David Williams, 1944

**Ok, I'm, still in the process of editing this, but I thought I'd let the world see it anyway. Enjoy!**
         Every Sunday afternoon following church, I would go to my Aunt Vicky’s house. I helped her with various chores: laundry, cooking, and cleaning. This particular Sunday we planned to do some cleaning in her attic. I walked up Aunt Vicky’s porch and knocked on the door. She didn’t like the buzzers much. Instead, she preferred the brass doorknockers. She had always been like that, trying to preserve her past; explaining the much needed cleaning in her attic.
         Aunt Vicky opened the door. She stood there smiling, so happy to get a visitor. Aunt Vicky didn’t have children because she never married. I don’t know why. In fact, no one knew except for her. Instead, she opened a small tea shop in her own house and became so busy by her work that she claimed that she didn’t need the extra responsibility of a family.
         She let me in and offered something to drink. We sat in her small lounge and had tea with crumpets. We shared a short conversation on our week. Then we headed up to the attic.
         The attic was dusty and dim. Aunt Vicky walked around to make sure everything was in its place. She stooped to open a box. I scanned the room and found a cedar hope chest with her initials carved in it. I kneeled down and opened the chest. Inside were neatly folded blankets, dolls, and a photo album. Curious, I took the album and opened it. There were dozens of pictures matted on the cream-colored paper. Each had a name and date under it. I flipped through each page, recognizing names and younger versions of the faces I knew. As I came closer to the end, I noticed a picture that wasn’t matted to a page. It was a black-and-white photo of a young man standing at the edge of the ship. He was a typical tall, dark, and handsome. He had a shy smile and his eyes squinted from the bright sun.
         I turned the picture over, flipped through the pages, but found no trace of a name. Puzzled, I called to Aunt Vicky.
         “Who is this bloke?” I asked her.
         She shuffled to my spot and slowly sat herself down. She put on her glasses to examine the picture. She grew very quiet. I looked at her, then the picture, then her again.
         “Well?” I prompted her.
         Vicky removed her glasses and sighed. Then she replied, “This is a young man I knew when I was a few years younger than you are. His name was David Williams.”

* * *

         It was October of 1944. Aunt Vicky was working at an accountant’s office in London. One day she came home and found her best friend, Anne, waiting by the steps for her. She appeared anxious, grinning from ear to ear. She told Vicky that she found them dates for that night. Although Vicky was upset about being set-up on a date with an unknown man, she reluctantly agreed to go.
         That night, she and Anne walked to the restaurant. She saw two men standing under a light pole, sharing a cigarette, chuckling. Anne grabbed Vicky’s arm and said excitedly, “There they are!”
         “Great,” was all Vicky could say.
         The guys must have noticed the girls walking towards them, because they immediately put out the cigarette and changed their attitude.
         “The one to your left is your date,” Anne whispered.
         Vicky admitted that he was tall and good-looking, but she wasn’t too thrilled. He walked towards her with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a jacket and a slight smile with a scarf thrown around his neck.
         “Hi, you must be Vicky,” he said.
         “Yes, I am,” she replied.
         “Well, I’m David,” he said as he took her arm.
         They walked down the street. In front of them were Anne and David’s friend, talking and laughing. Vicky wished for her date to say something. Anything would be nice.
T          hey walked down to a restaurant at the corner of a street. It wasn’t the most popular place, but it was still nice. They slid into a window booth. After ordering their food, Anne said, “Vicky and I need to go to the loo. We’ll          be back in a few minutes.”
They got up and walked to the restroom. The moment they stepped in, Anne began talking about David’s friend, John, non-stop. When she asked her about David, all Vicky said was, “He seems nice.” She pulled out some scarlet lipstick and spread it on.
         Anne encouraged Vicky to talk with him, just so that she’d have a reason to go out with John again. Vicky didn’t really like the idea of being used as a third wheel, just so that Anne’s father would allow her to go out.

* * *

         The rest of the night was a bit of a blur to Vicky. In fact, all she remembers is that she agreed to see David again.
         The next day, Vicky went unaccompanied to the local cinema. David was supposed to join her for a matinee. She stood a few feet away from the ticket booth, not sure whether to pay or to wait for David. After five minutes, she walked to the booth.
         “One, please.” The employee opened her palm for money, holding the ticket in the other. Vicky began to open her purse, then heard feet pounding on the street behind her.
         “Two, please.” David was standing right behind her, panting and trying to catch his breath. The employee again opened her palm for money. David reached in his pocket and fished out enough for two tickets. The coins clinked in her hand and she handed him the tickets. He took a deep breathe, then said, “Sorry I’m late. The guys (pant), the guys kept me longer than they should have.”
         “It’s okay,” Vicky said. “Let’s watch the picture show. I heard it’s good.”
         They walked inside. Not too many people were there. David led Vicky to a row of seats in the middle of the cinema. They watched cartoons, news, and finally, the movie.
         They talked through most of it. Afterwards, they walked outside. The sun was beginning to set, which gave an orange tint to the sky. David put his hands in his pockets and looked away.
         “Well, I’d better be going now,” Vicky said, looking up at David. He volunteered to walk her home.
         When they got to her house fifteen minutes later, Vicky reached for the doorknob and realized David was still standing behind her. “Good night,” she said and quickly shook his hand. Looking surprised, David stared at Vicky for a moment, hesitated, then asked her to go out with him again. “Alright,” she said and closed the door behind her.

* * *

         After several months of dating, David asked Vicky to meet him at the cinema they always went to. He said that he had something special for her.
         Vicky stood outside by the ticket booth waiting for David. She clutched her purse. It was 3 o’clock and David was already fifteen minutes late. She sat on a nearby bench facing the street. She watched people and vehicles pass. Down the street, a string quartet played a piece by Benjamin Britten.
         To help the time pass, Vicky opened and read a letter she received from her friend Anne. Anne had moved to America to be with John when he returned. Vicky couldn’t believe she left, but decided that if Anne was happy, then she was too.
After awhile, Vicky began to get hungry. She quickly ran across the street for a cup of tea and some biscuits. She returned to the bench, not wanting to miss David.
         Vicky looked at her watch and saw that it was 4:30. She sat back on her bench. She watched some men and women start on their way home. They sky slowly grew to an overcast. She watched a mother and son walk their dog. It grew darker.
         By the time it was 5 o’clock, Vicky decided to go home. She had just wasted two hours waiting for David, but he never showed up. It wasn’t like him to go back on his word like that. Maybe I was supposed to meet him next Tuesday, Vicky thought. It had to be just a simple misunderstanding. She walked home alone.
         The next week, Vicky found herself sitting on the bench again. She looked at her watch. It was 5 o’clock. She decided to wait for just a few more minutes. She swung her feet nervously and looked down each side of the street. She bit her lip, stood up, and walked home.

* * *

         I looked at Aunt Vicky as she said this and it was so sad to watch her. A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away.
         “He never showed up,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to him or what kept him from seeing me. However, I received a letter from Anne a few months later. She wrote to me that David told John that he wanted to marry me. But I don’t know how true that was.
         “I have no regrets though,” she continued with a slight smile. “I went on with my life, had a successful business, and now I’m happily retired.”
         Aunt Vicky steadied herself back on her feet then hobbled back to the box she was originally looking in. I looked at the picture of David. I went downstairs to get some photo corners and a pen. I walked back upstairs. I placed the picture on a blank page of the album and under it I wrote, David Williams, 1944.