Baril de Singes [Barrel of Monkeys]

  ***

  There is an intangible to the New England fall air, particularly in the earliest days of autumn and especially in the predawn hour before sunrise. The atmosphere is crisp and cool, clean and ripe, as clear as it shall ever be. And as lucid as that is, there lies within it a trace of decay indicating a season is turning, that leaves shall fade from their life-color of green and eventually crumble to dirt on the forest floor. Despite the natural desire to hold it in place, a fine grain of time trickles through one's fingers. With the mind busily occupied, a warm August suddenly tempers to a cool September. Such a blend of acute clarity and change was that which filled me as I held Angel close as we stood on the portico steps.

  "It's ironic we're two early birds," she said, half-yawning with a smile.

  "I'm quite glad we had the opportunity to explore such common ground," I replied, trying to summon something romantic to say not involving the phrase 'vaginal oscillation'.

  "Your performance last evening was fantastic."

  "Thanks, dear woman. I place all credit to the great direction given."

  "I wasn't talking about the play, silly man," she replied, draping her arms around my shoulders.

  "Neither was I."

  Our embrace was passionate and our squishy kiss of an enjoyable length due, in part, to our mutual desire for brushing away bed breath within minutes of rising. I could not imagine a more perfect partner for myself and wondered if Angel contemplated the same.

  "Ahem." Smudgely appeared, employing a disinterested tone from behind and above us. "Mrs. Potsdam prepared a large green tea and some breakfast snacks for your ride to the airport, Miss Angel."

  "Thank you, Smudgely. You're so thoughtful." Angel accepted the recycled paper cup and bag from the mindful valet.

  "And, sir, you will find a cup of tea next to your riding helmet in the garage."

  "There comes no finer than yourself, my good man."

  "Your ride, ma'am, should be here no later than six, as requested."

  We waited for Smudgely to recede into the Manor before embracing once again, nearly spilling Angel's tea in the process and having a good laugh over our clumsiness afterward.

  "I'll be in Africa through next spring. Working on setting up the orphanages I told you about. Please stay in touch, Baron."

  "I will. Promise." I took both her hands, holding them within my grasp. "I'm gaining in proficiency with e mails. Beyond that," my voice trailed off as the phrase 'vaginal oscillation' began its climb up my throat.

  "Think about this. Maybe we can meet in the Azores over the holidays. Yes?"

  "That would be grand. I'd also like to help with your endeavors. Organizing displaced children and all."

  "It's dangerous there, Baron."

  "I think I've proven my mettle when facing disagreeable predicaments."

  "That you have," she said, planting a short kiss on my lips. "And there would be nothing quite so special as making love to you during an African sunrise."

  "Agreed," I replied, wishing I wore an ascot I could tug on at that very moment. "The sunset would be equally as nice, I'm sure. The midday sun? Maybe not so much."

  "Baron!" Angel grinned while stroking my face. "I can never tell if you're being serious."

  "I shall never divulge such information, either." I gave her a brief kiss just as the hum of a motor engine wound around the gradual curve approaching the cul-de-sac. "A Prius for corporate transport? Angel, I'm duly impressed."

  "We must all do our part to conserve, Baron, including those in the Loo." She hugged me one last time as her driver loaded her luggage into the trunk. "Think about that the next time you're driving to Shadrack's in that old Packard of yours."

  "I shall only then think of you, my dear." I kissed her hand while assisting her into the backseat. "Please be careful in and around the savannas, right? I understand hyenas, like llamas, can be embittered and ornery."

  "You as well. You're a good man, Baron von dek Horn."