death but the horizon of the limit of our sight.
—R. W. Raymond
The grandfather clock’s still chiming when I hear a soft rap at the door.
It's Camilla is visiting to discuss her upcoming photo shoot but I'm definitely opposed to her plans.
I can hear her icy laughter in the hallway and as I open the door and gaze upon her, I see she's dressed in black and veiled.
“Am I your mystery woman?” she purrs seductively.
I’ve been down this road before.
“Come into the Den of Pan,” I declaim melodramatically, bowing with a grand flourish.
She’s frisky as a kitten, running her hands over furniture—touching everything.
“I have a present for you,” she smiles.
“Another carnelian stone?”
“No, this.”
She hands me a gold tyet key chain.
“Do you like it?” she whispers.
“Very much.”
“I got it in Jewels of the Nile—the dealer said it was a sacral knot—a symbol of friendship.”
“How appropriate.”
She sits on my couch and kicks off her heels. “Shall we have a drink?”
“What’s your pleasure?”
“Have you anything bubbly?”
“I have Bubbles.”
“Perfect,” she giggles.
We spend the next hour mulling over lingerie photos from the Aubade catalogue.
Finally, we’re done. She puts her feet up again on my coffee table and wiggles her toes.
“Are you exhausted?” she asks.
“No,” I say truthfully.
I’m excited she’s here.
She takes a sip of champagne and then says softly, “You know, I haven’t told you this before, but I feel an affinity for you.”
“How’s that?”
She stares out the window at the night.
“I don’t know what it is, but from the first moment I saw you, I felt I knew you.”
“Perhaps you read my column once,” I offer.
“No, she frowns, “ nothing as mundane as that—certainly, not the way I felt.”
My head’s roaring—waves pounding on headlands.
She looks directly at me.
“Do you feel that affinity, Malcolm?”
“I do.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t you know?”
“No, honestly I don’t. It’s very mysterious though. Some nights I’ll be out walking and I’m always drawn here, to this building.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s mysterious, as if I were following some ancient Ley lines.”
“Perhaps you were.”
She stops abruptly and puts her glass down.
“You don’t want me to do this layout, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I knew—or rather, sensed you didn’t.”
I don’t want to offend her.
“But you want to do it, don’t you?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s silly, but I don’t. I only said I would to see your reaction.”
“My reaction?”
“Yes, to see if my instincts about you were right.”
“And what are your instincts telling you?”
Again, she pauses. Looks off into the distance, into the night.
“My instincts are saying…that you’re… in love with me—that you always have been—long before you even met me. I wanted to make you jealous to remind you.”
The room goes silent.
“Does that make sense to you?” I ask.
“No, it doesn’t, but in a strange way it does. I mean, I found myself doing peculiar things—giving you that red pebble, for instance.”
“You have no idea what it means?”
“None.”
She stares at me, perplexed.
“Everything seems instinctual with us—the Ley Lines drawing me here, the Egyptian symbol I bought for you. I don’t understand any of it.”
“It is mysterious.”
“Do you feel it too?”
“I do.”
“I’ve something else to confess.” She casts her eyes down and looks embarrassed.
I’m not sure what to do.
“Okay. Go on,” I prompt her.
“Do you promise you won’t laugh?”
I cross my heart and hold my hand in my old Boy scout salute. “You have my word.”
“Every night before I go to sleep, yours is the last face I see.”
“Do you know what that means?” I ask.
“I think so—at least, I know what it means for me.”
She’s looking at me earnestly. I have no idea what to say—so I take her in my arms and kiss her.
One long, delicious kiss.
The kiss is never ending.
It's the eternity I envisioned after waiting centuries to be with her again.
Thank you!