Middle-Aged Romance

Vol. 186: Come on, baby, light my fire.

The three met at dusk, just as the bonfire began wrapping its golden fingers around the logs, licking at them with red tongues. The brilliant contrast against the purple sky was beautiful, flames dancing as they ate, throwing off generous heat that might have reminded one of the hot embrace of a lover. It was a romantic scene, and Liz believed it was the perfect setting for strangers to connect.

“Sarah of North Township, I’d like to introduce Roger of the pigsty near the peat bog,” Liz said with a flourish. “It’s about time you two met.”

Roger smiled and reached across the small table to grasp Sarah’s hand and bring it to his lips. Sarah giggled at the flattery. It had been some time since a man had paid her attention.

“Nice to meet you, Roger. I don’t believe I’ve gone out as far as the pigsty. I would have met you otherwise.”

“That’s alright. Most people avoid the pigsty as much as possible. It’s the smell, you know.” He smiled again, and by the glow of the bonfire Sarah counted his teeth. Looked like he still had eight or nine. Not bad.

For his part, Roger was admiring Sarah’s beautiful blue eye. The other was milky white and clearly useless.

“Sarah has survived the plague twice,” Liz told Roger.

“Aye, it’s true!” Sarah agreed, pointing to her numerous facial scars.

“I’ve got a few of those meself,” Roger smiled.

“We all have,” Liz laughed. One of her big, robust laughs that ended when a black tooth fell from her mouth.

“Oh, no. Another one,” she sighed.

“Nevermind, Liz. You still have your whole nose, and not many can say that these days,” Roger told her.

“Aye, still lovely,” Sarah nodded.

Liz felt a little better and rubbed the rotten tooth into the dirt with her toe. “Anyway, I need to finish dressing me Mum, so I’ll leave you to it. Ta!”

“Yeah, ta, love,” Roger waived as Liz headed towards her hut.

The men tending the bonfire added more wood. It was being built out to be a great big fire that spread light and warmth. Surrounding it were the women and children of the village, huddled together. The men worked the bonfire, feeding in wood and the bundles that were dropped nearby.

Roger and Sarah looked at each other and smiled. They didn’t mind the lines across the other’s face. They had each lived hard lives of work and worry, but some of these deep wrinkles had to have come from laughter.

“Tell me about yourself,” Sarah smiled.

“Well,” Roger says. “What can I tell you? I was born by the pigsty and I’ll die by the pigsty. I’ve had the plague thrice, but what a nightmare that first time was! Lost me first wife, Sarah, and me oldest daughter, Sarah. Then me youngest daughter, also called Sarah. I was young and strong then, only sixteen, so I got through it. Just lost the use of me left arm and hearing on one side. Then it came again two years later.” Here, he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “It made off with most of me teeth and left behind all these marks. Oh, and it took me second wife-”

“Let me guess! Was her name also Sarah?” Sarah smiled.

“No, but, hee hee! It would be funny if she had been! No, she were called Lumpy. We was married only six months so I never learned if she had another name.”

“What a shame.”

“Tis. What of you, Sarah? Tell us your life story.”

“Ah. Well, in a nutshell, I was living with me husband and five children in the mud hut by the chicken yard-”

“The mud and straw hut that floods with chicken shit when it rains?”

“No, it’s the all mud hut that floods with chicken shit. We couldn’t afford the straw.”

“Ah.”

“So I had the plague soon after I was married, that was the first go round. Then it hit us hard again three weeks ago. Thomas died, he was my husband, and then our five sons right in a row. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, and the baby.”

“The youngest Thomas,” Roger smiled.

“Actually, we hadn’t named him yet. He was only a year old and we didn’t want to get attached too quickly.”

“Only natural.”

Sarah smiled. “So, here I find myself in my twilight years. Twenty-two and having to start over. If I can.”

“Awww, we aren’t dead yet. I must be your age or about there. You just live your life as best you can until another plague comes round. Or starvation.”

Sarah laughed. “Aye, can’t forget about starvation. Oh, look. I believe that’s me husband they’re putting on the pyre now,” she said, pointing to a tall body wrapped in cloth. They both watched as the cloth caught fire and began burning away.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Roger said.

“Tis. I expect my sons will be tossed on soon. Oh, yes, here they come.”

“Liz’s mother will be brought out too,” Roger sighed. “It seems like all me friends are dying these days.”

“The bouts of plague come right on the heels of the last one. This is a new one, they tell us. It all seems the same though. Sickness, death, pyre. I’m bloody tired of it.”

“I hear that,” Roger chuckled. “So, seems we both find ourselves single again. What do you say, Sarah? Should we have an understanding?”

She smiled and tilted her head to bat the lashes of her beautiful working eye.

“Don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“Well. I’m happy to share me hut by the pigsty with you. I can promise you that I won’t bathe. Ever. So less chance that I’ll bring an illness into our home-”

“Oooh, that’s good! I’ve never had a bath in me life!” Sarah said enthusiastically. “Probably why I’m still here.”

“Aye, aye,” he nodded. “So what do you think, Sarah? We’re both so old. So bent with aches. We’re past the age of having children and too disfigured to catch many eyes, so we’ll only have to worry about t’other getting the next plague. Why shouldn’t we throw our lot in together and try for some happiness? Why not? I see no reason why we shouldn’t marry.”

Sarah’s blushed. She looked across the table at him, the golden flames throwing a glow across his withered face. She heard the sound of bodies crackling in the fire, creating much-needed warmth in a cold world.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Sarah whispered.

“Is that an aye?” he asked.

“It’s an aye!” she laughed, pointing to her useless milky eye.

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Wishing you and yours a Happy Valentine’s Day. The Giant and I will be spending it at the shooting range. And let me welcome Latvia and Massachusetts. Arkansas, you’ve shown up right on time!

Next week: the disturbing secrets that Arkansas keeps, and culinary horror!