Burnt Jack of Clubs

BURNT JACK OF CLUBS       © 2014 by Myron Schreck

     Sometimes I think of this corner bistro, in the part of Paris that they call the Rive Gauche.  It was Nineteen-nineteen, just after the war.  I was resting while doctors tried healing my scars.  For the mustard gas burned through my eye and my cheek.  And the gangrene had eaten through both of my feet.  Hobbling on crutches, some nights I’d go, from the French Hospital to this corner bistro.
…     Drowning my sorrow with liquor and herbs, dreading the day that they’d make me return … Back to New Orleans, to family and friends, who can’t stand to see how I’ve come to this end.  Just then I heard her sweet voice loud and clear, tho the bistro was noisy with laughter and cheer. Fiery red hair – an aristocratic face – in a black velvet dress, trimmed with old Belgian lace.

Old Belgian lace, red Russian scarf, the cuts on her face set her apart.  One look in her eyes, and I fantasized what would it be like.  To share one night, to share one dream, frozen in time, quiet, serene.  Life is a play, but where are the parts …  for a burnt Jack of Clubs and a torn Queen of Hearts?

     A young man had grabbed her and twisted her wrist.  She screamed as she tried to break free of his grip.    In just a few steps, I was there by her side.  I swung out my crutch, and I bashed in his eye.  He fell down in anger – then he saw my clubfeet.  He wanted to fight, but decided to leave.  She thanked me and asked me to escort her home, and with her hand in my arm, we left the bistro. 
      We walked along the river; we talked for an hour.  She said she was Russian and a cousin of the Czar.   But she caused lots of trouble by the age of eighteen.  So they sent her away to live in Paris.   Her name was Katrina.  I told her, “I’m Jack.”  And I questioned the cuts on her face and her back.  She said just like me, she had a bit of bad luck. Then she laughed and she called me her “burnt Jack of Clubs.”

Burnt Jack of Clubs – torn Queen of Hearts – looking for love – lost in the dark.  Feeling no pain – feeling no shame – no one to blame.   Sharing one night – sharing one dream – frozen in time – quiet – serene.  Life is a game, but it’s ruined and marked …  For a burnt Jack of Clubs and a torn Queen of Hearts.

     I told her my fears about going back home.  How the loss of my feet made me feel less than whole.  “Who will ever love someone damaged as me?  Who would want to kiss theses burns on my cheek?”   She smiled and caressed me and looked in my eyes.  “Your body,” she said, “is just a disguise.”  “Your heart is what matters, not your scars or your burns.  When you give someone love you’ll get love in return.”
      “Just remember,” she warned me, “we all make mistakes,” and she sheepishly brushed at the cuts on her face.   “While the beautiful people know nothing about pain, it’s the torn ones like us, who have so much to gain.”  “For we transform our torments into music and art.  Set apart from the world, we see things as they are.”  “Alone we suffer – uncertain of love – but the friends who draw close, we know we can trust.”

Burnt Jack of Clubs – torn Queen of Hearts – looking for love – lost in the dark.  Feeling no pain – feeling no shame – no one to blame.   Sharing one night – sharing one dream – frozen in time – quiet – serene.  Life is a game, but it’s ruined and marked … For a burnt Jack of Clubs and a torn Queen of Hearts.

     The next day Katrina took the train to Bordeaux, and I never again saw her in the bistro.  Facing my fears – and ignoring my scars – I returned to the States, and I studied guitar.  And now when I remember that remarkable night, I think of the lady who changed my   whole life.  One night of insight – one night of love – for a torn Queen of Hearts and a burnt Jack of Clubs.

Burnt Jack of Clubs – torn Queen of Hearts – looking for love – lost in the dark.  Feeling no pain – feeling no shame – no one to blame.  Sharing one night – sharing one dream – frozen in time – quiet – serene.  Life is a game, but it’s ruined and marked …  For a burnt Jack of Clubs and a torn Queen of Hearts.