It was a day like any other. My life had fallen into a predictable routine of lecturing, punctuated by a two-hour midday break where I got the chance to be near Ev.
Evelyn Hill was, like me, a lecturer in the English Department and we shared the same lunch. Those golden hours spent near her were the highlight of my day.
To tell the truth, there were six of us in the faculty lounge and the main connection between Ev and me was Sophia Fiori who lectured in Italian Studies. I know Sophia liked me, but that ship had sailed long ago, and although she still had feelings, they were unrequited. I had eyes only for Ev.
Ev and Sophia were friends, if truly it could be said Ev had friends—she was either shy and withdrawn, or standoffish and distant—I couldn’t decide. But apparently she and Sophia shared a common interest in yoga and had met that way.
No one else knew of my hidden love for Ev, least of all Sophia, and certainly not Ev. Hers was the last face I saw at night, except for those rare occasions when she chanced to be in my dreams.
On those nights when I’d dream of her, I’d wake up feeling so desolate and bereft that my longing for her was almost unbearable. Somehow, I struggled on helplessly hoping physical proximity at work might somehow lead to intimacy, but knowing it probably never would.
I might have gone on perpetually in that purgatory had it not been for what Jung calls synchronicity—two events meaningfully related.
The first was a somber occasion—the death of Rosamund Hill, Ev’s mother.
Ev uncharacteristically revealed that her home life had been painful and her relationship with her mother strained. Moreover, she was terrified of living again in her childhood home that she was convinced was haunted.
Ironically, in a cruel twist, her mother bequeathed all her assets to Ev on the condition that she live a year in the family manse. Ev was terrified of the prospect.
That’s when the second propitious event occurred. My apartment in Rosedale was flooded by burst water pipes and rendered uninhabitable—the repairs would take up to a month.
Sophia jokingly suggested I rent space in Ev’s manse and provide moral support for her, seeing as she was too terrified to live there and had no one to turn to for help.
“I’ll do it,” I laughed, “I don’t believe in ghosts and they don’t believe in me.”
“See—then, you’ll be perfect,” Sophia said. “A skeptic is the best ghost buster. So, what do you say, Ev—you won’t get a better offer.”
Ev turned her huge brown eyes on me and I felt my stomach flutter.
“Are you sure you’re willing to take the risk, Jon? I mean a year is a long time.”
A year is a long time, I mused, long enough to know if I stand a chance with you.
“Sure, I’d be willing, Ev—I’m in a bind myself, so you’d be helping me out.”
“Well, I’ll agree on one condition—that you not pay rent. Considering the circumstances, you should probably be getting danger pay.”
“Oh, I’m not worried in the least, but if those are your terms, I’d say they’re more than fair.”
And that’s how Ev and I came to be living under the same roof. Call it serendipity—fate—synchronicity—I have no idea.
Ghosts or no ghosts, call it what you want, but to me it was a wonderful opportunity to be close to the one I loved....
But it would all be in vain if Ev and I didn't work out—and that was a sobering thought but a risk I was willing to take (with fingers crossed).
