―William Faulkner
Spellbound
My life motto has always been no steps backwards and yet here I was, sitting in my car outside Sofia's building trying to get up enough nerve to go in.
I was actually embarrassed to confront her when she was the one who blackmailed me into maintaining the relationship with her or she'd out me to Clare Rodgers.
I foolishly went along with her devious plan but ironically, in the end, living a double life was too stressful for me and I finally confessed the affair to Clare and that ended the relationship I had been struggling to save.
I remember her parting words to me. "You've always been a good Catholic boy, Liam―sin and go to confession. Well, this time you'll have to live with the guilt."
I never darkened a church door again.
I'm not sure what sin was worse―my cheating on Clare or Sofia blackmailing me to stay.
"You should stay with me, Liam," she said, "We're two of a kind and you'll never be faithful, but I don't care. I'll be your mistress."
Maybe she was right. I haven't been able to maintain a lasting relationship and I'm constantly in and out of trouble with women.
"Definitely not the marrying kind," Sofia prophesied. More like she cursed me.
I force myself to stop hearing the voices―the accusing chorus inside my head. But this is not something I can resolve by ruminating, but face to face.
I get out of the car, take the elevator to her third floor apartment, knock on the door and wait for all hell to break loose. I'm almost expecting bats to fly out when she opens the door but instead I see a smiling, mature Sofia who looks softer and lovelier than I pictured her in memory.
"Thanks for seeing me, Sofia," I hurriedly say.
"Of course, Liam. Sarah Morris explained everything and I'm so sorry to hear what you've been going through. Please, come in."
Her apartment is bright and airy and full of colour. She has many oil paintings adorning the walls.
"Beautiful art work," I enthuse. "The canvases remind me of Chagall."
"Really? I'm flattered."
"You mean this is your work? You created these?"
She smiles. "You probably don't remember I was enrolled in Fine Arts and went on to teach at community college. I've continued to paint and exhibit my works and have a studio in Yorkville."
"I'm really impressed," I tell her, sitting down, gazing with awe at her artistry.
"You used to look at me that way," she smiles flirtatiously.
"Yeah," I laugh, "that probably explains why women want to kill me."
"Is that why you wanted to see me―to apologize or something?"
"Exactly! I feel so bad for the way I treated you and Clare. I suppose you know what happened to her?"
"I know she had emotional problems and ended up committing suicide, but that had nothing to do with you."
"But I didn't make her life easier."
"No, but neither did I."
She hesitated for a moment and then came to a decision. "I've got a confession to make―I hope you won't hold it against me."
I was puzzled. "Of course not, but I was the one who initiated my own misfortune."
"You sure about that? What if I told you I knew about you and Clare before I 'accidentally' met you that day at the coffee house?"
"You're kidding me!" I exclaimed.
"No, it was all planned on my part and frankly, I was into a lot of dark things back then and I'm not proud of some things I did."
"But regardless of whether you knew about Clare, that still doesn't excuse me for trying to deceive you and cheat on her."
"Well, that part is true, but I kind of prolonged the affair."
"I was an adult. What did you do―put a spell on me?"
"Actually, I did. I was into witchcraft and put a love spell on you and gave it a post-hypnotic twist."
I frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"Remember when I tried to hypnotize you and it failed? Well, it didn't. You were so suggestible you went right under and I gave you a post hypnotic suggestion and used it whenever your guilt would resurface and you wanted out."
Sofia's confession explained a lot of things, especially that helpless feeling of being caught in her undertow and being dragged down and submerged in desire.
The weird thing was that even as she confessed to me she was still trying to seduce me. It nauseated me. I actually felt physically sick and used that as an excuse to leave abruptly.
I felt no animosity toward her—we each reaped what we sowed and could hardly complain about the bitter harvest. But Sofia’s use of subconscious suggestion was highly manipulative and probably endured long after I was able to break free of our relationship.
In a way she cursed me and doomed me to regard myself thereafter as compulsive and controlling when it came to women.
I was by no means off the hook for my actions, but it made my murky motives less opaque and made me more hopeful I could reform in the future.
So, seeing Sofia was helpful if only to put to rest an old ghost that had haunted me.