THE PENTAMERON; or, THE FIVE DAYS OF FIFTY STORIES, AS TOLD BY A GROUP OF FRIENDS ESCAPING THE COVID PANDEMIC
DAY TWO
by Mariah Ashe
THE PENTAMERON; or, THE FIVE DAYS OF FIFTY STORIES, AS TOLD BY A GROUP OF FRIENDS ESCAPING THE COVID PANDEMIC is a reworking of the 15th Century work “Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles.” First translated into English in 1899 by Robert Douglas, this collection is now, for the first time, elevated to the level of Boccaccio’s Decameron and the Heptameron of Marguerite de Navarre with a frame story fitting for it.
Story the Second
Were the writers of Hollywood ever to canvass about for new tragedies, I have no doubt that the story I have to tell would be added to their great lists. I think, too, that, were its movie made, it would sweep the entire awards season, there being no greater misfortune for pen to show being borne by man.
This man of whom I speak was, at the time, one of the rising influentials in Olympia—I will not, therefore, share his name—and it must be said that he was furnished with all that befits a man about power. Moreover, there was, I tell you, never a man more destined to be a favorite with the ladies.
Now, it so happened that this man had lately been taken by the charms of a beautiful, gracious, and gentle young woman, and she had found herself just as smitten as he. This love affair, straightforward as it was, greatly pleased the pair, but it so happened that the young woman’s roommate—herself an eligible young woman—caught our man’s eye, and he caught hers, as well. It should be known that these two roommates were the best of friends, and just as the first had qualities in abundance, the other had a reputation second to none on account of her great beauty, elegance, and good manners. Their names—I will give their firsts—were Helen and Elaine.
The man’s budding affair with Elaine, growing as it was beside his blossomed one with Helen, had advanced to the point that each only desired time and place to say and do what would most please both. The couple were many days in considering how to gain for themselves this opportunity—he, of course, being in politics, was married, so his home was as unusable as seemed hers—but at last, she came to the realization of the perfect plan, which would finally secure for them the utmost secrecy along with the same of joy.
“My dear,” Elaine said to him at the next available opportunity, “you know how it is not possible for you to come to my bedroom, being so near that other, and you also know that this other is my friend as well as your lover, whom neither of us wants to lose.”
“I know this all,” the man replied, “and it greatly troubles me.”
“Well, then, hear my plan. There is, you know, one more who lives with my roommate and I, this third being my dog, Beast.”
“The German Shepard who barks at me all the time? Of course, I know him.”
“He is only half German Shepard.”
“Whatever he is, he barks.”
“Well, what you shall do is come over some night when Helen thinks you occupied elsewhere, and I shall, at the same time, put Beast out in the backyard. Then, when you come, he will bark, and I will be ready to announce that the dog must have too much energy and be in need of walking. In this way, we can secure ourselves some time together, during which she, whom neither of us wishes to upset, will think each of us differently engaged, and there will be no reason for her to, in either case, suspect otherwise. This is, I think, the best way to enjoy our love while least chancing her hurt.”
This plan was readily agreed to, there being no other, and the pair could not help scheduling the soonest possible day for it, this being the very next. All accounts agree that, to start, things went as planned, and the two roommates spent a quiet night alone together while he, for his supposed part, was said to be dealing with a minor political emergency up in the Seattle area, which was expected to occupy him all night. Thus, suspicion was put in a place as to be the farthest thing from the mind of the deceived-to-be.
What need is there to prolong the story? The two young women went to bed, and the man then showed his face in their backyard, setting of the alarm of Beast.
“Do you hear that?” Helen called out from her bedroom.
“I do,” Elaine called back. “He must need a walk. I forgot to give him one today.”
Then, from the perspective of Helen, there was heard the opening and closing of Elaine’s bedroom door, and this was followed by the sound of the house’s back door being opened and closed. Elaine, meanwhile, excited the house to immediately enter the arms of her awaiting lover. He, for his part, was so delighted to see her—it may be that he had not had the fullest confidence in the plan—that he lost strength and sense in the overwhelming view of her being so beautiful and excitedly prepared. In short, of kissing and cuddling, he could do plenty, but when it came to the grand operation, he could not perform.
So, Elaine was forced to return to her bedroom—her guise, after all, did not allow her to stay outside long—her plan having been carried out successfully but fruitlessly.
“Did you walk him?” Helen asked through her door.
“A little,” Elaine replied.
“Enough, let us hope.”
Now, as might be expected, the man outside was rather disappointed in himself, and his confidence in himself was such that he felt disgraced before his own expectations, much less hers. Slowly, however, over several minutes, his courage returned, and before long, he said to himself that, were he fortunate enough to get another opportunity with his lover, she would leave him quite differently. Thus, animated and spurned by shame and desire, he did not leave the field of his failure, but, rather, remaining in the backyard, he provoked Beast into barking far louder than he had before.
“Elaine,” Helen called out, “do you hear that?”
“I do,” Elaine replied.
“It seems you left him unsatisfied.”
“I will go down and give him another chance.”
For a second time, therefore, the innards of the plan played out, and she slipped away while he stood just outside the back door, ready to receive her. For a second time, however, he faltered upon her coming, finding himself, after so much buildup, left without proper tool, she now twice denied the twice paid for, despite being herself readily equipped and ready to meet the work with firm foot. With all the lack being done, she tried to leave, but he detained her by force and soft words, begging for another chance.
“Please,” he said, “stay a little longer. I know that I have two strikes, but do not consider me out, and give me, I ask, one more opportunity for coming through. Do not be more unfair than baseball.”
“I have stayed too long already,” she replied, “considering what I have got from it, so do not speak to me of unfairness. As for missed tries, if baseball is, indeed, to offer more than women, so be it. Two whiffs, I say, is enough for me.”
With that, she returned inside, despite what he might say or do, and closed the door in his face, loudly locking it after.
“Elaine” Helen called out, “what was that I heard you saying?”
“It is that Beast,” Elaine replied, “who brought those cursing words from me. After all the trouble he gave to get me out there, he was lying flat, with his nose to the ground, and hiding such that I could not find him. Then, when I did find him, he would not get up for anything that I could do. I tell you, I would willingly have given him a round, but he would not deign to lift his head, so, in disgust, I have shut the door upon him and left him outside.”
“You did quite right. I would have done the same.”
Chase: Such, as you have heard, was the great misfortune of this rising influential, who was able to acquire all but the final grasp of acquirement.
Daisy: That is the worst ending that can occur in love?
Neil: Yeah. Misfortune, for sure, but the greatest?
Chase: Unseizable opportunity, by which I mean one holding that which he is not able take hold of, I regard as the greatest misfortune to befall one in general. This, then, being its best application to love, makes it the worst of the field, as it were.
Pierce: I am not sure that it is that simple.
Phil: What you say, then, Chase, is that not being able to get it up is the greatest disaster in the whole game of love?
Neil: That is what he is saying.
Chase: By definition, Phil, yes.
Pierce: This case was a particularly bad one, too, not to mention happening twice.
Daisy: The thing is, if I may say so, a little too common for such a claim.
Phil: Let us move along to our day’s third story. Who wants to tell it?
Neil: How about you, Phil?
Phil: I was planning on going last. What about you, Neil?
Pierce: I will go, if it will please the Storytelling Boat.
Chase: Someone has to.
