and right; as if our hands hold memories
of meeting in a thousand other lives.
― John Mark Green
Tess Woods was incredibly beautiful but disturbing.
Whenever she appeared she upended my emotions, then left me desolate as though a lifelong loneliness invaded my heart.
There was something familiar and haunting about her I couldn't quite define and every word and gesture struck a plaintive note inside me.
How could I reconcile these feelings of desire when i was so powerfully drawn to Clare?
Maybe she was right--maybe I was a player, a shallow, faithless roué, a rogue and a rake and most likely a prodigal who'd end up wasting the family fortune and amassing lavish debts in the process.
I glimpsed my face in the hall mirror and realized with shock, I was not the man I was picturing in my head.
Where did these accusing thoughts come from?
I began to shake and had to sit down.
Why am I so weak and fragile? I upbraided myself, then caught myself and got a grip on my emotions.
These are not my thoughts, I realized.
Tess' departure always left me desolate. I felt oppressed like a hermit or an ascetic in a desert and these same demons that inhabited desolate places were now tormenting me.
I was feeling shame and a heavy burden of guilt and knew I'd have to examine this emotion and determine its origins.
I sensed something back in the past tied me to Tess and our relationship had not ended well.
Although the exact details were unclear to me, it was undeniable― a dark pall remained.
And although we were probably not good for one another, the ache for her inside me felt impossible to contain.