+1+
Fierro took a late flight back into Houston. His leather overnight bag was on the floor and his passport still in his hand. He’d come straight form the airport. I was surprised when I saw him standing in Rose’s room, I could have used more time but I was more than prepared.“Mr. Fierro,
I need to talk to you.” I was talking fast. I tried to sound distressed.
“Are you alright ?”
“Um. . .No, it’s Claudia. She was in an car accident and she’s out there in California by herself. She called me . . .and I know I should be stronger and stay away. . . but I need to see her.”
He was looking at Rose's medical chart, trying to understand it. I think half the reason I got away with lying was because he wasn't actually paying attention.
“You should be with your family, Clara.”
“I know, I just wanted someone to be with Rose. I’ve got a flight out tonight. I’ll be back in a week. Can you stay the whole week. I need to leave this afternoon.”
I looked over his shoulder to where Rose eyed me suspiciously.
“I will.” Mr. Fierro said
“Okay”, I went over to Rose, “Rose hang in there until I get back.”
Rose blinked
in understanding, but it was very clear one thing I couldn’t do was lie to Rose. I just hoped she'd keep my secrets.
+++
It started to rain the moment I set foot in Northern Ireland.
I couldn’t find Wicklow Abbey on any map. Kind locals pointed me and my rented Range Rover in the direction of a small Irish village called Carriglaine which was supposedly close to Wicklow Abbey. What the “kind locals” failed to mention was that Carriglaine wasn’t so much a village as it was a drop of civilization in an ocean of Irish countryside
I’d known Wicklow Abbey was off the grid, so I’d dressed appropriately in waterproof canvas pants and coral Timerblands. I’d bought an all-weather coat and backpack at the airport, I fit right in with college students backpacking though Europe
Ireland would have been beautiful if it weren’t raining. It wasn’t even pouring down rain, just a constant light shower and gray skies. I’d lost phone service the minute I hit Carriglaine, I headed into the Carriglaine pub after glancing a sign out front
PHONE FOR PAYING CUSTOMERS
It was quiet inside the pub, it had a huge dining room and mismatched furniture. It was empty except for an older woman behind the bar. I settled in at the end of the bar and looked over the menu, swallowed my pride and ordered blood sausage. After I ordered I called Rose’s hospital room directly. A nurse picked up and said she was getting a second round of chemo therapy today. Just something new the doctors’ were trying.
I hung up and focused on my maps. I needed to find this abbey. I looked up at the woman behind the bar. She was staring at me. I realized I’d have to leave a big tip for the international call.
“ . . .I
don’t suppose you know how to get to Wicklow Abbey.” I asked her, "I read that it's somewhere near here."
“Ah”, she said in her Irish lilt, “It’ll be dangerous in this weather.”
“I think my car can handle it.”
The woman gave me a tired smile.
“That’s not what you should worry about.”
“What then ?”
“The abbey’s haunted.”
“Is it now? “I said turning back to my map.
“It’s true. It’s private property now, some gentlemen bought it a while ago, Some of the kids go up that way now and again. Said they see something.”
“Well”, I said, “I could go for a thrill. Can you help me.”
“That’s trespassing, missy”, the woman said
I smiled
“I won’t tell if you won’t. I just want to take some pictures.”
The woman shrugged
“Secrets safe with me, but don’t expect anyone to go looking for you if you don’t come back. Something’s not right up there. I've only been up there once but the trick is . . .”
She scribbled down some notes and pointing things out on my map.
When the
rain let up I drove out to where I hoped to find Wicklow Abbey. It took me two hours before I found a path that wound up the where the old
Wicklow Abbey sat. It wasn't much to look at. Just a small singular building with one large crumbling tower.
I got out the car and made my way over to the front door. It smelled wet and like mildew inside. I could still see the pews and stain glass that had survived centuries of history. I take the single set of spiraling staircases up to the tower. I don't know why . . .but I felt something pulling me up. Up up up.
At the threshold of the tower I saw the light bend and twist until something formed in the air. The figure of a woman appeared. She looked around my age with short dark hair in Shirley Temple curls and bright pink lips, she was wearing a flirty crinoline dress.
I’d seen this woman in countless photos, I’d seen that dress too. I never realized it was blue.
“Lucie”, I said
She smiled but didn’t beckon me to come further.
The Wicklow Abbey looked just the way Mr. Fierro had described it in the journals he though I didn't know about. He’d only told me about Wicklow Abbey in passing. He’d bought it years ago, back when my Grandmother’s Spectre followed him around like a curse.
To him it was
a place he could be away from a world he didn’t truly feel a part of, where he
could contemplate his life and the ghost that quite literally followed him. He'd plan to live out the rest of his life here, until he deiced to go to London to meet Essex. He'd found Essex. . and me.
It was here where I knew I’d find Lucie.
“Look at you”, she said, “My Clara.”
“Look at me ? Look at you.”
She twirled in the giddy way only Lucie could. I had to distance myself from what I was actually doing to make it through this encounter.
“What brings you way out here. You never. . . visit.”
“It’s . . . Rose. She needs help and this man, Professor Essex, told me that if I can get Vi—“
“Oh, that Essex. He is a frightful fellow. Digging into a world he doesn’t understand. The living are so lucky they can be foolish. Why are they obsessed with us. . . unknown things ?”
“Well the thing is Rose—“
“How is she ?”, Lucie cut in and I felt myself being drawn into the tower, “Did they put her back on the trial drug yet ? I don’t know about this chemo business. Mother had cancer too you know. Maybe it's genetic-”
“She—“
I stopped.
“How did you know Rose has cancer? Lucie, You promised you wouldn’t leave this place after all the trouble you caused.”
Her false giddiness slipped.
“I kept my word, Clara. Watch your tone. I’m bound to this place now. I can’t leave if I wanted. I’m not sure how it happened but I’m bound to this little abbey-”
“Wait, then how did you know that Rose--”
Then it hit me, something rich floral and familiar
I turned to see a Swarovski vase on the window ledge filled with bright white alabaster roses. They caught the light in a beautifully ethereal way. I looked down at my feet where my boots were littered in decayed white Rose petals.
Then the
bell in the abbey’s bell tower tolled and it all just . . . came together.
I want to sit on the bell tower mommy.
The bells
This was why
Rose was obsessed with bells. I was clammy and cold from the weather and
Lucie’s presence but I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. Rose wanted her very
own bell. Just like Lucie in this bell tower.
“No.” I said more to myself, “No. No. No.”
“Listen Clara, I love Rose. I gave up Addison so Rose could have her Father. I promised to stay out of his affairs but—“
“He still comes to see you? He brought my daughter here ? You. . . talk to her ?”
Lucie tries so hard to hold back a smile .
“It’s beautiful isn’t it”, she says, “Now I truly believe true love can ever die. Rose so loves it here.”
The petals
on the roses were still full and pure white, the vase looked freshly cleaned.
“He was just here… last week wasn’t he ?”
Lucie admired the roses, she seemed to move effortlessly around me. I’d gone from angry to pissed.
“I know you think little of me and my affection for my husband, but the heart is complicated Clara. I should be going mad here like other specters, but my husband’s love. despite the fact we will never share the same physical world again keeps me content. I’m not even angry with you.”
“What are you talking about ?”
“It’s nothing, Clara. It’s just funny. Since you were a little girl whatever I had you always wanted. I was always willing to share trinkets and valuables with my little Clara, but wanting my husband is a bit unconventional. He's old fashioned I don’t want you flaunting your modern ways. I didn't raise you to be a harlot—‘
“Stop”, I said , “No. We are not here about that. This is about Rose.”
“I must admit it would be nice to have company here. I told her when she dies and becomes a Specter she can join me here and we can play all day long. The outside world is just so cruel to her.”
Suddenly Lucie was perched on the bell in the bell tower. She looked human and weightless at the same time.
This was why
Rose wanted to die, she wanted to be with Lucie . . . and Fierro. They'd be a family without me.
Focus Clara.
“Listen, Lucie. Essex thinks . . . if Victor takes Rose’s soul . . . again it would prevent her from dying. Just until she is physically better. Then he can give it back later. I need to find Victor. Do you know where he is ?
“Maybe”
Will you tell me ?”
“I think not”, she said
“Lucie”
“That’s foul energy”, she said, “You shouldn’t mess with such things. Besides, I like my little girl bright and sunny filled with light. If it’s her time to die, then it’s her time. She can join me—“
“No”, I said
“Are you afraid? Are you afraid she’d come back and haunt you ?”
“Sometimes”
Lucie smiled
“She won’t. I promise! I’d take such good care of her. We can sit on the bell tower all day. Addison would visit us all the time. He so loves it here. None of that technology or people. We’d have all have a grand time together !“
“I can’t let that happen. I need to know where Victor is.”
The bell started to sway but Luce paid it no mind, still perched on it like it was her throne. It was quite a sight
“No, oh no. I think I’ll wait right here for my little Rose to join me here. I love her so much, I can't wait. I'll always be here waiting for my family.”
“Please, Lucie. I need to find Victorr”
“No. Forget that unnatural nonsense. Now when you see my husband tell him I’d like some red roses next time. Just to change things up. Bye Clara, it was so nice to see you”
She faded into a laugh and just like that she was gone.
I sat down on the damp stone floors, I was exhausted and defeated. Angry and scared. I dragged myself back to my car and cried all the way back to town.
+++
I had to find Victor.
There was no time for sleep.
I went everywhere I thought he would be. I took a flight to France and went to the St. Marks hotel where he had been killed. Nothing. I went to the estate home turned office complex he’d grown up in. Nothing.
Since I was
in the area I took the train over to see Emile. I felt bad knocking on his door
in the middle of the day and as luck would have it there he was. In a
Manchester United shirt and pajama pants. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He did a double take when he saw me.
“Clara. . . what’s wrong--”
“Nothing. I'm sorry to bother you. You can’t tell anyone I’m here. Can I come in ? ”
Emile opened the door cautiously, knowing that "anyone" meant Mr. Fierro.
“Always”
The first floor of his townhome was filled with empty Le Fleur Marche flower boxes.
“What’s this ?”
“The roses still aren’t doing well. Couldn’t afford the warehouse. You know how it goes.”
“I can invest some money if—“
“It’s fine. If Fierro cared he’d do it himself.”
“Emile he does care, I think he’s been distracted lately.”
“I would
imagine so . . .” Emile said and tried to waggle his eyebrows.
“No. It’s not that. It’s . . . the past, as always.”
“What’s
going on Clara”
He bought out some coffee and I explained my plan to him, Leaving out the part
about Lucie and Fierro visiting one another. I couldn't even begin to talk about that.
“My God Clara. Hasn’t Victor done enough to terrorize your family ? Leave him alone”
“Rose can’t die. She’s so young.”
Emile laughed to himself.
“I guess Fierro and I were right all those years ago about Specters and the chaos they cause… but I think I might know where you can find Victor. Or how.”
“How ?”
“I’ve had a few drinks with Essex and Fierro. Essex talked about wanting to visit a spiritualist in New Orleans. Essex was trying to get Fierro to fund his trip and research, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I might have the spiritualist card. I swear Essex just wants money.”
“Essex is curious. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes I feel like I’m surrounded by things that are beyond understanding.”
Emile looked down at his coffee
“How is my girl ? “
“Not well. If you want her to live I have to do this.”
“I don’t trust Victor”, Emile said
“I don’t either, but he has a soft spot for me. If you don’t hear from me. . . assume I’ve been dragged to hell or something.”
“Not funny, Clara”
Emile
started shuffling around for the information. I tensed up when Robert came
down. I made up some lie about
dealing with insurance stuff and we made small talk. Emile came back in with a business card for
Bernet Marquis. Stapled to the card was a academic articles on clairvoyance and
the studies sciencetist had conducted on her. She seemed legitimate.
I stayed long enough for lunch, suddenly very envious of the casual intimacy Emile and Robert had. They'd found love late in life and they both wore it very well. I hugged Emile good-bye and hung out in a coffee shop long enough to buy a ticket to Louisiana.
+2+
The flight
to New Orleans was long. I’d been to New Orleans a few times in the past but
never with such a clear head. So far I hadn’t spent a single night in a bed. In 3 days I’d
gone straight from Ireland to France then to Emile’s and straight to New Orleans. No stopping. There just wasn't time.
If possible Louisana was hotter than Texas. As I walked through the French Quarter looking for a
cab I saw signs for spiritualist on every corner. They were all clearly tourist
traps. Nothing could be that easy.
The address for the woman I was being sent to was outside the city limits. I studied the water marks on the building as I entered an abandoned street corner in the 9th ward. The house was a quaint blue one on the corner with a cute picket fence.
The house
had an . . . energy about it. I felt it immediately. It was no wonder this
woman had been studied by specialist all over the world. Her house was the only
one still on the block and it looked like the water had been to afraid to touch it.
The screen door was open and I saw a young girl on the stairs with a cat.
“Hi”, I said from the screen, “I’m looking for Miss. Marquis ?”
An older
woman comes to the door, wearing an pink pantsuit and matching hat. The kind of outfit I’d seen regular Grandma’s wear. It
looked like she might be going to church. God, was it Sunday ?
“I’m sorry. I should have called but this is an emergency. My name is--”
“Come on in”, she said opening the screen door, “There is something . . . off about you.”
“You have no idea.”
She studied me very carefully, I wonder what she saw when she looked at me.
“What troubles you ? “
“A lot. I have a lot of questions about life and death.”
“Not sure I can answer those. Maybe no one can”
“Well, I. . . I I need a séance. I think ? I need to speak to someone who is dead. I don’t um. . . have anything that’s his but--.”
“Do you have a previous connection ?”
“A big one. He wanted me to love him a long time ago.”
She sat me down at her dining room table and placed three tarot cards infront of me. I wanted to scoff at the tarot cards. What was this ? What was I doing ?
The dinning room was separate from the rest of
the house. I could smell Sunday dinner
cooking from the kitchen, this felt to intimate and way to cozy. I was just barley aware of the cat moving around the room staring at me.
Ms. Marquis set a black sphere candle in the center of the table.
“I’ll be right back”, she said slowly shuffling out
I jumped
when I heard the door lock. Had she locked me in. . . or something out.
“Um. . . Ms. Marquis I “
The candle in the middle of the table flared to life with a burning ember. Suddenly I remember something Victor told me a long long time ago.
"A soul Clara, is like this", He took out my earring
"A diamond ?"
"It's precious. Hard to destroy except by their own kind. Many believe a soul is symbolized by fire. . ."
I stare at the flame. . . but something's not right about it. The flame looks dark black and blue. I can't stop looking at it until I hear someone. . . breathe.
I look up and see Victor sitting across from me and nearly fall out of my chair.
"Shit.", I hold on to the table for purchase.
He looks vivid
and bright. He looks timeless and fragile. Real and unreal. His
bright green eyes and light hair are to perfect.
I’m in the house but yet I’m not. Everything feels muted and I reach out for . . . something and feel nothing.
I see Victor . . .
In a way I hadn’t seen him in a long time.
“Victor”, I finally say his name.
“It’s been a long time Clara.”, he smiled
“Victor, I need your help.”
“Do you ? I’ve been trying to help you since I first met you and yet you never seemed to give me the time of day. You made me into this thing, Clara. All I wanted to do was live. Life looks very good on you and Fierro . . . that conniving bastard.”
“Victor I’m sorry If I disappointed you in the past. You won in the long run. Mr. Fierro and I are cursed in a lot of ways, the least you can do is give us is more time with our daughter.”
“Child Specters are vicious little things. They always want to play", he smirked, "They aren’t the only ones. I like to play too.”
I forced myself to concentrate, I had to get to the point.
“Victor, I thought if you took Rose’s soul temporally it would prevent her from dying. When her body heals you can give it back.”
“I see. You
want to put a pause button on your daughter.”
“Please.”
“I want something in return. I want you to give me something”
“But—you’re a –what can I possibly give you ?”
He thought on this
“. . . a kiss.”
"What ?"
"I want a kiss."
My hand instinctively went for my mouth, and I looked at him. Really looked at him. I mean it wouldn’t be the worse thing in the world. Certainly it was worth Rose’s life.
"That's it"
His green eyes settled on mine.
"That is it."
“Okay. But this doesn't mean anything.”
I didn’t think he could move so I leaned over the table. At first touch his lips felt cold but there was a spark. Something about his nature I guess ? I felt his cold hands in my hair and I opened my mouth for him. I felt a shiver and the kiss wasn’t so sweet anymore and after a few moments I slipped away. Breathing hard.When I opened my eyes I was in Ms. Marquis' dinning room. The spherical candle was now a puddle of wax and sitting on the table was a wet white rose. I jumped up and backed away nearly running into Ms. Marquis
The old woman
looked up at me stunned, she had a pack of matches in her hand
“How much do I owe you—“
“The session hasn't even started yet. What did. . . what happened. What did you do ? What are you , girl ?”
“I’m just a person, I’m not sure what.. . . I should go. Here”
I dug into my pocket and pulled out 300 dollars.
She recoiled from the money.
“Get out”, she whispered
“I want to pay you.”
Her eyes went to the wet rose on the table.
“Get out,
and don’t even think of coming back here when you get what’s coming to you. There is something dark after you."
“Wait, what are you talking about-”
“You want to talk ? Talk is cheap.You didn’t just talk, little girl. You should know better than to make deals with handsome devils.”
+3+
I caught a flight back to Houston is an absolute daze. The only way I made it out of New Orleans with that cryptic warning was by downing two frozen daiquiris at the airport. When I got into Houston I made a quick stop by the St. Regis. I felt hungover but I managed to shower and change into a nice sundress.
I stopped in
my tracks when I spied Mr. Fierro in the St. Regis lobby. He was in deep conversation
with the clerk. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw me. He put his had on my arm and led me back to the elevators.
“Clara. . . it’s Rosalie they’ve taken her off the trial drug she’s—“
“I know.”, I said “I know. She’s better. God, Mr. Fierro you aren’t going to believe this."
“Clara—“
“ It. . . it was Victor.”
“Victor ?”
Our conversation lapsed as more people joined us in the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor and when we were alone in the hallway I continued.
“Hear me out. I made a deal with Victor. He agreed to take Rose's soul again. Just to put Rose’s life on pause until she gets better. It's what he did when she was a baby and she never got sick not once. He must have come through--”
“Clara”, he cut me off and dragged me kind of roughly into his hotel suite. I pulled out of his grip.
“What is it ? Where is Rose ?”
“Clara. . . Rose is dying. The doctors want to to put her in hospice so she can be comfortable for her final days. I've been trying to call you--“
“My phone died after---wait--That can’t be right. I made a deal. . . with Victor. Essex seemed so sure."
Mr. Fierro
pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and quickly lit it. He was silent for a very long time and I didn't like it.
“Victor lied to you, Ms. DeLune. He isn’t strong enough to do such a thing again. How could you be so foolish ? I thought you knew better than to believe Essex’s mad ideas. ”
“I thought Essex was your friend and I was trying to save Rose’s life.”
“By dealing in such darkness ? How could you even utter our daughter’s name and Victor’s in the same sentence ? How could you do such a thing behind my back ? Tell me you didn’t give him anything.”
“I-I-I didn’t"
“Think Clara. . . did you give him anything ? Something of Roses or –“
“No, it was barley 24 hours ago. And how can you scold me like a child when you’ve been taking Rose to see Lucie behind my back.“
He didn’t say anything, just bought the cigarette to his lips again.
“Rose wanted to see her. Victor is a mad man, but Lucie cares for Rose. She’s her family. It was the least I could do for both of them.”“and. . .”,
I said trying to control my contempt. He was acting like I was overreacting. Like I was the one in the wrong.
“What is is Ms. DeLune”
“And”, I finished for him, “You want to see her too. . . you bring her flowers I saw them. Dozens of them You must go —what ? twice a month. Maybe more? Once a week ? Is that how you fill your weekends ?Are Lucie and I just interchangeable to you ? Her soul my body? ”
“Clara, I won’t entertain your petty jealousy. This isn’t at all about Lucie. ”
“You talk to her , you open up to her, you love her. . .you told her about. . . Valentine’s day. “
He turned
away from me and I heard the empty click of his lighter. He pulled open a few
drawers until he located a pack of matchsticks. He light his cigarette, and
waited before answering.
“I did not tell her anything, she asked. I simply respect her to much to lie to her.”
“What about me ? Do you have any respect for me ? Or just your wife, who
is a completely selfish bitch”, I finally said it. It had felt good, "Who by the way wants red roses."
“Clara”, he said with a forced calm, “This isn’t about Lucie. It’s about Rose. She’s dying for and she shouldn’t be frightened of death. I wanted to show her she had nothing to fear from death. I wish I'd had that comfort.”
“So. . .you want Rose to become like Lucie ? Another apparition you can visit without me ? How about wanting Rose to live.”
“Ms. DeLune
is that’s what best for Rose or what’s best for you ? She's not young child. She can speak she can feel. Lucie loves her. Lucie makes her happy. What do I tell her when she constantly asks why her mother doesn't love her like Lucie. Lucie and I just want the best for Rose."
How dare he. How dare he. Then I just snapped, it was the first time I just gave up pretense and yelled at him. He had no right. Thy had no right.
“I’ve
done what’s best for Rose her entire life. Rose always came first. I cleaned and cared for her, I put up with her tantrums, her temper and I made sure she never realized she was ostracized by my family. I did it all by myself.
So the
reason I went to Victor was because once again I went out to do something to
make Rose’s life better. I’ve been forced to put her first since the day I
found out I couldn't have an abortion. That kind of love doesn't look like smiles and sunshine or whatever pantomime of love Lucie is doing. Rose cannot die, unless she promises to stay that way.."
The light bulb
in the kitchenette lamp burst and hot shards rained down next to me. I heard shuffling behind me. Mr. Fierro kept his eyes on the
counter.
I turned to
see Rose standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She was in her pink robe
and nightgown and ( what I’m sure was for effect ) she was holding her stuffed elephant, Melody. The nightgown was hanging off of her skeletal body, tiny wisps of dark hair dotting her bare scalp. She held on to the door ledge, to weak to stand on her own.
“Rose”, I
said, “I—did we wake you ?"
She just
held the elephant tighter, her eyes looked huge against her hollow cheeks. She looked at the broken light bulb and at Mr. Fierro who was making an effort not to look at her.
“Go back to
sleep, Rose. I promise we’ll be quiet” I spoke to her in a soft calming voice.
I turned her back into the room but Rose jerked away from my touch. She shuffled back into the room and I closed the bedroom door. I sat on the couch and tried to collect myself.
“I. . . I
thought you said she was in hospice.” I said. I saw Mr. Fierro was still looking at the counter.
“You didn’t allow me to finish. I told the doctors I thought she’d be more comfortable dying here instead of a hospital."
“I should”, I managed to stand, “I didn’t—“
“Ms. DeLune”, he says getting very close to me “Did you give him anything ?”
“What ?”
“Victor. . . did you give him anything ? Whatever he says he can do he is lying. As long as you don’t give a spectre anything. . . we should be fine.”
“No. we just . . . communicated.”
“Well then, Ms. DeLune you should know you are fired.”
“I—What ?”
“You are fired.”
That was true, that was oh so true, But his words meant something else too. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had lied. I had given Victor something.
A kiss
+4+
Of course Rose
didn’t die. That would have been too easy.
She got better
Almost remarkable so.
It wasn’t
Victor, it wasn’t magic or Specter nonsense.
It was time. For once it was on our side.
First Rose's cells stopped multiplying.
They’d weaned her off the trial drug and a few rigorous treatments of chemotherapy swept away the rest of the mutated cells. Rose was exhausted but she braved it. She was so strong. Stronger than me anyway.
Within two weeks of my Sunday with Victor Rose's doctor pulled me into her office and proclaimed Rose to be in remission and that’s she’d been put on a list for a stem cell match. I'd just sat there, stunned and confused. Fierro had been there in the chair next to me and hadn't said a word.
Mr. Fierro
and I didn’t speak to one another at all during the last of it. There was nothing else to say. He couldn't let go of Lucie and his missing time. I couldn't let go of how he and Rose had taken everything I knew about my life and broken it.
On Rose’s last day at the hospital she let me push her wheel chair to the car. The nurses threw her a small party I remember It was a warm April afternoon. When the doors opened to the sunshine Rose started screeching. Her hands clawed for her eyes and she said that they burned. She got on her knees and buried her head in the grass.
"It hurts", she'd said over and over again, "My eyes. . . burn."
I picked her up ad she kept her palms flat against her eyes and buried her face into my chest.The doctor said she was fine and perhaps the pain was all in her head, but ever since that day Rose wore tinted glasses to cover her strange colored eyes. Between hospitals and homeschooling, Rose had been able to hide from the world. Not anymore though. I think the pain in her eyes was a coping mechanism. As long as she had the tinted glasses on she could at least hide behind those.
+++
On our last
night in Texas I stopped by Fierro's hotel suite with the last of Rosalie’s hospital
bills. He’d already packed, his leather traveling bag sat on the
couch. Rose’s new Louis Vuitton luggage was piled up next to it. Rose and I were going to stay in London for a few weeks and figure the rest out later.
“I thought”, I said, “ I thought we could open that Champagne from Emile. I think he’d approve.”
“What do you want, Ms. DeLune ?”
“I. . . just want to know why you are obsessed with Lucie and the past. Can’t you just leave that all behind? Can't you just live in the now.”
I went to the kitchen counter and saw the bottle of Champagne had already been open. I decide not to say anything about the two used champagne glass on the counter. I picked up the one that was still half full and took a sip.
“Never”, he said pouring the Champagne into the other glass
“Why not ?”
“I can never give up my obsession with these things because I think to myself. I think if I keep going, keep doing right thing, everything will be set right.”
“What do you mean.”
“Maybe one day I’ll say the right words or perform the right ritual and wake up in Chataqua. On the farm right where I belong. I deserve that, do I not ? I want those years I lost. I crave them. I want my former life back . . . Some days I wonder how much penance I have left.”
I finished my glass and poured another.
“What about Rose and I ? If you had it your way we. . . probably . . . won’t.exists. Is that what you want ?”
“No--I don't--I can't say.I just want a miracle. I always feel as If I’m out of time. I just want one day. One day where time is just right.”
Now he poured another glass because. . .he couldn’t take it on the plane with him. We’d shared plenty of champagne together but never an entire a bottle.
By the time the last drop was in my glass Mr. Fierro was leaning back in a plush chair, I’d propped myself up on a couch.
“There was Edgar Poe”, Mr. Fierro said to me, “He said. . . the boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins.”
“Interesting”, I said
holding in a laugh. I was drunk for the first time in a long time and I had over done it.
“Marcus Aurelius an emperor", he poured more Champagne but the bottle was empty, like I said. . . I over did it.
“I’m familiar”, I said
He said –“
Mr. Fierro’s glass slipped from his hand. He almost cursed but thought better of it and quietly lit a cigarette
“He said”, he continued,”It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.”
“I bet that something you can relate to.”
He put out the cigarette and reached for another, contemplating this.
“Napoleon—Napoleon”, he said, “Bonaparte—are you familiar”
“I am part
French”, I reminded him.
”He said Death is nothing. But to live defeated and inglorious . . . is to die daily. That was me. I let everything in my life get the better of me. Work, religion and love. . .."
That stuck with me. That stuck with me for a while
“You're thinking about Lucie aren’t you ? How can you think of her”, I asked, sitting up on my elbows
“We got along
well”, he said, "When I am with her everything falls into place."
“What’s that ?”
“I’m going to do all the things I’ve always wanted to do. I'm not going to be defeated and certainly not inglorious. I just. . . . need a plan.”
"You speak with such certainty", he said
"I'm come from old money, to us certainty is just one big check away."
"Enlightening."
"You have a bit of money, you should take the same stance."
"I can't quite see it that way.”
I don’t think
either of us had a plan but we knew what we wanted and it wasn’t
each other. What we wanted took us faraway from each other and left Rose all alone in the middle.