Invitation: One
He turned the card over several times, inspecting it, smelling it, looking for traces of sarcasm embedded in the ink. He found none.
Of course, the funny thing is that he knew it would be like this. He knew that risking his life and spending all of that money to fly across the country to a place he'd never even heard of would end badly; but there was never any question: he had to go. Not going was simply not possible. Something like this had never happened to him before, and this act, this one act was going to be the recompense for anything and everything he'd never done. There was a pull to Boston that had throbbed in his stomach, throat, eyes and bowels ever since he received that letter in the mail. It was addressed simply: "Mr. Hanover." There was no return address. It simply showed up one day.
"The honor of your presence is requested at the Wonder Bar in Boston, Massachusetts on March the twenty-ninth, two thousand and four at nine in the evening, sharp. Bring twenty dollars."
And that was it. He turned the card over several times, inspecting it, smelling it, looking for traces of sarcasm embedded in the ink. He found none. It was the first of March, 2003.
Mr. Hanover lived alone in a cinder-block house the size of most living rooms. In the corner closest to the door were his electric range, sink, and microwave. In the corner opposite stood a discolored thirteen inch television stacked precariously on top of a bar stool with a single chair facing it. His bed was behind a curtain, scrupulously well-made. He had four pairs of socks. The toilet was in an add-on outside.
Every night he sat staring at the invitation; every night burning with curiosity; every night turning it over and over in his hands until the edges frayed and the crisp, white paper dulled. The allure was overwhelming; it got so that he did nothing most of the time. The television had not been turned on for weeks. Wars were waged, countries enflamed. Mr. Hanover knew nothing of worldly events. He quietly bought his bread and milk and dreamed the dreams of one ensnared by hope of change.
continued in Invitation: Two