The Siren's Call

2: In which I go to the park

***NEW CHAPTER! Thanks for reading!***

I awaken the next morning to my shabby, rather cramped flat. It could do with a cleaning, of this I’m painfully aware, but I have not the time to dedicate to such endeavors when the matters of the Tobias Theater press so heavily on my mind. I push the tattered blue quilt onto the floor, reveling in the cool touch of morning air upon my skin. Goosebumps prickle along my arms, bringing me slowly to awareness.

My head pounds with a splitting headache. Perhaps I should not have indulged in that extra drink or two last night, but truth be told I’m not sorry. Another hour with those bothersome old gentlemen and I might have downed the entire bottle of rum. To make matters worse, I did not even get the chance to speak to that pretty waitress thanks to them. Yes, that extra drink was quite necessary, if only for my mental health.

Now on to the matters at hand.

I push myself away from my cot, propelling myself towards the sink. A few quick splashes of the icy cold water soon bring me to full wakefulness. Memories of last night flash through my consciousness. Of Cora Watson and her golden hair. Of the board members and their driveling talk. Of stumbling back to my flat late last night with barely a memory of how I got inside the building, let alone into my bed.

The morning sunshine glares through the warped windowpanes, bouncing off the dust motes that clog the air and falling across my bare feet to warm them. I stretch, feeling the satisfaction of joints popping into place. With some resignation, I pluck the dusty razor from the medicine cabinet and run it under the rusty tap water.

There is much I should do today, I think to myself, scraping the razor across my cheek. Yet I want none of it.

Were I a better businessman, like my aging father, I might use this time today to speak to all manner of city council members and possible sponsors. Yet even the single board meeting last night has worn me out and left me wanting for freedom from this whole wretched business. I long for release from my financial troubles, from the shackles of the Tobias Theater that hold me to this city. It is a terrible irony that the thing that keeps me chained here is the very thing I would sell my soul to save from destruction.

The razor slips, carving a half-smile across my chin. A trickle of blood trails down my neck like a single tear. Cursing, I press my fingers to the cut, stemming the flow. The pain brings me back to my senses. I cannot waste time wishing for impossibilities. I have work to do, a theater to save, and none but myself to save it.

Clean-shaven once more, I pull my wrinkled shirt off over my head and don a somewhat clean white button-down. My pants, creased though they may be, will have to do, as I have none others to replace them right now. My hand hesitates for a moment over my trusty hat before opting instead for a red tie and glasses. Yes, that looks much better.

I’m halfway down the stairs of the apartment before I realize I’ve completely forgotten my shoes.

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The day does not go well, unfortunately. I sit in the park with the noon sun beating down on my back. I slowly munch on a handful of salted peanuts from the park vendor as I reminisce on the meetings thus far.

The mayor was adamant, there will be no convincing him. And messrs Brown and Simon refused to even meet with me. That Schroeder fellow was mayhap a bit more understanding, but what is one person among dozens? I am beginning to lose hope. No, the meetings today have not gone well at all.

A curious pigeon bobs over to my feet, pecking around the sidewalk. With a deep sigh, I toss the remainder of my peanuts to the ground, where he greedily snatches them up in his yellow beak. My customer is soon joined by a legion of pigeons, all searching for the treats scattered around my park bench.