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 Seventh
There was once a young man of Tacoma who sought to dedicate his entire being to love and its affairs—heart, body, and goods all. Moreover, this man—we have no need to know his name—was resolved on devoting himself solely to she who might deserve it, and after much searching, he was certain that he had found her.
It happened one day that this young man, having gone to a downtown bar, came upon this lady of his by chance. Her back was to him, so she could not see that she was seen, and what he saw was her sitting upon a bar stool with a man on either side, all three heartedly conversing. In order to please both, she would turn from one man to the other, speaking so that neither could hear what was said to his opposite, though each was kept in perfect good humor. At this sight, our poor lover was consumed with jealousy, and he did not dare to approach the group.
“In all our dates,” he said to himself, “she has never seemed so familiar with me.”
With nothing else to do, he made his way to a table at the back of the bar, though he still did, of course, desire her presence more than anything else in the world. At this point, it may be that his innermost parts suspected the truth of the matter, but affection blinded his eyes such that, what another might readily perceive, he could not see.
While he was sulking in this manner, our young man was come upon by a friend whom he had not seen for some time. The pair went through the usual pleasantries, which were made all the more pleasant by the drinks in each’s hand. Then, amongst other conversation, our young man happened to mention the trio at the bar.
“Look, friend,” he said, “do you see them over there? It is hard, I think, to not notice how pleasantly they are talking.”
“Indeed,” the friend replied, “I see them, and I see that they are doing quite a bit more than mere talking.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Can you not see that she has got hold of them both?”
“Got hold of them?”
“Rather firm holds, so far as I can tell. Tell me, where are your eyes that you cannot see this fact? Look, I tell you.”
Look, the young man did, and he now saw that his friend was correct. At once, he wished that he had not seen the fact while wondering why its sight had required direction. Heartbroken, too, he clearly was; for though she saw him as but another lover, she had been, to him, love itself.
“Take no heed,” the friend said, now realizing how much she had meant to him, “and bear it as well as you can. You have been wronged by her, but it is not for you to show it.”
Having thus spoken, the friend finished his drink then made his way to the bar, walking directly toward she who had hurt his friend. He did not show the slightest hesitation, and upon approach to the man in her left hand, he politely tapped him on the shoulder.
“May I cut in?” he asked, speaking with the utmost formality.
The man addressed was, at first, confused, and he then appeared ready to take offense. The other man, however, who occupied her other hand, once realizing the joke, laughed aloud and for some time, and he was eventually joined by his fellow, who could easily see the humor. She, meanwhile, saw nothing funny in either the joke or their laughter—time, likely, has not changed her view—and she crossed her arms in anger, which did, of course, require her letting go of what either hand held. Then, the joke teller left the establishment altogether, chuckling to himself at the thrust that he had made on behalf of his friend.
As the story goes, this bout of laughing proved so effective as to ruin either man’s relationship with the young woman, such that neither was ever again in an equivalent position to that which he occupied with her on that day. On this being true, however, we can only speculate.
Chase: So ends the tale. With my day’s first story, we decided that there was enough inability involved to blame entities other than misfortune, but here, I think, is found a representative case of misfortune in love, and if I am not mistaken, it is the greatest misfortune of its kind.
Daisy: The misfortune here, then, is where the young man put his heart?
Pierce: It could happen to anyone.
Phil: It does.
Neil: What about our sunny side, though?
Daisy: Is there one?
Pierce: Do you mean, Neil, the friend’s revenge?
Chase: That is what I was thinking.
Neil: Indeed, Pierce. As poorly as the young man may have placed his heart, the story shows the use that come from having a good friend by one’s side.
Daisy: And what use is that?
Phil: Well, her good time was ruined, at least.
Chase: Also, the time of the other two men was ruined.
Pierce: Theirs for good, too. With her, at least.
Phil: A pretty good revenge, I would say.
Daisy: Revenge for what?
Neil: May I tell our day’s next story? I am anxious to do so.
Pierce: Please do, Neil.
