William sat on the bench.
The bench was old, the weather had stained it every way it could be stained, although human beings and pigeons had done the rest. It was cracked, the wood a dirty gray contrasting to the mottled iron frame that held it all together.
It was a good bench. William like this bench. He had been coming to this bench for the last 20-some-odd years since his wife had died. Nothing tragic, just getting old really. Things start to break down, sickness comes and goes, and sometimes it just forgets to go. So it takes your wife with it. William was pretty open about his life if anyone ever asked, but most folks didn’t. Most folks just went on with their busy lives and William sat on his bench watching the world speed by with all its comings and goings.
He dressed the same everyday, and matched his bench in many ways too. His suit was old, but serviceable. His shoes shined, although they had cracks at the soles. His socks were darned by his own hands while watching the news after dinner. His hat was newer, and carried a small pin at its base, a pin his late wife had given him 50 years ago before they had gotten married.
Her name was Louisa. Although everyone called her Louise. She didn’t mind. William always called her Lee anyway. And she called him Willy. Even when they had their fights, Willy always carried a note of something silly. A pet name that was a secret between them. A shared something that started at the beginning of their relationship, and growing like a vine, creeped its way through their lives from the start under the ferris wheel, to the end, under the blinking lights of another kind.
A deep love, William would say, if anyone asked. But no one ever did. It was his own fault in a way. He hadn’t wanted children, but there is nothing wrong with that. Lee never wanted kids either, but William always thought she was lying. He caught her looking at babies sometimes… a far away, wistful look that some people get remembering a fond time in their childhood or when they finally made it to the ocean. A thing, far away, not sure what it is, but knowing you kind of want it again. Whether you had or not.
William shook his head morosely, he was feeling morbid today. Lee was happiness and joy most of the time, he missed her. Today William wore a heavy coat, winter had almost arrived, and the snow had not gotten the memo yet. It had started to come down while it was clearly fall still. The leaves were still orange, many clung jealously to their trees, their bark covered worlds, and watched the heavy flakes float past like William did.
He pulled some bread out of his pocket and started tearing it into small chunks that the birds would fight over, if they did at all. Most of the time the fattest bird just waddled the others out of the way and ate it all. He called that bird Hugglemonster. Because with the waddling, and the shoving, it was giving all the other pigeons hugs. Spin the ugly into something good. No Hugglemonster today though, no birds at all. Too cold for them, but not too cold for the old man on the bench. He tore the bread up anyway and tossed it into the snow. They would get it eventually. Waddling through the snow, some fat bird would come.
People kept their heads down, headed to work or home or to some where warm. The women huddled into themselves, the men cowered under the promise of shoveling their walks and the water damage to their dress shoes. Students, obviously truant, didn’t bother hollering at each other, just ran off to whomever’s house was closest. The snow was thicker now. Not pummelling the earth heavy flakes, just a soft drifting fall that ended up in piles faster than the eager wind could blow it away. William tossed another bit of bread out to the snow.
The world slowed for a mere moment. People walked more slowly, pushing into this pocket of time. William watched the wind push against people, pushing the snow into their faces and down their collars, making light of the fact that most people were miserable in weather like this. Goes against their nature. Nature against nature. Funny that, thought William. The cold didn’t bother him, he dressed warmly enough, and he was so old, the cold tended to ignore him anyway.
The crunching in the detritus of leaves and snow behind him perked up his ears, but he didn’t bother lifting his head. It was probably a mailman or lawyer or nurse cutting across the park to get to their destination. He just tore at the bread slowly and deliberately, marking the passing seconds as the feet found their future told point upon the ground and pressed the snow into itself, folding water and leaf into a strange origami that would melt soon enough.
“Beautiful day, don’t you think?” He felt the words cross the world to him, slowly drifting, like the snow, settling on the bench next to him, with a creak and groan.
“I suppose,” William smiled, still looking at his gloved hands tearing at the bread. “If one likes that sort of thing.”
“I love it. The trees, the wind, the snow. Look at all these people, scurrying about… at least the voles in the park have enough sense to sleep in today. Who is the bread for?” The bench creaked again, the weight of his unnamed visitor settling it in some odd way the bench wasn’t prepared for.
“For the birds.” William smiled widened.
“There aren’t any birds.” The voice had sounded old, but now it sounded younger. Shifting like the weather, the seasons.
William looked up and say a young man sitting on the bench, his feet kicked out in front of him, barefoot. His toes were long and lean, well calloused soles, and the pants that were almost not. The hems were a full couple inches above his ankles. The absurdity continued as his eyes worked their way up the stranger’s legs, the pants were like dress pants of some by gone era, made for a young lad riding a horse, cropped and slender. The jacket was like a riding uniform too… except the sleeves were rolled up to the stranger’s elbows. The boy was looking into the sky, the snowflakes falling slowly onto his shaggy grayish hair, bits of leaves and branches stuck here and there.
“There aren’t any birds,” he repeated himself not looking at William. “They seem to be keeping the voles company.”
“I suppose.” William stammered. “Aren’t your feet cold, young man?”
“Not at all. The cold ignores them. I watched you watching people for a little while, I hope you don’t mind. Can I ask what you are looking for?” The snow was caressing the stranger, not sticking to his skin, just landing and then sliding slowly off to the side, falling onto his shoulders like soft sand.
“Just watching them come and go. Remembering my life, really. Just remembering being busy. Its comforting. Life has a way of just becoming a haze, a fog that we just wander through. In a rush to get through it, but never really understanding that the fog is where we are supposed to be. Maybe. Something like that.”
“No that makes sense. I like it.”
“Not that you would know about things like that being so young. Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Ha! You are funny too! My name is Jim.” The boy turned his head, still cocked towards the sky and made eye contact with William. His eyes were startling blue, deeper than the sky, wide as an ocean. Azure.
“My name is William.” William offered his hand, and Jim shook it merrily reaching across his chest, his head still lolling with a kind smile across his face. Jim was young, probably not even eighteen yet, his skin was smooth and flawless, like an overnight snow covering the world in white. His skin on his hand was smooth as well, but the grip was warm and firm. William shook it twice as formally as he could.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. William.” He turned his head back towards the sky and sighed softly. “I am not in school. Haven’t been for a very long time.”
“No parents? No family?” William asked.
“At one time. Not so much any more. My family is a bit… different now.”
“Passed on? I can understand that. My wife has been gone for 20 years now… it is different, but it doesn’t feel like it has changed much. I still miss her. They never really leave, you see. They are still with us, we just can’t see them.”
“Yeah. That is true.” Jim smiled at the sky. “My mother is still around, I just don’t see her much… she is busy most of the time. My dad… well he is sleeping.”
“Sleeping? Interesting thing to call it.” William gruffed.
“It just happens to be the truth. My father can’t die. The world would end if he did.”
“Now, Mr. Jim, I may be old, but I am not gullible.” William winked.
“Hear me out. What if? What if my dad was just sleeping?” Jim scratched his neck, his fingers were long and delicate, much like his toes.
“And where would he be sleeping?” William asked, the bread forgotten in his lap. His fingers curled around themselves, forgotten as well.
“Under a mountain.” Jim laughed.
“So he is dead?”
“No, just sleeping. He is man of so much life, he helped start the world.”
“And your mother is… what… a fairy?” William jested, not letting his strange guest get the best of him.
“No, not a fairy. An elf.”
“Right. An elf.” William know knew he was being made fun of. But the young man was very entertaining. Despite himself he was having fun with it. Better than watching the non-existant birds or the rushing people still passing on by without a glance at William and Jim on their precipice at the edge of winter.
“She is. A very old Elf too. A dryad of the eastern sun. One of the few left. The world is so… very old.”
“And your father under the mountain? A goblin? A dwarf?”
Jim laughed merrily. “Not at all! How strange you think. He is the rock. He is earth. He is the foundation of the world, the turtle of the earth, the demigod holding it upon his shoulders. Combine all of that, and you get close to describing my father. He is a titan, asleep since the world decided to grow up.”
“And that would make you? A child of an elf and a mountain?” William smiled at his strange guest.
“I am what I am. Just a nip at your nose.”
That phrase stuck in William’s ear, lodged sideways, making him remember something from his childhood. Jack Frost nipping at your nose? Something like that?
“I get the name.” William admitted.
“Do you now?” Jim stood from the bench and flourished with a bow. “Pleased to meet you! Now, come with walk with me. Let me show you the world, William Ableton.”
“Funny, I never told you my last name.” William puzzled.
“You didn’t have too.” Jim said. “My mother told me. Time for a great adventure, William.”
“To where?”
“To where ever the wind takes us. To lands of dragons and knights, to worlds of crystal and stone, to places where the earch is young and the lines of the universe have not been drawn. Where ever we please!” Jack smiled and jumped lightly to one side.
“I must decline, Mr. Frost. I am… old.” William frowned.
“Nonsense. Your wife wasn’t old when I met her at this bench. She still isn’t.” Jim smiled.
“My… what? What did you just say? How did you know my wife came here? To feed the birds… the birds. The silly birds. Did you know, Jim, that I actually hate birds? But Lee… she loved them. Adored them. Even the fat ones.”
“She is waiting for us, Mr. William. Come. Let’s have an adventure.” Jim put out his hand placatingly.
“Hrmph. I think I am about ready for an adventure. Screw the pigeons.” William reached up and took the sprite’s hand. The wind blew, the snow swirled, and the bread laid forgotten on the snow at the front of the empty bench.
People paid no mind.