Tempus (28 page)

“So you’re ignoring me then?  Or are you just too busy to answer?”  He had his phone to his ear.

“Seriously?”  I asked.  He nodded.

I picked up the phone and answered, “Jessie McLeod speaking, how may I be of service?”

“Miss McLeod, this is Gabriel Knight calling.  I wish to request your presence for dinner this evening.  Arrangements have been made, providing you are agreeable, and I shall send a car for you shortly.”  He smiled.

“Certainly, kind Sir.  I shall be waiting by the door.  Goodbye.”

“Fare well, Miss.”

“You are insane, you know that, right?”  I asked as I put my phone away.

“I’ve been accused of such.”  He looked off in the distance, a wistful look on his face.

“Well, me too.”  I couldn’t figure out why I felt so comfortable in his presence.  It threw me off balance and yet grounded me.

“Would you like to see the top floor?”  He asked suddenly.

“Sure, why not.”  I hadn’t thought about it until now, but I imagined the views were stunning.

He stood quickly and put out his hand.  I was getting a little used to the treatment by now, and didn’t feel nearly as awkward as I had.  We hurried inside and up the stairs.  We walked quietly past the library door and down to a doorway.  Gabriel opened it and I could see the stairs leading to the third floor.  That’s why I hadn’t noticed them, they were hidden.

“
After you
.”  Gabriel said.

What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day.

—Delmore Schwartz

I climbed up slowly, again not touching anything.  I had never been so averse to touching things in my life, but I had the strongest feeling I shouldn’t, so I went with it.

At the top of the stairs was a small landing with a single door.  “Open it.”  Gabriel said from behind me.  I looked at the doorknob, and was afraid to touch it.  Unusually afraid.  He placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Open it, please.”

His voice was so quiet, pleading.  I felt that tingle where his hand was touching.  I reached out, and it felt like I was watching someone else’s hand.  “I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be.”  He whispered.  “Open it.”

What was I afraid of?  I put my hand on the knob. Though I had never been there, the room looked exactly as I knew it would.

It took a few seconds to register that the door had not opened –  I had never turned the knob.  I could hear voices inside.  It sounded like Gabriel and his father, nearby, but not visible.

I could hear Mr. Knight saying.  “I don’t know, I haven’t figured out
what
.  There has to be something we are missing.”

I heard Gabriel’s voice, “If it isn’t a
what
, then it must be a
who
.”

“
No, no
,” Mr. Knights voice again.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  They would not start randomly, not every time.  I’m missing something.” 

“I can’t take much more of this.  I can’t keep doing this.”  Gabriel’s voice again, sounding distressed.  “I know fate, Father.  I
know
it.”

“You aren’t the first one tormented, Gabriel.”

“
Tormented
.  An apt description.”  I heard a loud sigh.

I released the knob.  “What was
that
?”  I demanded.

Gabriel reached around me then, opening the door and swinging it open.  The room looked –
exactly as I knew it would
.

“I don’t know what you saw.”  He said quietly.

I stepped into the bedroom, looking around, and getting that feeling of vertigo again.  I knew where the bed was, and went straight to it, sitting on the edge.  I had my hands up, like a begging dog, up and away from
everything
.

Gabriel followed close behind and kneeled down in front of me.  “Jessie, do you feel all right?  Can I get you a glass of water?  Give me your hands.”

He put his hands out and I placed mine in them.  “I feel dizzy.”  I said.  “I heard you – I heard you talking to your dad.”

“When?”  He asked, an intense look on his face. 

“When I touched the door knob.”  The feeling of lethargy was coming back, just like at the park, and I felt
so tired
.

“What did you hear?  Did you
see
anything?”  He spoke quietly, rapidly scanning the room, as if he thought someone might be listening, or watching. 

“Just you and your dad, trying to figure something out.  You sounded –
distressed
.  You said you were tormented.”  I wanted to lie down; I didn’t care what it looked like.  I didn’t care if it was inappropriate.  I just needed to lie down, just for a few minutes.  “I want to lie down.”  

“Of course.”  Gabriel rose quickly and went to the head of the bed.  He fluffed one of the fat pillows and angled it low against the headboard.  He then slid an arm around my back, the other under my knees, and lifted me, all in seemingly one movement.

I was swept up, and then gently placed with my head on the pillow, feet on the bed, shoes and all.  My head sunk into the fluffy pillow and mattress.  The sheets felt cool and smelled freshly washed – and they smelled
familiar
.  I wondered if they used the same laundry detergent we used.  My eyes closed.

I was conscious of Gabriel, hovering over me.  I felt his hand touch my forehead and slide down my cheek, leaving a burning trail behind.  His finger traced my lips, my eyebrows, my nose, my chin.  Every place he touched leaving the same sensation.

I became aware of arms around me, holding me close from behind.  A cheek against mine, a voice whispering, “Please don’t forget me, not this time.”

I tried to roll over and he loosened his arms so I could.  “You’re insane.”  I snuggled in close; put my lips against his neck, and his arms tightened.

“But you will, when I’m gone.”

“Then don’t go anywhere.”  I said.  It was that simple, wasn’t it?

“I don’t get to choose”

“Then
I’ll
choose.  I won’t let you go.”  I said.  Why was he being so absurd?

  “I wish it was that simple.”

“It is.  Now shhh.  Stop talking and kiss me.”  I turned my face up, eyes still closed.

I felt his lips touch mine, and his kiss was ardent, faintly desperate.  I kissed back with the same passion, suddenly afraid he
was
going to leave.  I pulled him as close as possible, wrapping a leg around one of his.  He pulled his lips away, “You have to stop,” He whispered.

“Why?”

“You have to wake up.”

“I am awake.”

“Jessie, wake up.”  Someone was shaking me gently.  “Wake up.”

I opened my eyes and Gabriel was inches from my face.  I was lying on the bed, right where he had placed me.  I frowned.

“What were you dreaming?”  He asked.

I blushed, and then a yawn caught me by surprise.  My eyes watered and I started to rub them, but stopped.  “I need a bathroom.”  I said.

“Of course.  Through that door and to the right.”  He pointed across the room.  “What were you dreaming?”

I stretched first, and then swung my legs around, sitting up.  I yawned again.  “I don’t remember.”  I lied.

 “Oh.  You were smiling, so it must have been good.”  He looked at me, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“What?”  I asked.

“Nothing.  Nothing at all.”

The door he had indicated was slightly open, and I was very glad.  I would have felt stupid if I’d had to ask him to open a door for me.  “I’ll be right back.”  I said, standing up carefully, slowly.

As soon as I was sure of my balance, I walked to the door and pushed it open with my elbow.  It swung quietly on the old hinges.  I turned to the right, and saw another slightly open door.

The bathroom was small.  There was a washcloth lying on the sink, so I picked it up and used it to close the door.  I used the cloth to turn on the faucet, and then did what I had to do.  I knew from experience that sound carried in old houses.  I washed my hands and dried them, turning the faucet back off with the cloth and using it to reopen the door.

I checked my face, fixed a few smudges under my eyes, and headed back to the bedroom.  I hadn’t allowed myself to think, trying to forget that dream.  It messed with my mind, made me feel like I was closer to Gabriel than I was, and that couldn’t be good.  He would think I was crazy.

When I entered the door to the bedroom, he was sitting on the bed with his back to me.  His shoulders were down, his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him.  I could hear him whispering.  Was he praying?

He stopped and raised his head, looking out the window in front of him, then put it back down.  I had the urge to go put my arm around him; he seemed to need some comfort.  I didn’t, though, because that was
exactly
the kind of thing that would make me look crazy. 

Even from behind, he was gorgeous.  The way his black hair caressed his neck made me want to run my fingers through it.  The skin of his bare shoulders looked so soft and warm, yet firm and I wanted to rest my hands there.  I saw them tremble all of a sudden, just a little.

“Are
you
okay?”  I asked.

His head jerked up, but he didn’t turn around.  He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  “Who yields to time finds time on his side,” He said quietly, then louder to me, “Yes, I shall be.”  He still didn’t turn around.

I approached slowly, went around the corner of the bed, and sat beside him.  He still didn’t look up.  I peeked at his face and saw he had his eyes closed.  He took both hands and rubbed his face rigorously, then shook his head, as if he was trying to wipe something out of his mind.

“I’ve been preparing dinner while you slept.  I was almost afraid to leave you here alone; afraid you would wake up, become confused, and fall down the stairs.”  He laughed, but it sounded hollow.

Preparing dinner?  How long had I slept?  “There’s obviously something bothering you.  Want to talk about it?”  I asked.  I felt brave, so I put a hand on his shoulder.

A wave of anguish—that’s all it could have been described as—crossed his face and quickly disappeared.  He reached up and patted my hand.  “I wish I could, more than anything in the world.”

“You can.”  I said.  I immediately wanted to know what it was.  He wanted to tell me, I was absolutely certain.  Something, or someone, was stopping him. 
A what or a who
.  I decided to take a chance.  “What, or who, is stopping you?  Have you figured it out yet?”

He turned so fast, grabbing my arms, that he nearly knocked me off the end of the bed.  “What did you just ask me?”  He didn’t look angry, but he looked demanding.  It didn’t scare me, but for a second I couldn’t find my voice.  “Please, why did you ask me that?”

“It’s what I heard.”  I looked at his door.  “You said something to your dad.  A ‘what or a who’ is tormenting you.  Something like that.”

“What were you dreaming?”  He asked.

I felt my face flush, and I turned my head.  I felt his hand touch my chin, and he gently turned my face back.  His eyes were so blue, but slightly bloodshot.  They looked tired, and sad, and solemn, and older.  They were watery, and he blinked several times.

“Please.”  He whispered.

I didn’t want to tell him, it was so embarrassing.  I tried to pick through the memory of it, pick the parts I could share and not die.  “You asked me not to forget you this time.”

A light sprang up in his eyes.  “But did you?”

“Did I what?”  I wasn’t sure what he was asking.

I saw the light fade.  “Did you forget me?”

“It was a dream.  You said something about leaving, and I would forget you, so I said don’t go, and you said you didn’t get to choose, and then I said I’ll choose, I won’t let you go.”  I said it all in a rush; it wasn’t as embarrassing that way.

“And then what?”  He asked.

“Oh god, please don’t make me tell you.”  I was blushing so hard even my ears felt hot.

“I’ll get on my knees and beg if you will tell me.  Time is running out.”  He paused a second. “Your father will be here soon.”  As if to prove he meant what he said, he slid off the bed and got on his knees in front of me.  “I’m
begging
.”

“You’re
insane
.”  As I said the words, something snapped.   “I said that, in my dream.”

“You told me I was insane.”  He acted as if he was agreeing, and was waiting for me to say something else.

“You were talking, about not choosing and all that.”  I said.

“And?”

“And.”  I swallowed hard.  “And I said ‘stop talking and kiss me.” 

“And it was a dream?”  He asked.

I closed my eyes.  “Was it?”

“Tell me.  Tell me if it was a dream.”  He took my hands. 
That electricity
.  My fingers burned.