Golden Porsche King

*a fable*

His castle rose up above one of Austin’s most iconic lookout points on Scenic Road overlooking Lake Austin. He liked to light it up with a peace sign at Christmas. He hated a man for upsetting his hold on his wife’s best friend. He and his wife lived next door to my friend and her 8-year-old son. For a *unspoken bargain* he gave her a large house in Tarrytown for the price of an apartment on Riverside Drive. For this magnanimous courtesy, the king could summon the mistress and the boy at any time. They would dutifully jump over the rock wall, separating their backyards. And the king could pretend he was a father to the boy, a benefactor to the woman.

All proceeded to plan until the friend took a boyfriend who slept over occasionally.

A message was delivered over the wall by the wife. “If he stays, your rent is going up.”

Drama ensued. The man tried to reason with his friend. “Maybe we can all meet, work things out. I don’t know the king. The king has never met me.”

“He doesn’t want to meet you.”

As time went by the man began spending more time at the house with the woman. The wife decided the man was no longer a friend or of benefit to her plans. She withdrew any hope of a peace treaty between the king and the man. The man asked the woman to protest, make some choices, choose him over this controlling king.

She promised to bring it up at the next Christmas gathering, a few days away.

A year passed. The man was now spending weekends in the King’s house with the woman. And with some regularity, the woman and the boy would hop the back wall and join the King and her best friend in cookouts, sunset drinks, and holiday parties. The man was not invited, in fact, was prohibited from coming over the back wall.

In one memorable moment, the man was helping the woman sell a piece of furniture on the internet. A truck pulled up the long driveway and the interested party got out to check on the piece.

“We’re jumping over the wall,” said the woman.

“Um,” said the man.

“I’m not sure how long we will be.” And they were gone. The interested party didn’t like the furniture and he backed his black truck back down the driveway. The man retreated to the bedroom that he shared with the woman. He tried to calm his mind. He tried to understand why the woman would treat someone she loved this way. He read a book but could not let go of his own anger about the injustice. He put a small bag together and left to go back to his apartment.

As he pulled around the bend, there in the middle of the overlook street was the King, his wife, the woman and the boy. They were throwing a football in the fall Sunday afternoon.

The man imagined accelerating his car and running over the King. He slowed instead and let them move out of the street. In that moment, the woman saw the man and seemed confused and then angry. The man kept his eyes ahead and drove slowly between the joyous, now surprised, group of friends.

The man never returned. The King’s wife died of cancer. The woman moved to Vermont with the boy. The Vermont she loved but escaped because of the freezing and long winters. The house they shared remains empty, the gate closed and locked.

The story goes on in ice rinks and frozen fields without the man. Thankfully.

Read more Short-Short Stories from John.