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 Eighth
Not much time ago—so recently that the wounds are still fresh—there happened a series of events seemingly meant to be told in story, particularly one with an unhappy ending. I shall not give out the names of those in question, but the story of the three—a man and the two rivals for his heart—should be made known.
The two women—to start with them—before even becoming rivals in love, were rivals in nearly every conceivable attribute, and each was the type of woman whom every man would be proud to have glance his way—their main difference, in fact, was that one lived in the Queen Anne borough of Seattle while the other lived in the Capitol Hill portion of the city. The man, meanwhile, was a businessman who had long made his home on Bainbridge Island, and each day of the week, he would make the short ferry trip across the Sound into Seattle.
To start our tale, our businessman had been—for some time hence—deeply in love with she of Capitol Hill. Nevertheless, try as he might, though utilizing every means, he could not seem to inspire his same feeling in her, at which he became nearly forlorn, considering he had never loved a woman so ardently and complexly as he now did she. I should note that it is true to say that this man did as much for this lady as ever any lover did for another, but she still—for whatever reason—persisted in treating him worse than even common courtesy demanded; for she well knew how he felt about her.
Matters were in this condition when the other woman, she of Queen Anne, made her appearance on the scene. She, meeting he, fell deeply in love, and it might be said that she loved him to the very degree that he did the other. By various ways and means that would take far too long to detail, the businessman came to an awareness of this intense desire for him, but he was not as pleased as one might expect upon learning of the love of such a woman, his heart being already focused on another.
Now, hear how one night brought to an abrupt end each of this man’s affairs, both the one he did not care for and the one that had for him no concern.
On the evening in question, which was that of a Friday, the businessman was out about town with a few friends, celebrating the end of another long week. The group reveled their way about the heart of Seattle, but as the night progressed, our Bainbridge man began to lead them into the neighborhood of Capitol Hill, seeking either consciously or otherwise to put himself in his lover’s proximity.
In the course of the evening, the businessman happened to brag, amidst all the other bragging of the night, of this lover to his friends, highlighting all her attributes and charms while, at the same time, making no mention of her continued coldness toward him. Eventually, the man’s words in his favor, being so many as well as so strong, brought from the friends a demand for some sort of proof, especially since, as our businessman had informed them, they were now in her neighborhood. Perhaps, all this was part of the man’s plan, but whether through design or accident, he was suddenly in a position of demonstrating that which he had never received any evidence of, much less some proof.
“If things are as you seem to say,” one of the friends said, “then, surely, since we are in the area, you will be staying at her place tonight.”
The Bainbridge man could only reply that such was, indeed, so, though he was, however, clever enough to add that he had not yet informed his lover that he was here, which gave him, so far as getting out of what he had talked himself into, a little margin for error.
Well, as he was now obliged to do, our businessman sent word to the Capitol Hill woman that he was himself in Capitol Hill, and he delicately put forward the insinuation of his stopping by her place. Rather quickly, he received in reply word that his lover was already occupied with a headache, which had plagued her all day, and what she truly needed at the moment was a good night’s sleep.
At this very moment—the hour was nearing midnight—just a little west, in the borough of Queen Anne, she who loved our businessman was returning from her own Friday night out with friends. We need say no more of her state than that, once alone inside her home, she thought of the one she loved, and she soon sent word to him, inquiring whether he had yet to take the ferry back to Bainbridge.
Well, this message was, of course, well timed for our businessman, and he was quick to show it to his friends as evidence for the actuality of his other lover’s headache; for the interest of one made that of another all the more believable. Intrigued, too, the Bainbridge man was by the implication obvious in the invitation to stay the night in Queen Anne, and after a few minutes of consideration, he was absolutely inflamed and intent on accepting. Then, rather quickly, he did so, sending word that he would soon be there.
To return to she of Capitol Hill, who had denied yet another attempt of he who loved her more than anyone else, the woman was surprised when her rejection was not followed by repeated requests, culminating in begging appeals, and she was rather confused by the fact. Indeed, so interested did she become that she condescended to send word to one of the man’s friends—she knew them to be out together—asking through intermediary how the Bainbridge man had received the bad news.
“He took it well,” she was told. “Certainly, at first, he seemed broken up and in despair, but then, he received invitation elsewhere, which he showed us, and he was soon off, as good that moment as bad the prior.”
As might be expected, this news came as a blow to the Capitol Hill woman, and it can be said with certainty—as you will now see—that she did not take it well. Several strategies presented themselves to her mind, but it was not long before she resolved on the most obvious option. Thus, she set about crafting the most enticing message that she had ever sent, in which outright innuendo promised absolutely everything. As soon as it was ready, this temptation was sent on its way.
The effect of the message was that, as soon as it was read, the businessman found excuse to leave the company of the Queen Anne woman, which he had only been a few minutes in occupying. She, then, who had been so joyful in the expectation of her desire, became sad and sorrowful at the sight of his leaving.
Here, the Capitol Hill woman once again showed just how much she cared for the businessman; for it seems that she fell asleep in the interval between the sending of her message and his hurrying to appear as answer to it. Thus, when he arrived at her place, he could not get inside, and no answer, of course, could he get, either. Left as he was, he could do nothing but hurry back to Queen Anne, hoping that the lover there did not suspect him of leaving her for the lover here.
To best ensure his re-welcome, the Bainbridge man spent this final walk in formulating a long and lengthy lie for why he had been forced to abandon she to whom he now returned. We do not need to concern ourselves with the nature of this falsehood, and the man himself, as it turned out, did not, either; for on his return to Queen Anne, he received no reception, not even an angry one. At first, he convinced himself that she, too, might have fallen asleep, but he knew in his heart—the following days confirmed this theory—that things were otherwise.
Let us here leave the man, though we may note that, in his fruitlessness, he had ended up staying in the city past the time that the last ferry left for Bainbridge, and he was, therefore, left all that night in Seattle, alone and harassed by the reminder of his squandering one embrace in the reach for another.
Neil: Thus, in this tempting and teasing way, one man’s two loves came to bad ends, the one through his realization and the other through his overlooking.
Pierce: What a way to lose both.
Daisy: Well, one he did not have, remember.
Neil: That is right. To think that he lost both is to not actually understand what he lost.
Phil: It is still a full tragedy, though, and all in one night.
Chase: What, then, was the man’s fatal flaw?
Pierce: Being a man, I suppose.
Neil: What more is there to say?
Chase: Well, I have much to say about women like the one who toyed with this man, but I will refrain from saying it.
Pierce: Mr. President, I would prefer to tell our final story of the day, if I may. I did yesterday, and I would like to do so again.
Phil: I do not mind going next.
