Demon Stories

Josephine: Serendipity of the Lily, 1948, NYC

Josephine

Serendipity of the Lily

1948, New York City

On an overcast summer morning, I found myself walking along the flower district on West 28th street with my very best friend in the world. We strolled along hand in hand, his large hand over mine. I was carrying an abundant bouquet of white tiger lilies against my chest, and thinking about what had occurred this morning to bring us here, sighing in the coincidence and craziness of it all. 

"I wear pants?" 

The feminine, heavily Puerto Rican accented voice seemed inquisitive, but it was too early in the morning for me to make sense of it. I just rolled over in the bed.

"Pants or skirt?"

"Hmmm?" I purred, too sleepy to say anything else.

"You look. Pants or polka dot? Is too night time or day?"

Night time? But it was morning. My eyes drifted closed.

"Escúcheme!" The pretty voice was laughing now. "Oh, how do you say...English. Ah... Hear me!" 

Two heavy, elegant hands fell on my shoulder and wiggled it. "Cle~mentine," it sang lightly. "Oh, my darling Cle~mentine."

I purred again. The warm breath from a beautiful Puerto Rican mouth was near my ear. "Is waking up time, my darling Clementine," whispered the lovely voice. 

I rolled over again, and my eyes opened to a beautiful picture. The slightly tanned skin, the dewy freshness of the morning shower still upon him, his long dark brown wavy bangs falling into his eyes. The black doorway framed him as a piece of art, the coincidence so serendipitious. 

I adored him.

"Good morning, Crystal my dear," I whispered in scratchy sleepiness.

"Good morning, my darling Clementine," he greeted softly, kissing my cheek. To this, I cupped his face and just held it there, staring at him. His eyes sparkled in twinkling love. 

"What was your question, my sweet?" I asked. 

"Clothes," he smiled. 

"Ah, yes," I nodded, and let him go. He made his way off the combined twin beds by the strength his knees, and picked up the two items off the end and held them up, as apparently he'd been doing for some time.

"Blue polka dot skirt or blue pants?" he asked, holding up a pretty, spring-like knee-length skirt and a pair of long light cotton trousers. 

"Where are you going?" I asked. 

This was an important question. You see, among friends he could dress however he wanted. Our friends were accepting of our wearing women's clothes, as they did as well. If he were meeting them for coffee or such at one of their places it wasn't so much of a big deal to wear a skirt. He could hop into a cab and go there straight away. However, if he were going shopping or to a movie that was an entirely different matter.