Page 40 of Theo of Golden

Your portrait, with all its details, are quite beautiful. I am an old man. I will be wearing a green hat.

I look forward to meeting you.

Sincerely,

Theo

Even so simply written, the letter, Theo thought, might be too difficult or possibly intimidating for the unconventional recipient. He was pleased to learn that Shep had not only delivered the letter but also read and explained it to her. She clearly understood it and had only asked Shep to clarify the date and time she was to be at the Fedder. Shep was cautiously optimistic that Ellen would show up and more than a little interested in how the introduction might unfold.

In anticipation of the meeting, Theo spent considerable time studying the woman’s portrait. Her head tilted slightly forward and down, as if reluctant to look into the camera, as if trying not to be noticed. There was a bashfulness about her attempted smile but clearly, hers was a face that had suffered loss. It bore the road wear and troubling scars of hard-fought survival. The eyes — heavy lids above and flaccid circles below — were tired and unfocused and, even on the page, seemed to be darting about. The skin on her face was furrowed, a swath of corduroy from crown to neck. Her bottom lip protruded, bulldoggish, beyond her upper lip and hinted that she might be missing teeth. Her hair, pulled back and held in place by some hidden means, was wiry and windblown, rebellious against any efforts toward grooming. A bandana hung loosely around her neck.

Theo questioned the wisdom of his decision to give her a portrait — where would she even keep such a thing? — but as the time for their meeting approached, he found himself anticipating this bestowal more eagerly than any of the previous ones.

He had scheduled his appointment with Ellen for four o’clock assuming that ample daylight would lessen any apprehension she might feel about meeting a stranger.

The afternoon was cloudy with a chance of rain — another reason she might not show — but Theo put on his hat, grabbed his large umbrella, and walked to the rendezvous.

As he approached the Fedder a full half hour before the designated time, he saw her. She was already sitting on the bench, her bicycle within arm’s reach.

If Theo had arrived two hours earlier, he might have witnessed her arrival at the fountain. He would have seen her riding her bicycle, barefoot, from the direction of the Mission. He would have also seen her walk the bicycle to the Fedder, remove a pair of knee-length socks and red high-heel shoes from one of her several plastic bags, and sit to put them on. He would have noticed that she looked around frequently as the clock inched toward four.

The Ellen that Theo finally did see as he approached their meeting was far different from the one in the portrait.

She was wearing a dress, one that she had carefully chosen from the clothing pantry at a homeless shelter. It was the color of wheat, no doubt some wealthy donor’s act of charity, that buttoned at the neck and reached just below her knees. A scarf with a floral motif, bright reds and golds, was draped around her neck and across her shoulders. She was a kaleidoscope whose every movement brought a shifting pattern of color. She was also wearing thick layers of rouge and cherry-red lipstick and a peacock-blue wide-brimmed velvet hat. It might have been elegant once upon a time and fashionable, but now it was a shapeless, vaudevillian relic, a wilted halo.

It appeared that some attempt might have been made to style her hair, possibly even curl it, before putting on the hat. The attempt was less than successful.

When Ellen saw the green hat walking her way, she sat up straight, patted the lap of her dress with both hands, and watched with riveted eyes as Theo approached. Before he could say anything, and while he was still several steps away, Ellen held up an envelope.

“No man has ever sent me a handwritten letter before.”

It was stated as a simple declaration, maybe even an appreciation, without hostility or ill will.

Theo stepped forward until he was close enough to touch her. He smiled warmly and tipped his hat. “Well, then, I’m happy to be the first.” He bowed slightly, as if addressing royalty. “Ellen, it’s very nice to meet you.”

She fidgeted and seemed to be on the verge of saying something but then hesitated, as if she’d forgotten lines in a script. Finally, she spoke.

“Oh, now I remember. Do you like my hat?”

Theo nodded approvingly. “It’s lovely. Blue is one of my favorite colors. There are so, so many shades of blue. I think the artists call this one cerulean blue.”

“How do you know me?” Ellen asked.

Theo discerned already that the ensuing conversation might well be a runaway train of non sequiturs. He was undaunted and pleased that Ellen had shown up at all. Apparently, she had attached some importance to the meeting.

“Ellen, I only know you because of your portrait. I saw it at the Chalice recently with all the others. Have you seen it before?”

Instead of answering, she tapped the envelope containing Theo’s letter with her index finger. She followed that gesture with a statement, pronouncing each word precisely, as if to make a point.

“ ‘Your portrait, with all its details, are quite beautiful.’ You said ‘are’ in your letter.”

She removed the single page from the envelope, unfolded it, and held it up to Theo. “Look. The subject and the verb in that sentence don’t agree. If you take out the dependent clause, it should read ‘The portrait is quite beautiful.’ I don’t mean to be rude, but we try to use correct grammar.”

Theo looked at the letter, found the offensive sentence, processed Ellen’s observation, and nodded in agreement. “Well, well, you are exactly right. I stand corrected. Thank you. And yes, my grammar leaves much to be desired.” He looked again at the letter. “Yes, of course… the portrait is… of course.” He noted to himself that the woman had an educated mind, even if it was untethered. And he chided himself for making assumptions about her in advance.

She spoke again with unfiltered abruptness. “Are you a foreigner?”

“I am, but I have lived in your country for many years. My home is now up north.”