Persistence Of Vision

Book summary

Gerry Eugene's 'Persistence of Vision' is a captivating collection of twenty-five interrelated short stories, spanning from the stone age to the present. These tales traverse the globe, offering glimpses into vengeful gods, aliens with death rays, treasure hunts, and a kaleidoscope of adventures that include time travel, zombies, mob wars, and broken hearts.

Excerpt from Persistence Of Vision

Shawn Meadows often woke up too early. Today was no exception. He was in the Jameson hotel, and there were not many ways to fight tedium at four in the morning. He was lonely, incredibly lonely. Airplanes and airports exhausted him; nevertheless, he could not sleep. There was no space in his tiny room to pace around. He got dressed and rode the elevator down to the lobby.

Now, in mid-June, the sun rose early over the mountains. To the west, Venus and the Moon raced toward the choppy surface of the sea. On the sidewalk outside the lobby door, Shawn could almost taste the ocean in the air. It mixed with the stink of the city. Even this early, the alleyways and boulevards streamed with delivery and garbage trucks. Early gulls and pigeons hopped toward him on the almost-dark street. Already, three homeless men were coming for him, two from the left and one from the right. To escape them, Shawn walked directly across the street and into the first business open with its lights on, Jake’s Café.

When he pushed the door open, a chime sounded. Inside, the café was quiet. The aroma of coffee, cinnamon, butter, and maple syrup carried him to a happier time. There were six booths and four tables, as well as five stools at the counter. Shawn chose a stool, the one farthest from the door and affording a good view of the interior. The kitchen was in the dining room, and customers were able to watch the cook prepare the meals.

An impossibly handsome man in jeans and tee shirt approached from the other side of the counter. He held a place setting. Shawn felt dizzy when he saw the man smile. The handsome man set a paper napkin, fork, and spoon on the counter. He reached under the counter for a menu and placed it, too, in front of Shawn. Next from under the counter, he withdrew a cup, saucer, and coffee pot. His hair was clean, trimmed, and tousled. His hands were scrubbed. He wore black jeans, white shirt, and white jacket. He smelled like soap. His eyes were scary-blue.

“Care for coffee?”

“Yes! Thanks.”

“Staying at the Jameson?”

“Yeah. A layover. Decided to hang around your city for an extra day. I’ll fly out tomorrow afternoon. Are you Jake?”

“Me? No! Jake was my granddad. He started this place sixty years ago. I’m Carl.” Carl filled Shawn’s cup and placed the pot back on its warmer under the counter.

“I’m Shawn. Pleased to meet you. I’m glad you’re open. Those street guys had me targeted out there. Swear to God they were triangulating me. This must be killing your business.”

“My family owns this building and the buildings adjacent to it. The rents keep us afloat, just barely, but as tourists choose to stay away, people are wary of starting a business. Everyone is scared to rent a storefront downtown in San Francisco, and I don’t blame them.”

“If you turn on those blue headlights, the street guys will run off. Just kidding. Your eyes are beautiful.”

Shawn stopped talking. He had embarrassed himself. What made him say that last bit? Deprived of Jason, he felt deprived of his judgement, too.

Carl said, “I’ve got Scandinavians on both sides of the family.” He unleashed a devastating smile. “Are you in town for a convention?”

“No, sadder than that.” Shawn picked up his cup and touched it to his lips, then set it down again. He looked at the Formica of the counter. “My partner died of covid a year ago last March. He grew up on Whidbey Island and wanted me to consign his ashes to Puget Sound. Jason loved fishing there. I’m just heading home now. I’m in no hurry to return to reality.” Shawn risked looking up at Carl.

“Oh, you poor man!”

“Thanks. I don’t know why I’m telling you this stuff.”

“Talk all you want, Shawn. I’ll listen. Do you want breakfast?”

“Sure. Waffle and eggs sound good, with bacon. Sunny side up.”

Carl turned, took a small tumbler from the shelf, filled it halfway with ice from the cooler, and topped it off with water. He set it on the counter in front of Shawn. His hand brushed Shawn’s wrist. Shawn’s breath caught just the slightest bit. Carl smiled at him.

“You want toast or English muffin?”

“English muffin. Trying to figure out what to do today. I’m thinking maybe the public aquarium. The international district might be fun. But I’ll probably wander off searching for the art museum. I can’t do everything in one day.” Shawn gestured toward the Jameson. “A flyer in the lobby said the Monet show is in town.”

Carl smiled. “Monet! I wrote my senior thesis on Monet! Was there ever a better painter?”

Shawn sat up straighter, feeling the tiniest bit happy for the first time in months. He said, “I lecture in art history. The Monet unit took up a big part of my thoughts this semester. So cool you like him, too.”

Carl said, “The San Francisco museum’s not far. About eight blocks, and none of it uphill. Today’s Saturday. They open the doors at nine. The lines will be long.”

“Wow. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I buy a season’s pass every year. The museum might be the single best perk we’ve got.”

Shawn admitted to himself he had a wild crush on this man at Jake’s café. Carl’s body looked delicious. He was not too tall and not too heavy. He had a swimmer’s body and seemed to be Shawn’s age, about thirty. He liked art. He possessed sympathy. He owned city real estate. And his blue eyes shone like sapphires.

Carl turned and set to work making Shawn’s breakfast. Shawn watched him crack eggs onto the grill and pour batter into the waffle iron. Carl set half-cooked bacon on the griddle under a press. As he worked, he said over his shoulder, “Did you take time off work for this trip?”

“No. I’m off until September seventeenth. I decided not to teach this summer.”

Carl drew a glass of milk from the cooler and set it in front of Shawn. “You didn’t order this, but I thought you might like it with the waffle.”

“Thanks!”

Outside, the clouds were heavy and fog rolled in from the bay, making the morning slow to arrive. Carl topped off Shawn’s coffee. Shawn was tempted to touch Carl’s hand. He did not. Below the shelves for glasses and cups was a segment of mirrors extending along the wall. In the mirrors, Shawn could see through the windows behind him. He could not see the homeless men.

Shawn said, “So you arrive here early and open up. You don’t stay here until closing, do you?”

“No way! Most days I leave at two when the dinner staff shows up. A dishwasher will be here in an hour. Until then, it’s just you and me.” Carl smiled at Shawn. He said, “Today I’m lucky. My niece and her husband are coming in early, so I get a bit of a break.”

“That’s great! Do you have a lot planned?”

“Nope. No plans. Same-o, same-o.” Carl turned from the grill, holding two plates. He set them down in from of Shawn.

Shawn discovered he was hungry. He shoveled in the food, loving it. Carl said, “I went to college and graduated, but tell me, what does a lecturer do?”

“Same as a professor, but for a quarter of the pay.”

Carl laughed. “Figures. Seems like every path we choose gets turned against us, you know?” He patted Shawn on the shoulder. Shawn nearly burst into tears. When had a human last touched him on purpose?

Carl turned back to the grill. He spooned some oil onto the surface and scraped at the grill with the side of his spatula. Shawn realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled and said, “Well, I think I’ll go to see the Monet exhibit this afternoon, and I was wondering if—”

Shawn saw Carl gaze intently out the window. The door chimed. Shawn looked at the mirror in front of him. In it, he saw that a woman stood between the door and cash register. She looked spectacular, like a cover girl on the front of a magazine. She was tall and stunning. Carl said, “Anne.”

“Carl,” the beautiful woman said, smiling. “How you doing?” Carl stepped around the counter into the dining room. He walked up to Anne and took her in his arms. He pressed his lips against hers, and he pressed his body against her body. Anne looked happy. She was smiling.

In the mirror, Shawn saw Carl hold Anne at arm’s length and look at her. “Oh, Anne,” Carl said. “You are more beautiful than ever.”

Shawn pushed the last of the waffle into his mouth. He forced the last of the bacon in after it. He poured his milk into his coffee. He used that to wash down the last of his breakfast. It was flavorless. He looked down, pretending not to listen. In fact, he did not want to listen.

Carl said, “Anne, I think about you every day. Do you still carry the house key?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“You always make me a happy man. Can you be there at one?”

“You bet, baboo. I’ll be in your house, waiting for you. In fact, when I leave here, I’ll go straight over to your place. In the meantime, could a girl get a donut?”

Shawn dropped a ten and a five on the counter. In three strides he was out the door. Rain fell. Wind blew the rain directly into his face, directly into his wet eyes that were burning. The homeless men backed away from him. What did they recognize?

Shawn stood drenched on the curb outside the lobby of his hotel. Only one sob escaped him. He rubbed his hands across his face. He went inside.