We'll Meet Again

Chapter Five: Give Me The Simple Life

The walk to Alastor's home was made in relative silence. Vox spent the walk jumping between full-blown panic and a deep desire to know what the other man was thinking. Alastor's face gave Vox no clues as to what might be going on beneath. When they stopped to mount the steps of a beautiful home in the garden district, Vox found himself once again impressed by this young man's success. The front porch fenced by white columns was equipped with rocking chairs and lovely little hanging plants. The double front door let into a small foyer where Alastor removed his coat and shoes before proceeding into the hallway beyond. Vox followed his example removing his coat and placing it on an empty hook on the neatly organized coat rack and sat on a little bench that seemed to be there to remove one's shoes. That accomplished, Vox moved to catch up with Alastor who had stepped into the parlor. The room was richly appointed and well laid out. Vox was not exactly an interior designer but even his untrained eye could tell this room had been furnished and laid out by someone with an eye for design and detail. Alastor was standing before a lovely hand crank Victrola phonograph, after a few cranks of the handle a beautiful symphony of strings crackled to life. Alastor turned to Vox and looked him over with an approving grin. He brushed past and urged Vox to follow him up the stairs.

"I have a spare room I keep up mostly so Mimzy can hide out here when the occasion calls for it. The bed is comfortable and the window lets in a lovely breeze most nights. I will warn you, I wake rather early most days, but I will try to keep quiet."

Alastor opened the door to a charming bedroom, making Vox's overpriced hotel room feel like a poorly decorated roach trap. If this was the guest room, Vox was eager to see how the master bedroom was decorated. This innocent thought led to a cascade of less innocent ones that he tried and failed to cut off.

"It's nice Alastor. Thank you, sincerely. I would have been lucky to find a park bench to sleep on at this hour if not for you."

Vox moved into the room and sat on the bed. As he sank into it he let out a little involuntary sigh. He was pretty sure he would take this over the bed he had back home. The whole place gave off a cozy vibe that was soothing and pleasant. Alastor's voice broke into his comfortable little rumination adding a welcome warmth.

"I will be off to work first thing and will return around noon. Make yourself at home, and feel free to make yourself breakfast and lunch or just pop out and grab it. Until then, sleep well."

Alastor smiled at him before closing the door and padding down the hall to his room.

Vox was not entirely sure when he fell asleep but the world ceased to exist until he was woken with a mild headache and the sun shining through the window. He headed first into the kitchen to assess the food situation. He was shocked to see a refrigerator situated in the corner of the room. He had priced one for himself and found he couldn't justify the expense of the somewhat novel innovation. Opening it he found a chilled jar of strawberry preserves which he slathered on a generous slice of almost stale bread. He munched happily on this as he wandered the downstairs rooms. The dining room was lovely but not set up for many guests. The remaining room appeared to be an office with a writing desk and a couple of bookshelves. He moved into the parlor and clicked on the radio beside the now-silent phonograph. He was surprised to be greeted with an oddly proper version of Alastor's voice welcoming him to the program and giving the nine o'clock station call before pitching to a lovely jazz tune. The strangely proper transatlantic accent was an odd accompaniment to the image of Alastor his mind offered up. He sat and enjoyed the music for a while before deciding the porch might be nicer. Looking about a bit more critically he realized there was a swing suspended from the porch roof by thick chains. It was situated just in front of the parlor window. He stepped back inside just long enough to turn the radio up a bit and open the window before lounging on the porch swing. The calming music was nicely complemented by the gentle creaking of the chains, all broken every so often with Alastor's oddly accented but no less pleasant voice. Before Vox knew what was happening he was asleep again on the gently swaying swing.