mariella
Or his mother yet
And he felt responsible
He said because he was in charge
Of securing the help
But she thought she heard
Something else in his voice
That indicated a deeper failing

'Who's going to tutor Prentiss?'
'I don't know.'
'Not just anybody can do it. He needs...'

But he didn't finish his thought

'Prentiss might learn more without Mr. Marsh here, Blake.'
'What?'
'Sometimes you learn more from a person by their absence.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'I don't know. I apologize. I spoke out of turn.'

But she thought of her brother
And the things she understood
When he wasn't there anymore
The meaning of hard work
And the nobility of suffering
Perhaps Prentiss would learn
About those things too

Blake left the kitchen
And she kept going at the welcome dinner
Even though there would be no welcome
She had been planning to make roast
And it didn't strike her until Blake left
That roast had been
Her brother's favorite

V. Mariella

Mariella was the one who went to Prentiss
When it was late at night
And Blake refused to make another trip
To the train station
After an argument with his mother
Over hiring a new tutor

'Prentiss won't like another tutor, Mother.'
'Don't tell me what my son will like.'
'But--'
'It's not about what he'll like or not like. He needs to be taught.'
'You could teach him if only you knew anything.'

Mariella thought her sister-in-law
Was going to kill Blake
But she intervened
And Nadia took Blake away
To another room
In another part of the house
While Mariella calmed their mother
With soothing words and a calm voice

After they were all tucked away
Prentiss, apparently, forgotten
She took the brown car to the station
And found him still sitting on the platform
Waiting

He reminded her of when
She would go visit Matthew
At the cemetery
Every week for a year
After he died

She would sit on the bench
Next to his grave marker
And be very quiet
For whatever reason there was
Perhaps because there was nothing
Nothing to speak of
Nothing happening
Just a widow in a big house

That was the winter
Before she was invited to Overhill
To spend the summer
With her dead brother's wife
And her nieces and nephews
And a tutor
Named Mr. Marsh

Mariella sat down next to Prentiss
And tried to summon her thoughts
The poor boy looked heartbroken
And on the verge of panic
So she just sat
And for awhile
Kept him company

'Impudent man!'
'Deranged harpie!'

It was like fighting with Matthew
It was infuriating
And absolutely wonderful
She hadn't fought
Or even raised her voice
Since Matthew was put in the hospital
And she'd been forced to scream at doctors
Demanding they do something
Then pleading with a softer voice
And finally crying silently

But when Marsh began spouting his views
At the dinner table one night
Mariella felt her voice return
And it sounded so much louder
Than she remembered it
It felt like remembering that you were alive
Alive again, she thought
That's what it feels like

'Prentiss, you have to come home.
I know you don't want to.
I know that right now
The lie is more appealing
Than the truth.
But the truth is he's not coming.
And we all have to accept that.
And you need to come home.'

She had gotten a letter of her own
It explained things in simple statements
About why he couldn't come back
Why it would be impossible
How he had fallen in love
And it wasn't right
And it couldn't be made right
And that the mother would kill him
Which he was wrong about
She didn't care enough about the children
To commit such an act

A minute or so went by
Until Prentiss finally spoke

'You're the reason'

He said it without his usual stammer
Clear and perfect
And because of that
She didn't understand at first

And then--

'You're the reason
He's not coming back.
All your arguing.
Your yelling.
Who would come back to that?'

Mariella didn't know why
He sent her the letter
Perhaps he felt
That she wasn't quite of the family
Or maybe he felt that she would be able
To break the news
In the most gentle way possible

And here she was
And she couldn't do it
She just couldn't

'Maybe you're right, Prentiss.'

She got up
And walked back to the car
Not looking back at her nephew
But knowing
That he wouldn't be home tonight
And maybe not for a long time

She didn't have it in her
To tell him that he was the reason
He was why Mr. Marsh
Would not be coming back
Not this summer or any summer
He was who Marsh had mentioned in the letter
The tutor had fallen for his student
And she couldn't bring herself to blame him

Such a nice boy
So special
Someone you had to fall in love with
And someone people wanted to protect
A quality that could serve you well in life
If you knew how to use it
Which Prentiss did not
Or could not

It was something
That could not
Be taught
Or rather
Learned

Mariella drove away
Back to Overhill
Back to her family
Who would be waiting for her
And wasn't it a nice thing
To have people in life
Who would wait for you
To return

Wasn't there that at least