I eat a light supper sitting in the front room by the light of the fire. It’s basic, if not a Spartan repast—Swiss cheese on rye and a glass of Shiraz.
I know—with my history of alcohol abuse I shouldn’t, but ever since I explored the basement speak-easy and stumbled upon that portal to the past, I’ve needed the occasional drink to calm my tremors.
No, they’re not DT’s—they’re a more distant thunder—a reverberation that pulses inside me every time I remember the dark surprise in Jessica’s eyes.
In my mind's eye I can still see her.
Sometimes, I tremble so much, I have to squeeze my fingers tight into a ball and scrunch my eyes closed and try not to look at that white petal in a dark sea—Jessica in the garden below, staring up at me.
A turreted, second-floor room that doesn’t exist in the time or space—how can it be? But I was there! I know it’s real—as real and palpable as this longing for a woman that’s been dead half a century but still managed to ignite a conflagration within me.
The rain has stopped and I wander outside and stand on my front lawn.
It’s cool and there’s a slight breeze. I look up at the mansion Jessica built—a monolith towering above me—a Cubist house with curving lines, now illumined with the aura of a full moon about to crest the roof line.
It’s romantic standing here beneath the dark oaks, listening to the rustling leaves, and watching the Moon break free and beckon to me.
A wild delight surges through me. I can sense Jessica is near.
She’s on the grounds with me and the darkness provides just enough obscurity to soften the stark actuality of the everyday and liberate her spirit.
I begin to shiver and can take no more. I force myself to go in and shut the door on my fantasies, but it’s futile—I can’t shut her out completely, because nightly, she haunts my dreams.
The following morning the sunlight through the kitchen windows comforts me in the daily routine of coffee spoons, things to do and places to be.
I add one item to the list—see Stella about original house plans. I know I’m obsessing, but I have to satisfy a hunch.
Stella’s the agent who sold me the house—she’s tenacious—and that’s good because if there are original blueprints, she can get her hands on them.
But the thought of Stella makes me uneasy in other ways—her seductive charm for one—and the fact that everything with her comes at a price.
I wince at having to venture back across boundaries, blurry lines of desire and unspoken wishes.
Don’t get me wrong—Stella’s beautiful, but not the one I’m looking for—not the one I need.
Unexpectedly Stella shows up, bright and vivacious even at this early hour and as usual overwhelms me with her energy.
I broach my request and she ponders, deliberately upping the stakes.
“Of course there are plans for the house, Leon—but it’ll cost you.”
Her long blonde hair is swept into a fashionable side pony and with her Eau de Hadrien fragrance, she’s intoxicating at such close range.
“What do you have in mind?” I croak nervously.
“Cocktails on the Roof Terrace of the Park Hotel would be nice—for starters.”
Her eyes gleam. She’s almost irresistible and I’m wondering why I don’t give in—maybe Elias is right—maybe I should check and see if I still have a pulse.
I push the thought away.
“Friday night at eight—if you get the plans to me today.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to check my schedule, but I think that’ll work for me. I’ll Fed Ex them this afternoon, unless you prefer I drop them off.”
I give her a mischievous grin. “I’ll be out all day, Stella—the courier can leave them in the mail box.”
Her eyes are dancing. “Be careful, Leon—all work and no play.”
“Ha ha, don’t worry Stella—I’ve got enough excitement in my life.”
“We’ll have to see about that,” she purrs, leaning in and giving me a chaste peck on my cheek.
I emerge from the encounter relieved.
Once again I've deftly sidestepped her rush, but can’t help feeling mildly unsexed.
A thought crosses my mind I might prefer spooky things at a distance rather than a real relationship—even prefer a stormy relationship with Maya to being with her.
But the truth is, Jessica is the one who interests me.
I have to face the fact I’ve fallen in love with a screen goddess who in reality might not even be there.
