As Wilson walked along the small river that flowed across the street from his housing, he wondered, "Can anything be as beautiful as the Monarch Butterfly fluttering or the deer drinking water or ebb and flow that seemingly will never stop as long as man exists?" As he walked he saw all these things flash before him and could not come up with a logical solution to view everything as Chekhov had wrote in that short story that he loved so much. As much as he would like to, Wilson could never see everything as beautiful as it truly existed. "Curse the human mind, always compromising" he thought as he strolled along. Eventually he came to a rest on a fallen tree that sat about three feet from the edge of the river. The name of this river will not be revealed nor will the names of the places it surrounds because it would simply undermine the existence of such a phenomenon.
Wilson took out a cigarette and lit it, putting the used match into his left hip pocket. Out of his right hip pocket he pulled out a book, D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers. He was about three quarters of the way through the book. He read a couple of pages but put the book down. The relationship that existed between Paul and Miriam made him feel so dismal that he could read no further. How he wished for a woman, any woman to come walking down the river bank and ask him if he'd like to go with her. Where you might ask, why anywhere it didn't much matter to him. Lawrence had two women and Wilson had none. Wilson screwed up his eyes and looked up at the sun which was starting to set. He stood up and walked down to the riverside. The water rushed by his feet so beautifully that he pondered if the river had been created only for his eyes, as if god's hand had came down and crafted this marvelous stretch of water just as he got down to its banks. One of the things that Wilson very much fancied about this river were the rocks and boulders which extended out of the water and made it possible for someone to walk across the river to the other side without ever getting your feet wet, although he didn't much mind getting his feet wet. He wanted to view the sunset in the middle of the river. It was the most aesthetic view of the sunset that could be achieved due to the tree lined river bend which gave the golden sun much character as it passed by. He loved the sun, the river and the rocks, they were his being.
After awhile down by the river, he decided to walk back towards his room. He lived on the second floor of a boardinghouse. The boardinghouse had apparently been a barn at one point and then it was turned into lodging. The boardinghouse was located just outside of town N, which was about a ten minute walk. Wilson didn't go into town very much, preferring the solitude of his room. The room was rather small and only contained a few things that Wilson called his own. The most valued object was his small bookcase which sat just under the window which faced the river he so loved. It wasn't so much the wood of the bookcase that he loved but the things it held. Many a great authors took comfort on the shelving. There was Dostoevsky, Goethe, Gogol, Mann, Lawrence, Salinger, Bukowski and Celine among others. The books were lined up so that the edge of the book met flush with the edge of the shelf. He took up this approach after he worked at a bookstore in town. There was a section of three or four books for each author. His most cherished book was a 1850 original print book of short stories by Gogol, which included the stories "The Overcoat" and "Nevsky Prospect." This was the first book and particularly the two stories mentioned in the previously, that really opened his eyes to the struggles of the lone or underground man.
He was just putting away "Sons and Lovers," when he heard a knock on his door. At first he only looked at the door and did not move, then the knocking came again but this time it was louder and more violent. He waited to see if the knocking would stop but it didn't and so he felt that he must open the door. To his relief, it was his only acquaintance within the boardinghouse. Edgar was a painter and lived across the hall. "I heard you go into your flat and I wanted to see if you wanted to go to town with me." Wilson looked at Edgar and said. "What is your business in town, so much as I should accompany you?" Edgar looked at him and smiled, "Listen I'm going to go get a few drinks at the bar and wanted to see if you wanted to go." Wilson's face grew red, often he made a fool out of himself when talking to people. He felt that since he reacted poorly towards a simply offering that he had to go with him and have a few drinks and he thought "It won't be too bad just a few drinks and nothing more." So Wilson agreed to go and he and Edgar set out for town. They walked along the river due to the fact that the river flowed along the main road into town.
Wilson and Edgar walked down the path that that ran perpendicular to the river. All around them they heard noise which was brought forth by the fluttering and warbling of the native birds. Spring had just come into the region and it made almost everything feel alright. Wilson anyways felt better when he was outside rather than inside, the only problem that he faced was that he didn't like crowds very much so he has often stayed back in his room rather than go to the bank or mail a birthday card to a distant relative. But he realized that although he might hate crowds he must also in some way be apart of them. He often got into trouble when he was in crowds for too long. As he walked he wondered why he just didn't become a totally recluse and never come out or talk. It didn't make sense.
The bar in question was located about a quarter of a mile from where the river trail ends, near the bottom of the hill, the end result of the main street that ran through their small mountain town. It was about 4 in the afternoon when they arrived at the bar. It was cool and dark inside the place, as is customary for a bar to be. Wilson didn't recognize any faces and besides they were too hard and haggard to look at for too long. He thought to himself, "Shit, am I going to end up like that. Oh what's the difference? They are probably better off than me and they probably live a real life as well." Edgar moved towards the back end of the place. The building was of rectangular shape and the bar ran almost length ways until it hit a little room which contained a pool table and beyond that laid a door which led to a small parking lot. Overall the place wasn't too bad. Wilson had never stepped a foot in there before but he noticed that Edgar had had some practice. He sat down towards the far end of the bar and almost immediately the bartender came up to them. The bartender was not very important in anyway. He was about forty years old and had black hair with a mustache to match. He walked with such ease towards the two men.
"How you doing boys?" he said.
Edgar spoke up first seeing as how he knew the man somewhat. "Hey, what's up Jim? This is my friend Wilson, he lives in my building."
"Hello, Wilson. What will you guys have."
Wilson didn't respond and Edgar spoke again. "We will have two Buds."
"Alright, two Buds coming right up. Oh by the way Edgar, any new paintings?"
"Ah...I thought I told you last time Jim, lay off that shit. Would ya?"
Jim walked away and got their beers he didn't say anything when he put them down and they didn't say anything back to him. Wilson didn't feel so hot at this moment, he didn't like silence when he was out in public. He would have like there to have been noise, any kind of noise that could exist at that point, at that time. Just as all was looking like shit, Edgar nudged Wilson and pointed out two girls sitting on the other side of the bar. They were not bad looking, they were probably college girls. There was a certain softness in both Edgar and Wilson's hearts for women but there was something about college women in a college town where they lived except they didn't go to college there and they almost felt like outsiders because of this, it just didn't sit right with them. Although they both hated those college assholes, they could also live with the women that also went their. The girls were alone it seemed but one could never be too sure. Wilson got up from his chair to go smoke a cigarette outside. His path to the door was in direct line of the two women who had caught sight of him and his friend. Wilson was still feeling hot and so the cool spring air felt good to him. He felt like this would be alright, that is for one to exist in such a place where the air is always cool and spring never goes anywhere and one was free to live or die as they wished and one might become bored from it after a certain time no doubt but one could always rely on the idea of where they could be as in relation to where they are. Wilson tossed his cigarette and walked in. As soon as he walked in he heard his name called and it was not Edgar it was one of the two girls who Edgar was now talking with. Wilson thought, "Fuck this!" But still he walked over to his friend and to the girls and began what was all but certain to him to be some superfluous event.