The Thames Cafe

A short story. Young female doctoral student conducts interviews with a retired Captain from Australia for her PhD in Clinical Psychiatry.

The Thames Café (Barking, United Kingdom)

By: DeMaster Thomas

June 2008

...another day at the Thames Cafe...

Student types on her laptop as she prepares for the sit down with Captain. 

Clacking keys: 

Life that is always spent being examined, takes away from life that could be spent living. While examination is important to personal health and wellness, there is ample place and time for this purpose.

Captain starts in on her without warning:

And so there I was standing in the middle of the desert on the hottest day of the year, drowning in a pool of my own existence. What was to become of me? How did I get here? Am I dead? If so, this is definitely hell. If not, this is definitely hell or the divine’s idea of a sick joke. Either way, in order to understand where I was going, I had to go back to the beginning. I had to go back to where it all started. After all, it’s not about where I’m going, it’s about where I want to end up.

This is my daily prayer…the Lord’s Prayer with ad-libitum, which in my temporal existence seemed remedial; a call for the rapture. Yes, only a one-minute period in infinite history; I had concluded humanity had reached its peak; its boiling point of no return and only an incredible art of unconditional fortitude could reprieve such a travesty.  Even if I were correct in my so-called faulty logic, it appeared the only one left standing was I. Oh to loathe one’s own existence merely because fear and shame shadow excellence and the pursuit of greatness; is simply a life left crestfallen.

But enough about me-oh wait. This is about me. The only subject I know everything and nothing about. (He smiles and laughs to himself)

Oh don’t wither your nose at me. As if you are any better. I laugh out loud at the mere thought of such a thing. But I digress. Where was I?  Oh yes. Where it all began. Well, let me see. I guess you could say I was an international bum.  Born in Australia, educated in England and moved to the States on scholarship before most in their country can complete Secondary (eh, heh). Brilliant? Oh yes. I was brilliant alright. Brilliant enough to charm the skivvies off any lad who dared stare Mayfair in the eye without a quiver!

 

Sparkling chap, I was not. To say the least, my vanity was only; literally, only skin deep. Mind me no ugly duckling neither. I could dance, sing, folly with the most and courting was of little effort of somewhat gainful return. I’m only grinning devilishly because the memories are still fresh on my tongue.  The perfumes of so many, the flesh of so much indulgence still gird my loins.  My apologies I…I needed a moment.  Where was I?  Oh yes.  The run of a scam to boot and butterscotch rum, sweetbread and a lil bit of 'how’s your father'.  Ah yes.  Those were the days.  A legend in me own you say? No, not I, said the Captain. I am full! Full of pride! Full of gusto! Full of –

Captain was abruptly interrupted by his aging, nagging wife. Jealous of the student's time and beauty.

 

Oh shut-up you old goat! No one’s talkin’ to the likes of ya! Can’t you see I’m busy? 

Ah, for the love of Pete. I tell you, that woman will be the death of me.  Excuse me for a moment. Please, help yourself to more crisps, cakes, chocs. There’s plenty, eh.

What! Who? What do they want? So what. Tell them we don’t want any and to piss off! Can’t you…

 Excuse me just a moment. I shall be only a breath.

Captain gets up, goes over to another table where his wife is sitting, chatting on her cell phone.

Give me the ringer. (He takes the phone from her hand)

Look. I told you a thousand times over we haven’t got your stinkin’ money so stop calling here and blow it your arse!

Captain sits back down at the table with the charming doctoral student. She is taken aback by his behavior and tone, but does not show it. Composure remains intact. Captain clears his throat and continues.

Oh yes. Yes. Thank you. Damn phone buzzes off the hook by golly. If it’s not the HMRC or a bailiff, it’s someone trying to sell you something.  You mark my word the blooming idiot who invented tele-sales is sitting in hell right now getting bitch slapped by every passer of the gate you mark my word!

Right along with all of the pills of our so-called modern society. Hmph. Donny, Harpo, Billy Buffet of sorts. What say you? His name is Warren? Who cares. You get the point. I am merely speaking of those who I’ve seen profit heavily from our hard-working citizens and give back what apparently seems to be not enough. But I digress.

(The wife is ready to leave)

Oh, I can’t do this now.  Let us meet in the morrow and we shall continue this foreboding fantasy ride into my past forthwith shall we? Okay runner off now. Good evening.

I said – good evening.

````

Understanding now that Captain was a fanatic of his own twopence worth, she was prepared to let him carry on without interruption this time. She continued her interview the next day as planned.

Clacking keys: 

While in the calm of what clearly seemed to be the mind of a deeply disturbed individual, I took these moments of solace to defecate the ill-reputed muses collected over the past couple of hours. It was like watching the flushing run-off of the river Murray back home. He did not know I was also from Australia. He did not ask. So calm on the surface, was the idle of the day, while at the bed, the current rushed over broken rocks and dirt turned to mud and loose sand clogged the veins of my mind at the sight of him. The punishment continues.

So, although as a boy, my imagination was over-active indeed. Still, it found limits. There were limits in pain and even small—well, larger barriers to pleasure. (he corrected himself). Ah, but one thing was for certain. Before I became a master of my own accord in my mental drudgery, I was quite the experimentalist in the “art of entertainment”. Toot! Of the hour, shall I blow my – no, of course not.

No need when the laughter, camaraderie and warm expressions of welcome surround me so. Do you not hear the circus music? See the clowns? Oh, fantastic are the merriments and joyous wonders of boyhood. Laughter and more laughter fill the accolades with love, adoration --- humph. Love.

And with so much joy why then-oh why does my heart beat slowly? How does melancholy find her way to my bed each night. Why does she choose to take my virginity is such an inappropriate manner. Yes, the roses certainly, like they should, bloomed in red and the violets. The violets sung in the melody and bewitched an enchanting blue. But there was no innocence in her reproach. She truly came with an intension and one intension only, to steal from me the only essence of a young boy’s purity – my sexuality.

My age was no more than the number of days in a week. I would say that is probably about how long it took for me to go from merry to archaic. Exploration and discovery of the reproductive functionality is an expedition best served intellectually. After all, what good is it to simply say why does something do this; when I do this? Well, for most of those, also fallen around me, it was more so, who cares, as long as it does what it is supposed to do when it’s supposed to do it? “Do it.” That phrase in-and-of itself was one of so very many euphemisms used to describe such a sacred and undeniably beautiful expression of love.

Warped in our tyrannies of lust, we frolicked in such games as so distastefully called ‘hide and go get it’, ‘kiss and tell’, ‘spin the bottle’, ‘truth or dare’, ‘house’, ‘doctor’…come to think of it, it is as if adult role-playing begins in the youthful banter of mindless touch-and-play. I called them reindeer games. With ages ranging from eight to thirteen. And most certainly at that tender of an age, that thing you want to be exposed to is misadjusted, misguided, miscreants who have little or less knowledge of consequences as you do. But then hindsight is always a size twelve to fourteen. Eh-hem. I mean twenty-twenty.

(Student appeared engaged, but glazed in thought...)

  

(Captain continued)

There were upbringings of strappers and fairs alike. Not the likes of such boarding school back camp behavior. Justifying our behavior with excuses at this stage only entertains rationalization without reason. We were children alone in the secret garden too long. With prepubescence a thing of the past, the gateway had already ingested in my subconscious. Promiscuous pleasure of self and others from those moments, offered up a buffet of exacerbated opportunities. Often so, I reflect on those years of hormonal explosion and wonder if I had made different decisions. If I had chosen another path of physical emotional enlightenment, where would I be today? How would my life have been different? The teen years? Young adulthood? Could taboo have been left without ado?

 

I most certainly would argue that my destination would have been altered. Restraints you ask? Sure, there were restraints: the practice of social discretion, the play of innocence in the company of adults, and the remission of sin in the eyes of good. Most certainly we kept our discretion. Boy on girl. Boy on boy. Girl on girl on boy. And the combos continued. All are experiences sealed in my memory. Struggle within consumes the very core of my being and modern technology feeds my mandates with limited rage but the broken promise of limitless power, it’s burning, it’s hurting, it’s flushing my face! The blood flushes the erogenous zones. Oh my! I can feel it! The sweet seducing aftertaste of her discharge and saliva drips down my chin onto her chest. Her breasts pound with feverish syncopation as the sweat dances on her backside. Ah the skies of a man-made heaven full of empty dreams suddenly open up her golden gates and then!

 

An ever so subtle break in reality into a warm rushing river of psycho-synergy pours over our bodies like warm cozy blankets of chocolate and pure grape wine on a cold New Hampshire night in front of a responsive crackling fire. It is as if the universe sang her song just for you and then for a sweet moment all is right with the world. Heaven and earth could come and go and you feel like this bliss would never fade. But then, as quick as it comes is as quick as it goes.

A family that plays are memories that stay. Damned are my eyes for some of the things I witnessed from family growing up. I have seen my parents in questionable positions with their lovers; I have seen them in their own indulgence as well as in their own care. Not that knowledge of feminine hygiene should not be taught in the home but I could have lived without the visual aid. A simple open discussion with tactful understanding would have sufficed.

Nonetheless if bearing witness to your mother’s personal care leaves you with a certain safeguard for all things in a state of resemblance. Ergo dating may or may not...

(At this moment, Student got up from her seat at the table, flushed with blushing rose in her face, a small wet spot in the seat of her skirt and said, "Oh, I can’t do this now. Why don’t we...no, I have what I need...no need to meet tomorrow.  Thank you for your time, it was quite a ride of fantasy, I, I mean, a fantastic ride...okay, I'll run off now, good day!

I said--good day! 

And with that, she gathered her items and quickly left the café, forever changed.

Captain sat back in his seat, sipped his drink, looked at the server and said, just another day at the Thames Café, eh?