Norman Balmoral: What he really was trying to say

Norman sat at his mother's desk in the back office. He looked at the monthly ledger, sighed, and covered his eyes with his hands. How could it possibly be this bad, he asked himself. How could their debts be so great? Last month, their expenses came to a whopping $165.00. They had revenue of $47.85. Norman just couldn't see any way they'd be able to keep the store afloat. They wouldn't be able to pay the drug company and when Mrs. Gibbons came for her tonics, they'd be empty-handed. Word would get out that Balmoral's was an unreliable general store and all their customers would start going to Helgemann's on Chestnut Street instead. What he really thought, but couldn't bring himself to say aloud, they'd be living on the street three months hence.

A knock on the door startled Norman out of his concentration. Mr. Soltham, of course. He opend the door and saw the elderly, bespectacled man in front of him. "What is it, Mr. Soltham? Can't you see I'm busy?" The underlying message he was trying to say (but didn't): Mr. Soltham, leave me the hell alone!

"A Miss Limerick to see you, Mr. Balmoral." He responded automatically. "Please ask her to wait. I'll be just a moment." What he really thought, however, was that Agnes would have to wait while he figured out what to say to her.

Agnes! What was she doing here? The last time they'd seen each other, he couldn't bear to look her in the eye. Why would she want him now, now that he'd lost his job? Norman couldn't stand the idea of her knowing he'd lost his job. And if she were here, he'd probably seen the eviction notice on his parents' house across the street. And if this monthly ledger was any indication, the store would probably fail, too. And where would they go? He'd probably never be able to ask her to marry him, just like he'd wanted to do for the last two months. Even if her family didn't approve of him, even if she were a Catholic (surely she'd convert for him?), even if his future prospects as an architect looked dim -- he wanted to ask her. When he thought of Agnes Limerick, he felt a powerful attraction that always had an undeniable effect on him. She had no idea, he supposed, because she was so innocent, so young. He really knew, in this long moment while he thought about Agnes, that every time she came to his mind, he'd get an erection.

He walked out. There she was, looking him in the eye. He was wrong. She did have an idea. She might still be young, but she wasn't quite so innocent. Her eyes told him exactly what she wanted. In an instant, he felt a stiffness in his slacks concealed (thank heavens) by tight undershorts. Here it goes again, Norman really thought: an erection he couldn't control.

"Mr. Soltham," he directed to his employee, "you may go now. It's the end of the day and I'll close up the store." This time, he really thought, this time he'd put it to use. With Agnes.