Rytius Records (Substack Edition), Ch. 7.1,2

Ch. 7.1,2. The Conflicts Constitutive of Historical Inquiry

Rytius’s body woolens were damp and he was therefore chilled from his visit with his brother and his sojourn through the park, outside, in the rain, too lightly dressed. Water ran down his chest, stomach, neck, and back. He disrobed, there, just inside his door, drying himself with the thick undershirt. He walked himself and his damp clothes to the hearth in the family room. Last night’s fire was long since out, ash-covered embers merely warm, and he did not have time to start another fire before he had to leave again. He draped his drawers across the cook crane, hung his undershirt on the pot hook, and padded into the dining room, where last night’s dishes remained. He always cleaned his plate, but he didn’t always clean his plates. The important thing was that last night’s liquor bottle remained as well. He took a deep swig to warm his bones, thinking blind Pharisee, first cleanse the inside of the cup so that the outside might also be clean. He stood, waiting for the chemical warmth to spread throughout his belly, up his throat, the back of his neck, across the top of his skull, around his ears. He took fuzzy steps to get the gifts for the gathering, which is to say a full case of cider for the grown folks and an alphaphonics primer for the girl, because today was a very special day. His goddaughter was ready to choose her name.