The religion of the heart is as intimate as a wish breathed to the night sky.
Stella
Precisely at three, the doorbell rings and by the time I manage to answer, I see a white courier truck pulling away.
Stella kept her part of the bargain, but now my part is less exciting—keeping my date with her.
A huge manila envelope is left. I tear it open and scan the original house plans. Sure enough, there once was a tower with a turret room and to that part of the blueprint Stella has attached a sticky note:
Hmm, after a failed romance in 1938, seems Jessica erased parts of her house that reminded her of bad parts of her life—a tennis court and a wing of her manse. Weird, huh?
The confirmation of what I experienced roars through my brain—I was back there! I begin shaking and feel suddenly weak. I stagger back into the house and manage to collapse onto the love seat facing the fireplace.
Jessica’s huge eyes stare down at me from the portrait. They harbour the same dark surprise as when she looked up at me from the garden last time I time travelled.
I fill a huge wine glass with Shiraz from the decanter on the coffee table—I down it and pour another. I don’t stop until the room begins to dim and fills with swarms of dark motes—black suns—as if my sight is stained with after-images from her eyes.
Next thing I’m aware of is awakening the next morning fully clothed and curled up on the love seat. My cell on the coffee table is vibrating and buzzing.
I pick up to Stella’s bright voice.
“Good morning, Leon—hope you made coffee.”
“Huh? Where are you?”
“Outside your front door, Silly. Open up and let me in.”
I groan inwardly and force myself to roll off the love seat and stumble to unlock the front door.
A manicured red talon is hovering over the doorbell button as I swing open the door.
“Don’t ring that!” I plead.
“You look wasted,” she chides, an amused smirk on her face. “Really Leon, I thought you only allowed yourself an occasional glass of wine. I hope you haven’t reached your quota for the week. Friday’s coming, you know.”
I wince at the thought of a date with her. I stand swaying in the middle of the room waiting for the dizziness to subside.
She tsks tsks at the circles under my eyes.
“Yeah, well I better make coffee,” she sings breezily, on her way to the kitchen. She calls back over her shoulder, “Where do you keep your aspirin?”
“There’s Tylenol in the cupboard above the coffee maker—Extra-strength.”
She comes back into the front room with the pill bottle and a glass of water. “Here—better make it a double.”
I groan at the boozy allusion, but swallow the caplets dutifully while she surveys the room.
“Looks like you had a party. Was Maya over?”
I shake my head.
“You shouldn’t drink alone, Leon.”
“I wasn’t alone," I counter, managing a lop-sided grin.
She arches an eyebrow and I tilt the water tumbler in mock toast to Jessica’s portrait on the wall.
“Beautiful company,” she deadpans, “Too bad she’s dead.”
The words strike me like a blow and I actually reel under their force. Stella ‘s arm darts out and steadies me.
“Whoa! You better sit down, Lothario—you’re still hung over. I’ll get those coffees—and make yours black.”
“Suits my mood,” I chirp after her.
In a few minutes she returns and hands me a steaming mug while setting hers down on the coffee table and sitting in the sofa chair opposite to me.
I’m relieved—my fears are assuaged. I pictured us together on the couch, she leaning in provocatively going over the house plans—but on second thought, I realize she has a better plan.
She’s sitting opposite me in a navy, pinstriped Edith Pena business suit, long legs seductively tilted to one side.
Of course, I stare.
This game of seduction can only lead to disappointment because I found the One...
And she's here, only Time away
To be continued...
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